#it looks eager and earnest
Keep Your Hands Where I Can See Them
Summary: Mafia Bucky has a few rules for you and yet you can't help yourself from breaking each and every one of them. You’re going to learn to listen to him, he swears you will. Now put your hands on the table and count.
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader with mentions of Mafia!Steve x Reader
Word count 2K
Warnings: Violence (not to the reader), Smut, 18t, Dom!Bucky, spanking, fingering, Minors DNI
A/N: Wrote this quickly, beta’d by the talented @sweeterthanthis but all mistakes are my own.
Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories. Reblogs are wonderful! Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed
Technically you’re not allowed in the lower level of the mansion until Steve and Bucky have finished up their various business dealings for the day. Technically you’re not supposed to go into Bucky’s office while he’s working especially since he has a meeting. Technically you should be on the patio getting another massage from the Swedish masseuse Bucky had flown in this morning because you said your shoulder was a little sore.
Technically you shouldn’t be in the large open kitchen, loading one of the gold-trimmed serving trays with expensive liquor while wearing the French maid outfit that Steve bought you last Halloween.
Yet here you are sorting through the tall antique liquor cabinet, gathering all of Bucky’s favorites on to the counter. You know his tastes varied depending on his mood so you decided to go with one of everything off the top shelf. You figure he could choose while waiting for his lunch to finish baking. The rich smell of tomatoes and spices emerging from the oven.
Bucky gets so tied up in his work that he often forgets to eat unless you make sure a meal is brought to him. He always says how grateful he is that you take care of him.
There’s no way he’s going to be mad if you personally deliver his meal to him today.
No. Possible. Way.
Not when you simply want to thank him for being so good to you. And maybe you get a reward for being sweet.
You continue to list all the reasons why you wouldn’t get in trouble as you balance the tray on your hip. Your black heels clicking on the floor with each cautious step, the glasses clinking against each other, the liquor sloshing against the sides of the cups.
So focused on not spilling any of it, you pass by Steve in the hallway without realizing it. The tall blonde stops, placing his phone on his shoulder while he watches you head towards Bucky’s office.
“Ah sweetheart,” he says under his breath, “you never do learn.” Steve licks his bottom lip, craning his head to get a better view. Steve debates if he should get rid of all your regular clothes and make you dress up all the time because if he didn’t have two meetings coming up, he would have grabbed you and fucked you against the wall for having the audacity to be so stunning.
His already stiff cock getting harder when the small black garter peeks out from beneath your frilly skirt when you balance the tray on your hip. “Damn, I love that girl.”
When you disappear into Bucky’s office, Steve resumes his conversation. “No, tell Craig we’re not settling for the docks, we’re taking the market district. If he has a problem with my terms, he can speak to me personally”
Opening the door, you squeak in surprise, your stomach twisting into a nervous knot. You forgot that Bucky was hosting a small gathering in his office. You nearly dropped the tray when six pairs of eyes landed on you, the door closing behind you with a loud click.
The other men glance between you and him, four of them offering polite greetings before looking elsewhere. The mafia world has unspoken, universal rules. Don’t snitch, never disrespect a man’s mother or grandmother, do not bother a man on his daughter’s wedding day. And do not under any circumstances look at or speak to Steve and Bucky’s girl unless you’ve been given permission.
And they never give permission.
You can’t stop yourself from biting your bottom lip when you see Bucky. He’s sitting at the head of the table, his domineering presence making the enormous office seem small. Bucky sets down his pen with a sigh, his blue eyes snapping up to meet yours. He alluring and sexy, especially when he wears the black suit. You don’t even notice the anyone else when he looks at you like that. His startlingly blue eyes raking over you, he raises one long index finger and slowly bends it.
“Come here.” Your panties instantly soaked when he bosses you around, so eager to follow his every command.
You smile demurely at the table before dropping your eyes to the tray. He’s not angry, he’s not angry you repeat to yourself. On the other hand, maybe you want him to be angry.
Stepping around the table, you pass by a newcomer, Jake, no Joe, maybe Jeff, he looks like a Jeff. You give him a quick smile before returning your attention to Bucky.
No one told Jeff about the unspoken rules.
He reaches out and flips up your skirt, the resounding smack that follows makes you lurch forward, the glasses sliding to the edge of the tray.
Bucky leaps out of his seat gracefully, his hand steading your tray, “Doll, I’m-”
“Give me a drink, babycakes,” the haughty blonde interrupts, reaching out to pinch your ass.
Your startled whimper of pain sends a shockwave across the room. The painful sting burning across your cheek fades as you watch Bucky’s face darken; rage, pure and unadulterated rage blooms from the depths of his chest, overtaking all his senses, simmering in the stormy blues of his eyes.
His pupils widening with each slow blink, then he chuckles, everyone but you flinching, the low, deep sound shooting right to your cunt, your clit pulsating uncontrollably.
Chairs scrape against the floors as the other men stand up, the distinct clicking of guns drawn grab your attention. “John is mine.” So that’s his name, not that it matters now. Bucky holds up his hand waving the men down, his gaze never leaving your face. He takes the tray from your hands and sets it in front of John.
“Doll, sit on my desk please, I don’t want you to get any blood on your pretty skin.”
You skip over to his desk, hopping on the edge, placing your weight on your other cheek.
What happens next leaves you dizzy and breathless. Everything unfolds in slow motion, you’re held spellbound and captivated by your man, the way he takes control of the room, ordering everyone to witness what happens when his queen is disrespected.
Bucky removes his black suit jacket, placing it neatly on the back of his chair along with his tie and watch.
He ignores John’s increasingly frantic apologies. Only stopping to growl when John tried to plead with you. You shrug your shoulder, glancing at Bucky and you almost come when he smirks at you. His broad chest flushed, his muscles flexing with each outraged inhale. You can see his patience fraying with every sound coming from John’s mouth.
When Bucky snaps, he snaps. He’s feral yet completely in control, the contrast makes him a beast in bed. He can fuck you into the mattress with such ferocity that you can barely breathe yet whisper how you’re his good girl so sweetly in your ear.
But only you get that gentle side of him. Only you.
Bucky pulls him out of his chair by the back of his neck, letting John get the first couple of hits in before laughing in the other mans’ face, “let me show you how a man does it.”
His first blow to John’s stomach makes you cringe, the man folding in on himself. Bucky is ruthless, the fight over the second he balled his ringed hand into a fist.
You lean back, your panties damp and clinging to you. Your pulse racing, you clench your thighs together needing friction to quell the growing ache.
His deep voice muttering how no one touches you, repeating again how no one disrespects his queen, makes you throb even more. You’re entranced by the display of power and strength.
Bucky landed another swift blow, knocking John’s head to the side. “Now because of you, I have to punish her.”
The words snarled out between three more heavy punches.
Your brows furrow as you process his last statement. “Wait, hold up,” you say incredulously, tilting your head, “punish me, I didn’t do anything.”
Bucky ignores you, continuing his brutal assault. “Thanks to you, I have to spank her.” He pauses to shake his hand out. “I should make you tell Steve why she’s not allowed to cum tonight.”
Oh, oh no.
What is happening, you think. Not allowed to cum.
You hop off the desk and grab Bucky’s chin, “Baby, I didn’t do anything,” you repeat, his blue eyes moving from your exposed cleavage up to your face.
His fists don’t stop while he calmly asks, “where are you supposed to be right now doll?”
Shit. Yeah. Massage with Helga. Your mouth drops open as you splutter, trying to think of a good excuse until you see the tray behind him. “I wanted to thank you for this morning,” you say in earnest.
Bucky stands up, kicking John out of the way. He kisses the tip of your nose, not wanting to touch you with his hands until they’re clean. “I figured, and that’s why you’re only getting spanked.”
“And I can cum?” you say hopefully.
Bucky’s lips drop down to yours, his blue eyes gazing over your face with adoration.
He orders the men to take John to Steve while you splutter more, not understanding when this turned around you. Stupid John. When the door closes behind him, he pulls out a white handkerchief, cleaning his hands off.
“Well, I should probably go check on your lunch, I’ll be right back,” you say, inching your way to the door. Maybe you should give him some space, time to rethink this whole spanking, and not cumming nonsense.
Bucky raises his brow, his smirk daring you to take another step. Oh, he’s angry and frustrated, you can see it in the way he’s holding himself, the muscles in his jaw twitching.
“Or, or I-could, I mean I just-,” you drop your head and trudge over to the table, placing your palms on the smooth dark wood.
Bucky pulls out of his chair, settling down, his long legs spread wide. He cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the skin. “That will never happen again,” he says, “I swear on my life, doll.”
You glance over at him, surprised by the regret in his eyes, “I know Bucky, I’m always safe with you,” the soft reassurance makes him smile.
His smile fading when he brings your face close to his. “That’s what you think,” he warns, the lust in his tone sends a shiver down your back, “now count.”
Steve loves to spank you, his large hand slamming down over your ass until you’re crying out. He’s swift with his punishments, eager to get inside of you afterward. Bucky, on the other hand, he’s meticulous. You never know what he’s going to do. He likes to drag out his punishments until you’re a blubbering mess, begging for his cock.
His first strike creates a sting that ripples up your ass. The second and third smacks follow quickly, your back arching as you cry out, the numbers falling from your lips. “You never fucking listen do you? Bet you’re fucking soaked aren’t you doll?” he taunts.
Between the fourth and fifth slaps, he slips his other hand between your legs, thick fingers find your aching clit, one long middle finger dipping into your warm velvety core. Your cries turn into sobs when he rubs your little bud between his fingers. You lose count when his finger curls inside of you, sensations overwhelming, you put your weight on the table, your knees weakening as the coil tightens.
“I fucking knew it,” he groans. He pushes another finger in you, his other hand slapping you faster, the sounds reverberating around the room. Blow after blow on your ass, his fingers pounding into your wet cunt, your slick coating his hand. “Your tight little pussy’s swallowing my fingers.” He tilts his head, gazing at your face, “you want more, doll?”
You can only squeak out something resembling a please. “I can’t hear you doll,” he teases, his fingers moving faster, in tandem with the smacks raining down on your bruised, sensitive skin. “Speak up,”
You try, shit, you try to ask for permission to cum, but you can’t even form a coherent thought, not with his fingers hitting your spot over and over. He knows exactly how much pressure to apply to make you delirious. Your walls clamp down on his fingers, you’re so close, if you can just--
“Don’t you dare cum,” he warns, when you push back on his fingers.
The mix of pleasure and pain is too much, too incredible. You try to hold back, you really do but when he’s fucking you so good, hitting your spot the way he is, the one you swear he created in your cunt, you shatter. Your arms splay across the table knocking over papers as you give in to your climax, chanting his name. Your knees buckle and over the dull ringing in your ears, you hear him laugh again and you know the punishment is far from over.
“Oh, doll,” he tsks, “Steve and I have been discussing how we’re going to handle you,” he places his fingers in your mouth, “you never listen”.
“Good girl,” he murmurs when you suck them clean, his praise has you preening.
He grabs your face, pulling you in for a kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth while he places you on his lap. “S’good,” He mumbles, tasting the remnants of your slick. He breaks away, taking his phone out of pocket.
He places it beside the tray, opening his gallery. He flips through the pictures of you, stopping when he gets to a photo of the basement.
Is that a-
Bucky reaches over and picks up a glass, “thank you for the bourbon, it really hits the spot.”
Your eyes widening as he casually swipes through the photos. You look closely, swallowing audibly when you see the large bed where the pool table used to be; chains and ropes hanging off the walls, toys lined up on the shelves.
“It’ll be ready by the end of the week and maybe after a few sessions down there, you’ll learn to listen for once.”
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Mafia bucky with size kink, belly bulge, choking with vibration arm, sub space, daddy kink, creampie kink and squirting, breeding kink, maybe exhibitionism with Steve. This could lead to a part 2 as a 3 way with double vaginal penetration, no anal
that smile on her face
bucky barnes x reader
summary: mafia!bucky x reader ft. mafia!boss!steve and it’s basically just p0rn with a little bit of plot i guess.
warnings: smut, (whatevers written in the ask), violence, rumlow, not proofread, idk please tell me if I missed something.
word count: 3.1k
a/n: why was it so hard to write this fic vjhafvu im rusty with writing soz
It was becoming too much for you. The palpable tension between the two brooding men and the looming figures of terrifying men on each side that serves as guards for both sides didn’t bring you any comfort and the fact that your boyfriend is a few feet away from you right now isn’t giving you any reassurance that this situation is under control.
Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend, stands face to face with an unknown man wearing an eerie smile on his face but his aura is producing anything but a positive vibe while your boyfriend stands beside Steve, glaring at the strange man. You thought you remembered someone calling him Rumlow.
You know about your boyfriend’s line of work but you never really got to witness his job with your own eyes. Life with Bucky has always been laughs and giggles, passion and love behind closed doors so you never really thought about the dangers that may come with his job. You thought you could continue to live happily and carefree with him until now.
When you saw Rumlow turning his attention to Bucky’s louring face and smirking at the emotion he’s able to get from your boyfriend made your stomach turn. You saw Rumlow’s hand rise from his side and time seemed to stop for you when you saw a gun pointed in your boyfriend’s direction. You saw your Bucky’s jaw clenching and you couldn’t help the small whimper escaping your lips when Rumlow turns the safety off with a deafening click.
Bucky’s eyes subtly searched your face but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were begging Rumlow to drop his gun and let your boyfriend be but the moment Rumlow turns to look at you, your stomach begins to feel more horrible than it already is. But you would do everything for your Bucky. You had to try.
“P-Please don’t…” You stutter, glancing at the gun pointing towards your Bucky then looking back up at Rumlow.
He mockingly juts his bottom lip out, pouting at you before tilting his head to the side. “No?” He asks.
You could only nod, ignoring Bucky who was trying his best to get your attention, for sure trying to make you stop talking to Rumlow.
“This your girl, Barnes?” Rumlow asks, scanning your form but nobody answers him.
Rumlow chuckles before putting the gun down, giving you a sense of relief before your breath hitches when the gun is suddenly pointed in your direction.
“Should I just shoot you then, little girl?”
Bucky’s form stiffens, as well as Steve’s and his guards, ready for an order to attack when Rumlow speaks up again.
“Are you willing to risk your life for this motherfucker?”
You didn’t know if it was your nerves making you dizzy but everything went by in a flash but in slow motion at the same time. You saw Bucky side-stepping quickly towards you, his metal arm raising as if to shield you both. A bullet makes contact with his metal arm before bouncing off of it and you stare at his arm in awe before looking at him with crazed eyes. He scans you for a quick second before he rushes you both out of the place, and onto a car before caressing your face with both of his hands. The sounds of guns being fired filling your ears.
“You shouldn’t have done that, baby girl.” His words are dark and it would’ve scared you if you didn’t know him. If he wasn’t giggling with you about a silly movie yesterday, you would’ve been frightened of him.
When you don't answer, he tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to focus on him instead of the continuous gunfire.
“Y-You’re arm… How did you know it would save us?” You stared at his face while your hand absentmindedly wrapped over his metal hand, caressing it gently.
His eyes flicker to your hand on his metal ones before looking back at you with an earnest look. “I didn’t. I just know that I had to protect you.” He says, chest heaving as he finally let himself show his emotions. Something that he only does with you.
“Y-you… You could’ve died, Bucky…”
“I will do anything to protect you, doll.” He presses a kiss on your forehead before the driver’s door opens and Steve crawls in, breathing heavily.
“We gotta fucking go,” was the only thing he says before stepping on the gas.
You did your best to ignore the blood splattered on his face and the white shirt under his black suit.
You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he hugs you extra close to him, fearing that you might slip away from him and you bask in the closeness and warmth of his body. Your brain starts to fog up, and the only words running inside it are the words your Bucky said. You snuggle closer to him, humming unknowingly in satisfaction.
‘I will do anything to protect you, doll.’
Bucky Barnes watched you curling closer to him, your cheeks brushing against his arm as your eyes remained close, face finally relaxing as you go deeper into slumber. He smiled at your form, pecking the top of your head before pulling you closer to his body.
If someone told him that his heart would be palpitating because of a pretty little thing like you, he would’ve shot them in the head for poking jokes at him but now that you’re beside him…
“Is she okay?” Steve’s voice cuts Bucky’s thoughts off as Steve looks at him through the rearview mirror, quickly turning back to look at him then towards his girl with worried eyes.
“She’s resting. Calm for now.” Bucky’s jaw clenches at the thought of you producing tears for the likes of Rumlow. His heart skips a beat at the memory of that gun being pointed at you. His grip on the door handle becomes tighter while he tries his best to keep his other hand calm, the one that he’s holding you with.
“She’ll be fine. We won’t let anything happen to her. I know you won’t. I sure as hell won’t…” Steve gives Bucky a reassuring smile, mumbling the last words under his breath.
The car ride was silent throughout the ride, thoughts eating up on Bucky’s mind as he thinks of Steve’s words as well as what to do with you. How to make things up for you because he’s taking the blame for you being in a very dangerous position.
“We’re here,” Steve states, stopping the car and getting out before quickly going over to Bucky’s side, opening the door for Bucky and a groggy you. You’re still in Bucky’s arms, already squirming into consciousness while Bucky tries to coo you back to sleep.
“Need any help?”
“I got it,” Bucky answers Steve before carrying you inside the manor, Steve quietly following behind.
Once inside, Bucky feels you squirming more and he lets you go, gently putting you down on your feet. He looks down at your face that’s looking back up at him with a blank expression. He takes note of Steve’s form leaning on the doorway.
“Bucky…” He hears you mumble.
“What is it, princess?” Bucky notes the way your eyes flutters at the nickname and he fights a smile that wants to force its way onto his face.
“You almost d-died because of me,” Your sob breaks his heart and he’s suddenly on you. He’s eager to make you wipe the tears away. Eager to bring back the smile that always makes him swoon because this isn’t how he wants to see you cry.
“Don’t cry, princess. I’ll do anything for you even if that means getting hurt.” He continues to wipe at your tears but it was no use. You’re a broken dam right now.
“Daddy’s here, princess. Daddy’s right here.” He whispers, not caring if Steve hears him but he takes note of the way Steve’s form stiffens by the doorway. It wasn’t hard to miss because of his broad shoulders.
“You trust Daddy, right, Princess?” He pulls back, caressing your face and that’s when he sees it.
Your eyes are fogged, face wet with tears but the flow has stopped. You’re just looking at him with those foggy eyes filled with something so much intensity.
“Yes, daddy. I trust you.” He hears you whisper and he knows you’re deep in your space right now.
Bucky wipes your face with a cloth that’s conveniently in his pocket before walking back, away from you. You whimper at the loss of his touch but one word from him made you stop.
Bucky feels himself grow proud at your obedience. He flicks a look at Steve before looking back at you.
“Take your clothes off for Daddy, princess.”
“Steve, you fucking stay there.” He doesn’t even glance at Steve but he hears his steps stopping. You didn’t even notice his words towards Steve because you were eagerly obeying his command, stripping out of your clothes with haste.
“Come here, princess,” Bucky motions you to come over and you do. He instantly wraps his metal hand around your throat, not clenching it at all. He just rests his hand on your throat, careful not to frighten you.
“You trust me, princess?” He asks one more time.
“Yes, yes I do, daddy.” You breathe out, nodding against his hold which he tightens. Bucky’s eyes flicker at how your thighs clenched together and hear the tiny moan slipping out of your mouth.
“You like this, princess? You like my hand around your pretty little throat?” Bucky tightens his hold a little more, eyes gleaming at how his hand is covering your whole neck now.
“Your neck is so tiny, I can easily crush it, princess. You’re not afraid of me?” Instead of being afraid, you whine, suddenly thrusting your naked hips towards him and he chuckles at you before letting you go.
Bucky glances at Steve who was fixing his pants, no doubt tightening uncomfortably at the scene in front of him.
Bucky stares at you, eyes begging for him to touch you but he ignores it before walking over to the long sofa and sitting down. He pats his lap as he calls for you which you eagerly obeyed, almost skipping your way towards his lap. You were about to straddle him when he stops you.
He turns your body with so much ease before pulling you down, earning an “oof” from you when your back hits his hard chest. He guides your legs so they’re resting outside of his legs. He easily spreads your legs with his and he dwells at the shiver your body makes when you’re completely exposed.
“Sit, Steve.” Bucky motions to the long sofa opposite to where the both of you are sitting and he feels you stiffening against him so he whispers soothing words in your ears. “I got you, princess.”
Steve walks towards the sofa before awkwardly sitting. Bucky could see how much his best friend was trying to control himself but, in the end, his best friend loses his inner battle for he looks at you and then to your cunt, before looking back at you.
“Don’t worry about Steve, princess. We can trust him. He did kill that awful man for you…” He chuckles at the way your body shivers, your stiffness has long gone now.
“Yes. Now let’s give Steve a little show, yeah? Show him just how fucking precious my princess is…” Bucky’s metal finger goes to your breasts, teasing each of them with equal attention. He pulls little whimpers from you here and there and he can see Steve squirming uncomfortably from across the both of you and he chuckles.
“Don’t be shy, Steve. You can touch yourself.” Bucky’s free hand goes to your core, rubbing his fingers on your clit, making your moans grow louder.
“But you won’t be able to touch my girl. You can just watch and you can be thankful that I’m letting you.” Bucky takes pride in how he’s able to make his best friend look so powerless when he’s the boss. Right now, Bucky is the boss though.
“D-daddy!” You’re suddenly shaking against Bucky as you reach your first peak, your juice covering Bucky’s fingers while his other hand continues to play with your hard nipples.
Bucky hears a groan from Steve, smirking how his friend has his hand down his pants pathetically.
Bucky continues to play with your body, pulling a few more orgasms from you until you’re crying from all the pleasure he’s giving you.
Now that’s how he wants to see you cry. Only in pleasure and nothing else. Only the best for his girl.
“Daddy, please!” You scream at Bucky, your small hands gripping his flesh hand that was on your cunt.
“What is it, princess? Tell daddy what you want.”
“W-want more, daddy,” you whisper, almost shyly, and Bucky coos at your embarrassed face.
“You need to be more specific than that, princess. Don’t be shy. You’re so fucking beautiful that you got Steve and me so fucking hard, baby.” He turns your head to the side before pressing a hungry kiss on your lips, tongue lapping every corner of your mouth before pulling away, admiring the string of saliva that connects your lips.
“Tell daddy what you want, princess. Be more specific this time.” He whispers against your ear before nipping at it and earning another whimper from you.
“Want your cock in me, daddy,” you finally say, begging with your hips grinding against his hard cock that’s under you.
He hums in approval before easily lifting you up and positioning his tip in your entrance. He looks at Steve who was looking hungrily at your slit that’s ready to take his swollen cock.
A gaudy moan escapes from your mouth as Bucky pulls your body down his cock, your head instantly falling back to his shoulder at the feeling of his cock inside of you.
“Fuck!” Bucky hisses at the feeling of your warm and very tight walls hugging his thick cock.
“God, baby… You’re so fucking tight!” Bucky’s eyes shut at the feeling of your walls clenching him and he even whimpers when you start to grind against his lap, asking for more.
He gives it to you.
He stares at Steve’s face as he guides your body on top of his, bouncing you on his lap while thrusting his hips into you to reach deeper inside of you.
Bucky sees Steve’s hungry eyes staring at a certain spot as he bites his bottom lip. Bucky follows his gaze and he too, grows even more hungry, if that’s even possible, at the sight of your lower abdomen bulging out every time his cock thrusts deep inside your tight cunt.
“Princess…” Bucky groans, stopping you from bouncing, earning a whine from you which turns into loud cries of pleasure when he starts impelling you with his cock again and again. His flesh hand goes to press on your lower abdomen to feel himself inside of you.
The three of you groan at the scene and Bucky looks back at Steve, smirking and moaning at the same time. Seeing Steve hungrily looking at you but not being able to touch you gives him a rush. Especially when Steve is choking his own cock while he watches the both of you. Oh, Bucky loves showing people that you’re his girl.
“D-daddy, I’m gonna—”
“Fucking cum for me, princess.”
And you do. You cum with a loud cry, followed by Bucky’s loud cry as he felt your walls suffocating his cock which only gave him more motivation to pistol into you, riding your orgasm. His vibranium fingers find your clit, ignoring your tiny hands that wrapped around it.
“Too much, daddy!”
“Give me one more, baby! I wanna cum inside your pretty cunt,” he whispers into your ear before pressing his lips on your neck, sucking your skin with wet kisses. That seems to make you more compliant. You wanted him to cum inside you and Bucky chuckled at how your walls clenched around him at the thought.
“Oh, you’d like that, won’t you? Want daddy to give you his cummies? Want daddy to breed you? Get you all nice and round…”
“Y-yes daddy!” You let out a squeal when his fingers started buzzing around your clit.
“Yes! Cum inside of her, Buck…” Steve’s wanton voice catches both of your attention and Bucky feels your walls tighten around him when he sees you watching Steve beat his cock with his own hand, his girth swollen and ready to cum. And it’s all because of you. His girl.
Bucky doubles his efforts, metal hand vibrating against your clit, flesh hand pressing on the bulge that his cock continues to make on your lower abdomen.
With a few more thrust, Bucky feels his balls tightening and you must’ve felt his thick cock twitching because your walls tightened again and this time, it’s enough to make him burst his seeds into you so, with a loud grunt, Bucky pulls you down on him as his cock twitches inside you, spurting his seeds into your cunt while the head of his cock remains touching your cervix.
With his metal fingers still vibrating against your clit, you follow him with cumming as the mixture of the feeling of him filling you up with his cum and the intense vibration of his fingers on your sensitive bud.
Across from the both of you, Steve watches how Bucky is filling you up with his cum, and the moment Bucky’s excess cum starts slipping out from the sides of your slit, he loses it. With a whimper, Steve’s cum shoots out and his hands get covered with his thick white cum while a few lands on the floor. Steve licks his lips when he sees Bucky pulling out of you and using his metal fingers to push the fallen cum back inside of you.
Steve, still shaking from his orgasm, watches as Bucky picks you up after covering you up with his suit jacket and walking toward the stairs.
He stops to look at him though.
“Thanks for killing the bastard for her, punk.” And with a smirk, he leaves with you in his arms.
Bucky places you on the bed before cleaning you up. His hands are gentle as he wipes his cum off your thighs and your swollen cunt before getting in beside you and wrapping you up in a blanket.
“Thank you, daddy.” You slur before curling up beside him. He chuckles before pulling you closer to him.
“You don’t have to worry about anything, princess. I’ll do anything for you, okay? Seems like Steve will too,” Bucky laughs but doesn’t earn a reply from you. He looks down at your face, seeing you already fast asleep with a smile on your face.
Oh, how he loves that smile.
And he’ll do anything to keep that smile on his girl’s face.
a/n: i just wish I did this request justice :3
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Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss
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firsts - zhongli
Warning -> NOTSFW (18+) (sex -> penetration, fingering, touching, groping, detailed*)
synopsis: first time with Zhongli
character X FM reader | Anthology
They say when the creator of the world wanted to bring life to the darkness, they breathed it into existence.
So what happens to a life already created receives that breath? Well, it experiences rebirth.
Being with a man of his stature, of his worth, was beyond anything you could possibly imagine
Of all the people in the world, he choose you and that alone was enough to set your body on fire
Zhongli took your face in his hands, his golden eyes looking at you with so much care and earnest. Slowly, he closed the distance between your lips and you felt every single emotion there. In the quiet space surrounding you, you drifted to another place.
His kisses were gentle and calculated. Even with just his lips he had left you breathless and weak. When he pulled away and stared down at your face, your eyes still closed and your mouth partially opened, he knew you felt the same for him as he did you. He descended onto your lips once more, this time with more passion.
He cared for you deeply, and he wanted to make sure you understood that
Every movement he made was to show you he cherished you, every caress against your skin was made to show you how he felt, every kiss was meant to express his desire to belong to you
He just hoped it all came across clearly
You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. You desperately wanted him to know just how badly you wanted him to make you his. You had wanted this for so long… you hoped he would get the message.
When he breaks away from you once more you steady yourself to look at him, knowing full well the dangers of looking into those golden eyes, knowing just how likely they were to pull you in and never let you go.
You can’t look at his face to long, you know his eyes are on you, because you feel their fire. You feel him pulling and tugging at the wrap around your chest and you watch his fingers pull at the string. The soft fabric slips off of you and onto the floor. He pulls you closer to him, one hand flush against your back and the other in your hair. You stand on your tip-toes and kiss him again.
He cannot get enough of how tempting you are
He finds this contrast to your normal demeanor to be an enjoyable show, and he wants to know more, if you let him
He has you sitting on his lap, your legs on either side of his own and spread to his liking. He’s been emboldened by your eagerness, and wants to let you experience the pleasure you give him every day. His arms engulf you and hold you to him as he kisses your neck. He thinks this view is stunning. He gets to watch the movement of your chest as you shakily breath in and out, and how his hand looks encapsulating your breast. He gets to feel your face press against the crook of his neck and the way you moan as he touches you.
When he slips his fingers into you and you arch your back in response, he grabs our chin and pulls you to his face. He wants to see how you react to him, and if he can, he wants to capture your lips with his own.
The more you moan against his lips, or try to catch your breath, the faster he will get. Your reactions begin to push him towards the power and control he once held as an archon.
As you reach your limit he will keep his fingers inside of you, feeling every pulse, ever constriction of your walls around him. He desires to know how good you will feel wrapped around the growing part of him, the part pushing against your ass. He kisses down the line of your neck and onto the soft bend of your shoulder as you come back down from your high. Each kiss sending a shockwave through you.
“You are ravishing.” He’ll say against your skin, and with ease he picks you up and places you on the bed.
He is transfixed by all of your reactions. From the simple touch of his fingers to the gentle press of his lips to your skin, to your neck, your jaw - they were all flawless
He longed to know what sounds you would make once he was inside of you, once he was taking you and making you his
You were encapsulated by him. His body positioned over yours and his long hair falling toward you. It was like the whole world around you disappeared and the only thing left in its place was him. You run your fingers over his chest, feeling how smooth his skin is, you trail them down his arms and over the hills of his muscles, you run up his neck and against his face. When they reach him he places soft kisses on your palm.
When he looks down at you there is something inside of you which quakes. His eyes make it so hard to breath, his stare makes you feel exposed to him in ways you never imagined, you beg for him to look at you, and also wish he wouldn’t. You cover your face in an attempt to catch your breath.
He takes your wrist and pulls your arm away, kissing the soft flesh of your forearm. He wants to see you, all of you, every bit of you. He wants to engrave your expressions, your sounds, your being into his mind for all of eternity.
“Do not hide yourself from me.”
You look at him and as he descends to your lips. His kiss is sweet, encouraging and filled with love. As your mind begins to turn foggy, you feel him near your entrance and your hips push you core closer to him.
He has waited
He has imagined
He has wondered just what would happen when you submit to him. He is a patient man, and will take things at a reasonable pace, but there was always a hunger in him to claim you. And as you lay beneath him, completely exposed, dangerously eager, he doesn’t know how to be patient anymore
“Are you ready?”
You can only nod your head, the need in you making it so hard to communicate.
“I need to hear you say it.” It’s not fair, he’s directly against your ear and his words are so hot.
“Yes …” you push the word out, it’s quiet and breathless.
“I’d like to show you how much I cherish you.” And with that, he kissed your cheek before positioning himself to enter you. First, he wanted to make sure you were properly ready to receive him, so he slipped his fingers into you once more. He wanted to feel just how wet you had become and give you an example of how different he would feel compared to his fingers.
He admired how you moaned and the way your back bent, the view of your chest as it moved up and down with your quick breaths. When he felt you were ready, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his tip.
You moan at the sensation of him pushing into you. The way he stretches you and fills you completely, nothing is amiss, nothing left forgotten. Once he is completely inside of you he waits, letting you adjust to him. Your hands are entangled in your hair and you can’t look at him.
Slowly, he pulls out and you whine from the emptiness. He doesn’t leave you waiting long before sliding back in and the rush of pleasure he creates in you is unbelievable. You know he is starting at you and it only enhances the sensation of each thrust. Your moans and breath become one, it’s insane how good he feels.
Seeing you in this state drives him to a place he wasn’t sure he’d ever go. He cannot wait any longer, and he doesn’t
He pins your arms above your head as he bottoms out over and over again. He finds it’s hard to take just how tight you are around him, how your legs feel as they are clinging to him, how you look pinned under him, how your breasts call to him. The only thing that’s missing, is your eyes looking at him.
And as you begin to come undone, the moans getting louder, your eyes becoming harder to open, he makes sure he won’t miss it. He lets go of one of your wrists and wraps his long fingers around your chin so he can turn you to him.
“Let me see.”
There isn’t anything left in you anymore, and like a wave crashing into the shoreline, you break apart.
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May I request headcanons with Nadia, Lucio, Julian, and Asra from the Arcana game with what they’d be like in bed ;)?
Don't you just love it when the first request is smutty as it can get? ;)
Here you have Muriel and Portia.
Warnings: smutty content up ahead!
When it comes to Nadia, it’s all about giving what you receive. She values that sex doesn't become a one-sided affair (she's had enough of that in the past) and is willing to give every session her all as long as you reciprocate in earnest.
Having said that, she's naturally more of a giver. She relishes in your pleasure, non-ceasing hands wandering over every inch of your exposed body, only for her lips to follow. She may not look like it, but she’s really touch starved and will keep you as close to her body as physically possible.
She has access to all kinds of fun little extras, from silken toys (and an elegant harness littered with sparkling rubies that makes your mouth water and your mind delirious upon sight) to a vast array of oils that she’s eager to experiment with on both herself and you.
Being the Countess comes with a certain amount of responsibilities, a rather large amount. It’s not unusual to spend several long days and nights without sight of Nadia, and this means that, more often than not, the sexual tension between the two of you is so palpable one could simply slash through it with a knife. This results in tiny slips outside of the bedroom, when her brief moments of respite allow: say, long, sensual kisses in the hallways when it’s only the two of you on sight, some grinding in the many secret spaces of the palace, all unsatisfying encounters that do naught but torture both of you until one night it all comes crashing down to a session of stress-relieving, steamy fucking.
It’s good that you said “in bed” because Nadia would rather not entertain the possibility of getting caught; she has a reputation to uphold! So far no member of the palace staff is wise to the occasional teasing between the Countess and her lover. The closest they might have been to being found out was one time you couldn’t take any more of her playful teasing and, waiting until most of the guests had retired to their rooms for the night, fingered her to orgasm under the dinner table, taking delight in her struggle to maintain her perfectly put-together façade.
This ensued a punishment, of course. While Nadia is usually gentle and loving in bed, sometimes she’s just in the mood for using the Countess card. She wants to be worshipped, she wants to be in complete and utter control of your pleasure, she wants you to pretend that you’re nothing but a subject to fulfill her desires. Once you’re both sweatily exhausted for the night, she drops the hard act and smothers you in as much affection and care as you deserve for being her sweet little lover.
Listen, he starts off on the wrong foot. Despite the improvements he has made with you (because here we’re talking about a serious relationship), despite his bettered ways, at first he has trouble communicating with you about how to approach your sex life in a healthy way. He usually tries to dive in with some heavy kissing, but when you stop him to ask him to talk about boundaries, he can’t help but feel a little bit offended. Does he understand the importance of communication? Yes. Does the notion make his brain irrationally angry, not at you, but at himself for being such a horndog? Also yes.
At first, this tension results in bouts of angry making out. The kisses are all teeth and tongue, biting and harsh sucking. Hands explore, especially his clawed prosthetic yanking at your robes with an impatience that has earned him a hurt glare and a slap to the face on more than one occasion. Side note, but this has helped him discover that he gets off to being slapped (and don’t get me started on spanking) in a more consensual context.
It takes some time, and some nasty arguments, but he eventually swallows whatever unhealthy mentality is hurting your relationship and starts listening before acting on his instincts. He becomes almost unsure, afraid of upsetting you because he has been close to losing you before because of his damn selfishness. And, honestly, after trying out taking things slow, he finds that it’s not half as bad as his mind had convinced him it would be. He rather enjoys the closeness, the intimacy, more than just senseless fucking. Lucio starts reveling in your affection, and quickly becomes addicted to it, which means he turns into a damned brat.
Yes, he complains, he snarks, he brings the whole “is that the best you can do?” deal, so please make him swallow it. Sometimes literally. Gag him and spank him and fuck him until he can’t even kneel straight. While he enjoys being called all kinds of not-so-pretty names, throwing some praise into the mess is bound to make him shudder deliciously because of course Lucio of all people has a praise kink.
Wants to assert that he’s a dom but he’s totally a whiny sub and no bravado is going to make you think otherwise. The man cannot stand being teased but, despite denying it fervently, orgasm denial is definitely within his (extensive) list of kinks. Especially if there’s a fancy cockring involved, he’ll lose his damn mind.
He might not be as self-centered as he used to be, but being the center of your attention while he brings himself close to the edge over and over again under your command isn’t something he’s ready to relent just yet, or maybe ever.
He might act like a rowdy, flirty tilling tool, but when it comes down to the real deal, especially in the beginning of the relationship, Julian is nervous. Sweating-buckets, potential-performance-issues kind of nervous. The guy needs a breather in between hickeys, and gods, is he embarrassed about feeling that his soul might just leave his body every time you suckle an open-mouthed kiss into his neck. Sometimes he might go as far as to claim that you don’t deserve a wretch like him, so you better straddle him before he flees.
Sometimes a man just needs someone to ride the everliving lights out of him to fling the theatrics out the window, and that’s the kind of treatment you’ve prescribed for him. (Contrary to popular belief, you making dumb doctor jokes during sexy times does not, in fact, make Julian hornier but, much to his dismay and terribly-hidden amusement, you blurt them out a lot).
It might take some time getting used to intimacy with you (and your goofy damn jokes do help a big deal), but when he does he’s as insatiable as he lets on. There isn’t one morning where you don’t wake up with a raging erection grinding against your behind, and if there’s something the sleep-deprived plague doctor thoroughly enjoys is a nice session of lazy lovemaking.
It’s a damn shame that he heals so easily, because if he could he would be announcing the fucking he got the night prior, “hear ye, hear ye” style. He wishes he could proudly sport a flock of love bites on his neck, show off the scratch marks nearly hidden among his unruly chest hair or relish in the sight of the angry red lines from the silky ropes that had bound him while he had relentlessly begged for release.
Eye contact is a beautiful thing for him, especially because every kind of contact he can hold with you is precious. At first he’s self-conscious of his red eye, but with time he has learned to hold your gaze, to drink in the pleasure in your expression as much as you drink his in. He could be smothered between your thighs, and his eager eyes would remain on yours, surveilling your tells, memorizing every pleasured grimace, only stopping to beg you not to turn your gaze from him. He needs to see the unbridled passion in your eyes when you come undone on his tongue.
Julian is perfectly capable of coming untouched. It’s a different kind of pleasure, to have his weeping cock out in the cold with no physical stimulation, but still receiving pleasure from your kisses, your caresses, your words, both filthy and amorous. That is not to say he doesn’t try to grind against the mattress in a bout of desperation, but that quickly ceases when you level him with a stern look. Whining softly, he diligently ceases the motion of his hips and both waits and dreads for the sweet torture to be over.
Nopal is your little sanctuary, and there’s no way there’s still a surface you two haven’t fucked onto. When Asra releases his cares just to focus on relaxing with you, their libido can very easily skyrocket, and you fondly remember and look forward to those days of doing absolutely nothing but grind and kiss and make love between the sheets, with soup breaks and brief naps in between, only to go at it again when one of the two is awake enough to initiate.
On days when the business in the shop runs slower and it’s generally boring outside of lazily chatting and drinking warm brews, sneaking upstairs for some fun isn’t a rare occurrence at all. It’s always exciting to run back downstairs to assist a customer, looking positively disheveled and a little breathless while in a shared giggling fit, suspicious stares be damned!
You don’t know if it’s their affinity for the water element or them being a sap, but rainy days always always get Asra in the mood. It’s a special kind of magic when the pressure around you is different, and all you can hear is the pitter-patter of rain outside, your shared moans, the rustling of fabric, the skin-on-skin contact…
You can’t convince me that Asra hasn’t gotten freaky while being high. In fact, if you were into it, they’d like to indulge in that special kind of pleasure as often as healthily possible. They own a certain category of herbs and incenses for the occasion, which they have truthfully kept quiet about for well into your relationship (partly because they keep fearing that the experience could prove to be too much for you).
Listen, I know they confessed to loathing hearing you call them “Master” but… but when it comes to a more intimate setting, they don’t seem to mind as much. In fact, Asra might actually have a thing for your breathless little voice begging them, begging your Master, to fuck you until you go hoarse and can’t feel anything other than them, their touch, their voice, their cock. Master is more than willing to comply.
Sometimes they cry after sex. When the pleasure fades off comfortably, and you affectionately wrap your arms around their heaving chest, the whole weight of the situation - of you being right there, of it not being some kind of cruel dream - crashes down on them. The first time you were startled, worried, but they assured you between shuddering sobs that it was okay, that they’re just so helplessly, so madly in love that half of their heart isn’t nearly enough to hold it all in. Then it turns into two crying idiots in love pressing into each other and murmuring besottedly until you doze off.
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Nanami takes you back to his place after your date (and makes love to you)
Note: Nanami x f!reader, not thoroughly proofread
Warnings: 18+, oral (receiving), unprotected sex, thick dickkk, creampie, Nanami calls u baby in this one oh and a good girl | Minors DNI !!
From this soft smut prompt:
31. Say that you want me.
32. Ill make you feel good.
33. Ill be the best you've ever had.
The valet brings up Nanami's car as the two of you wait on the curbside of the restaurant. "What did you think of the food, yn-san?"
"It was amazing! Some of the most delicious bites I've ever had." You recall the miniature servings of intricate looking dishes you've ever seen. It truly was delicious but even after the whole course, your stomach felt half empty.
The car arrives and the two of you get inside. "Thank you for bringing me here Nanami. It was an incredible experience." Just as you were expressing your gratitude, your stomach rumbles in the car's silence. Oh my god are you kidding?
He brings a fist up to his mouth, turns away and grabs at his seat belt. His shoulders does little shrugs and you realize he's secretly laughing at you.
You feel your cheeks and ears heat up. He clears his throat, "I'm still hungry too. We should get something more filling."
"I don't know much restaurants that are open this late," you mused.
"I could cook you something if you'd like," he offers. Intrigued, your nodding in agreement right away, "Yes, I'd like!!" not realizing what that entails-- you'd be going back to his place.
As expected, his place is tidy and organized. The decoration is minimal while large bookshelves mostly fill up the space. He politely gives you a tour of the living room and kitchen. And finally, his room. He has multiple framed movie posters on the wall, some plants that dot the room, and even more books. Your eyes linger to the dark-grey linen of his bed. You meet his eyes and he gives you a small smile. Devious, if you were to describe it.
His large hand find your waist while the other rests gently on your cheek. He leans in to bring his face millimeters away from yours.
You lick your lips in anticipation. Hesitantly closing your eyes, you wait. But he doesn't kiss you.
You lean in kissing nothing. He’s pulled back.
His dark eyes are looking down on you. “Say you want me.” The way he breathes those words lets you know that he won’t touch you unless you do as he’s said. You wonder what else he will do or won’t do at your words.
Much too eager for your own good your response comes in a hurry, “I want you, Nanami.” You would say anything he wanted you to say, hell you’d do anything he told you to, if he’d just kiss you already.
He steps back, hands never leaving your waist, guiding the both of you to his bed. He sits and you straddle his lap.
You still want your kiss. You don't wait this time, you press your lips on his. He kisses you back immediately taking the lead.
You clutch at his collar when you feel his tongue slip past your lips and glide into your mouth.
Your hands roam over his chest, pressing on firm muscles under the fabric. You feel the rise and fall of his breath. It's just as erratic and restless as yours.
You drag your hands down to rest on the buckle of his belt tugging lightly. The edge of your palm just grazing at the tent of his pants. He sighs into your mouth.
You pull away to look him in the eyes, "Go on," his voice is a rumble. Your hands work the buckle as his mouth wanders to the spot just below your ear kissing and breathing hot air on your skin.
You palm him through his pants clenching your cunt at how stiff and girthy he feels. He hums in your ear as you grab at his cock out of his pants and underwear. He felt hot.. and heavy. You moan thinking about how good he'll stretch you out.
Fuck. Your fingers don't even fully wrap around him. Even so, you begin to stroke him in earnest. His hand flies up from your waist to the nape of your neck as he devours your lips muffling himself with your mouth.
You thumb at his leaking tip, and his hold on your neck tightens.
He tucks his hands under your thighs to flip you onto your back. His mouth reattaching to your neck. You weave your fingers through the locks of his moussed hair.
Your dress had already ridden up collecting at your hips from being spread open by his frame and still, he brings a hand up to your inner thigh spreading you out even more. He grinds his hips down the only thing separating you from his cock was the lace panties you've worn for the night.
You shiver as he nips your neck, "Let me make you feel good, hmm? I'll make you feel good." At this point your putty in his hands. You hum and nod.
He shifts down your body. He looks up at you, kissing both inner thighs. He looks good like this, face in between your thighs. He thumbs over your clothed clit, eyes never leaving yours as he sticks his tongue out to drag the wet muscle down your panties over your slit.
Then his entire mouth closes in on you. "mmm...shh-shit" you can't help but rut your hips up, the piece of fabric proving to be an annoyance.
He laughs patronizingly at your desperation, but he can't deny you any longer. After all he did say he'll make you feel good and he meant it.
He pushes the lace aside and groans at the sight of your bare cunt. His fingers trace your folds gently spreading your wetness all over you. He's fascinated by the way you clench at nothing.
He licks his lips before diving in, flattened tongue gathering up the slick from your hole to your clit. "Taste so good baby" he coos.
Then he spreads your lips apart and prods his tongue at your hole.
at his hair, toes curling in pleasure.
He eats you as if he's been ravenous for ages. Sucking at your clit, he slips his middle finger in. He doesn't give your clit a break and laps at it mercilessly. "Cum for me baby," he sits up to bite your thighs.
He brings his other hand to rub rapidly on your clit sending your hips rutting and pushing you over the edge.
Your cunt clamps down and he shoves two more fingers in you. "Yes, yes, yes.. cum, baby.. mmm, yeah just like that."
"Good girl..." he sighs, keeping all three of his fingers plugged in your spasming cunt while you struggle to catch your breath.
He pulls his digits out and bring them in his mouth licking them clean.
His exposed cock is a dripping mess, staining his pants and yet he helps you undress first.
You help him in return, pushing his pants down while he unbuttons his shirt. "Lie down for me," you do as your told, lying on your back, spreading your legs as he situates himself between your legs.
You rise to your forearms and watch him grip the base of his cock and give it a few slow pumps. He eyes your naked body, pupils blown out and mouth slightly open.
he mutters almost to himself, "I'll be the best you've ever had." There’s no doubt about it. It’s a promise, a curse too. You’re about to have him, and no one will be able to satiate you like he does. He will be the only thing you think about even if you have someone else, you will crave him and only him.
The way his tip presses into your dripping cunt got your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
The stretch was delicious, he was so damn girthy. He slowly pushes in and he feels so fucking deep. You open your eyes to see he's only got his cock buried halfway.
"Kento...." You groan.
"I know baby, I know."
He leans his forehead against yours once he bottoms out.
Pulling out just until the tip before pushing back in, reveling in how your walls feel around him.
He starts like that at a slow pace driving you insane.
Eventually he picks it up and your mind is just gone, all it could think about was his hard cock going in and out of you.
You let out incoherent noises of praise from how good he's making you feel.
He grabs one of your legs hooking them over his shoulder, and leaning forward to hit THAT spot at just the right angle.
"Cum on my cock", he brings a thumb to your clit and rubs circles on it.
For the second time, he's making you come all too fast. You were so sensitive to him.
He leans forward caging you in his forearms, kissing you deeply as you cream all over him. He slows down riding out your high.
Not shortly after, he begins to thrust into you again. Breathy groans becoming more shallow, his hips rutting faster and faster. Harder and deeper. It was messy, and it felt hot. Your skin felt as if it was burning. He's so close.
You wrap your legs around his waist.
"Cum inside Kento," he growls in response.
He lets out a throaty groan at a particularly harsh thrust and you feel the spurts of his cum in you.
The feeling of his hot liquid in your cunt got your legs shaking. You couldn't tell if you were coming again or not. Either way, he keeps his dick inside you plugging you full of his cum.
He rests his entire weight on you while you both catch your breaths. Your eyes are glazed over, a sort of high setting in.
You feel the beat of his heart on top of you, and you close your eyes.
"Ah— I didn't cook you food."
"It's fine, I'm not hungry anymore," you laugh. (in fact, your stuffed💀)
"You'll have to stay for breakfast then. How does french toast sound?"
You were delicious.
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In which (Y/n) just absolutely loves to pet Ruggie. Seeing this as a chance to get something in return, he charges her food for petting him.
Food and pets? That's hyena heaven for Ruggie — so just keep on spoiling him, (Y/n)!
Request by @aupoe.
An excited voice rang out through the glass walls and roof of the botanical gardens, accompanied by eager and quick-paced footsteps. Ruggie jumped up at his voice being called, his tail wagging back and forth in joy upon recognising whom the voice belonged to.
Leona didn't look nearly as happy when your sing-songy voice reached his ears, pulling him out of his slumber. Ruggie ceased in his endeavour to make Leona get up and make him attend his class since the hyena himself was too excited upon catching a whiff of food: something sweet and delectable!
"Oh?" Leona called out, briefly perking up when Ruggie stopped pulling on his leg. "The herbivore is searching for you?"
"Yes! And I smell food!" Ruggie muttered quietly while barely able to keep still. His hands were twitching, looking forward on getting his claws on the food you had brought him.
Leona sat upright, much to the surprise of Ruggie, and looked him deep in the eyes, curious about your friendship. "Since when does she pester you?" the lion asked, his ears flickering in exasperation when you just continued calling out for the hyena, never leaving your throat any rest.
"Ever since she found out how fluffy my ears are!" Ruggie exclaimed and put his hands behind his head, a proud grin appearing on his lips. He liked to think that striking such an amazing deal with you made him a mastermind; you never liked to tell him otherwise, anyway. Looking awfully smug, Ruggie let out a sheepish giggle. "I have to survive, though... so I told her she could pet me if she gives me food!"
Letting out an amused scoff, Leona went back to his nap. "Hm, smart as always..." he muttered under his breath while he did his best cover his sensitive ears with his arms, wishing Ruggie would just go meet you so that you would stop screaming like a lunatic.
Ruggie could barely hold back the excited giggles bubbling in his throat as he drawled, "I have to go now, Leona~" The hyena's boss let out an acknowledging hum before Ruggie trudged off to wherever you were. Clasping his hands together, he let out a delighted sigh. "Oh, I'm so looking forward to getting spoiled! All for my hard work today."
Ruggie rounded the corner, and finally revealed himself to you, previously hidden behind the tall greenery of the botanical garden. Your eyes lit up once his trademark laughter filled your ears, and you immediately stormed over to him. "Ruggie! There you are." A bright smile on your face, you grabbed his hand and eagerly led him to a nearby bench. "I've been searching all of the botanical gardens for you!"
Ruggie let himself be tugged away by you, the mischievous grin on his lips growing when his eyes fell on the brown paperbag in your hand. "Well, here I am!" he exclaimed, eyes closed casually once you pulled him down onto the bench, seating him right next to you.
"I see that—" you mused, shooting him a little wink that made his heart beat slightly quicker. Letting out a little giggle, your eyes fell onto your paperbag and you handed it over to him.
Ruggie looked curious about the mysterious content of your bag, too. "What did you bring me for lunch?" he asked hurriedly, yet lazily putting his chin onto your shoulder.
You let out a little giggle at how tired he seemed despite having appeared so lively just mere minutes ago; your presence just had a strangely calming effect on him, not that he would ever admit that to you.
"Donuts, of course!" you chirped, to which he eagerly snatched the bag from your hands. Eyes sparkling in amusement, you watched as he fiddled with the top part, opening the bag in such a hurry that his panic brought him struggles. "Jack told me they're your favourites. And only the best for my favourite hyena!"
Ruggie took a deep breath from the bag that smelled like pure sugar and oil before letting out a delighted sigh, his toes curling in pleasure. "Ah, you're too kind to me, (Y/n)..." he muttered with a big smile on his lips, one that was so genuine and earnest compared to his usual scheming grin. "I swear, I could get used to this..."
You watched him with intent eyes as he stuffed his hand down the bag and pulled one of the treats out of the container. His eyes seemed to sparkle while he eyed the donut with big eyes, its sprinkles and glaze giving him life just by looking at the pastry. "Here you go!" you announced, giggling and running your hand through his messy hair. "Three donuts for Ruggie!"
"Hell yes!" Ruggie immediately dug in, not caring for smudges of sticky glaze getting smeared all over his face. His eyes were closed in utter satisfaction while he let the sweetness of the glaze and taste of the dough overtake his tastebuds. He further sank into the bench, letting out a few sobs at how much he was caught in ecstasy. "Ah, they're super delicious..."
"Hm! I'm glad you like them!" You eyed him with amused eyes before scooting closer to him and letting your hand wander to his twitching ears, keen on getting your part of the deal. Letting your fingertips run over his large ears, you watched with humoured eyes as his ears flattened in utter delight at your touch. Laughing, you cooed, "Oh Ruggie, your ears are so soft..."
Leaning right into your touch, he greedily grabbed the next donut and stuffed it into his mouth. "I'm in hyena heaven..." he muttered between a series of blissful exhales. "Ah, you shouldn't spoil me this much, (Y/n)... you know what they say about not feeding stray cats..."
You shook your head, which made him grin in satisfaction. "Only the best for my adorable Ruggie!" you huffed, going on to scratch him behind his ears. The hyena immediately let out a little gasp when your fingertips hit his favourite spot, the one that always made him turn into pudding. The sweet compliments you whispered into his ear didn't help his predicament. "My favourite hyena. So hard-working and diligent."
"Hm~ I'm your favourite hyena..." he repeated, his words slurred as he devoured the third and last donut. "I like that."
Time passed on, and Ruggie enjoyed every single second of it. So, when you removed your hand from his hair with a heavy heart, Ruggie's eyes immediately shot open in alarm. "Ah, I think my time has ran out—" you said, a little frown on your face as you grabbed a napkin from your pocket and used it to wipe the glaze and crumbs off his mouth and cheeks. "Half an hour passes so quickly... I'm afraid my time for petting you has ended now—"
Ruggie immediately gasped and shook his head vigorously. "No! No!" he cried out as he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you back onto the bench, a frown on his face. "Don't stop what you're doing!" He looked very much like a child — a spoiled one at that; yet, you didn't have the heart to deny him.
"Huh?" You furrowed your eyebrows in curiosity, a little bit surprised since this hadn't happened before. Then, your eyes fell on the empty paper bag laying scrunched up next to Ruggie. "But I don't have any food anymore for payment—"
"Your petting is enough of payment, alright?" Ruggie hissed, his voice a little bit embarrassed with how much he hated himself for being so weak to your touches. Turning away from you to hide the blush on his cheeks, he let out a little scoff, intentionally showing his fluffy ears off to you in an attempt to entice you to continue. "So just... go back to petting me — right behind my ears, alright?"
Admitting defeat, you lowered yourself onto the bench again and resumed petting your spoiled hyena. "Whatever you say, Ruggie~"
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By the Numbers
My second (short) fic! Who am I?? I suppose this is a “real life” fluff fic (look at me pretending to know what I’m talking about), starring another favorite: Chris Evans. I was intending for this to be a one-shot but the structure lends itself to a lot of minis so I’m going with it.
Chris Evans x Reader (Y/N)
Summary: Chris has just come back home to Concord between movie shoots to enjoy the east coast autumn season and have some time to himself, until he wanders into a local coffee shop.
Meet-cute, Romantic love, autumn vibes, fluff fluff fluff, cozy
The First Time (Chris)
“Dodger! Stay close buddy!” Chris shouts to his loyal pup. Dodger zooms around the grass but happily trots up to walk in stride with Chris. Chris sucks in the cold air through his nostrils deeply, so deeply it would look cartoonish if anyone had seem him do it, and savors every scent of Concord in fall.
“Look at that sunset buddy. You don’t get that in LA,” he says to Dodger. Dodger seems just as pleased with the autumn air, enthusiastically crunching leaves under paw. Chris and Dodger walk companionably for several minutes until the sun sets in earnest and a real chill takes to the air. Chris, in his favorite cream-colored cable knit sweater, regrets not bringing the jacket hanging on the hook by his door. With at least a 20 minute walk home, he considers picking up his pace to a jog when he spots it.
Beanies & Leaves
A new coffee and tea shop on the corner of Main Street and Walden emitted a soft warm glow. A cup of chamomile tea called his name and he broke into a light jog to cross the street.
He stopped short of opening the door as he peered in the window. The sign said open and the lights were on but there were no customers inside. There was only a woman behind the counter who, by all accounts, was having the time of her life as she cleaned out the espresso machine for the night. He could hear the soft thump of bass from the music she was blaring inside and was that... yep, it was. WAP by Cardi B. And he was the lucky man treated to a whole dance performance, which was honestly pretty decent for someone who was mid-closing tasks at a coffee shop. He watched her gather up a stray napkin and take a shot to the garbage can and miss. She rolled her eyes at her own mistake and scooped it up to shoot. And miss. Again. She tossed her head back and laughed at her own incoordination. He took a moment to delight in watching someone thoroughly enjoy their own company before finally opening the door and to step inside.
She had just stepped back into the kitchen as WAP ended and Defying Gravity from Wicked soon began. An interesting choice of playlist if he’d ever heard one. Almost as if on cue, he heard the singing. It wasn’t.... good? But it wasn’t bad. But it was certainly passionate and earnest and it made him chuckle. She stepped out from the kitchen, hands full and towering with what looked like 25 clean coffee mugs but eyes shut tight mid-high note.
“Is never gonna briiinnnnngggg mmmeee doooooooowwwwwnnn!”
Well now he was in a pickle. She clearly didn’t hear the gentle ring of the bell on the door and he stood the chance of scaring the daylights out of her if he shouted over the music. Now, if he was honest with himself, there was a part of Chris that thoroughly enjoyed the thrill of scaring someone. But he usually reserved that for family and friends, not strangers who seemed to be auditioning for Elphaba. So instead, he waited for the song to wrap before speaking.
“What do I owe you for the show?” he joked.
And with that, a piercing scream emerged from her lips and approximately 25 coffee cups shattered on the ground.
...The First Time (You) ...
Jesus fucking Christ! Your heart is hammering in your chest and your coffee cups are in shatters at your feet. Oh shit, my coffee cups!
You had started closing tasks 15 minutes before closing, thinking you were certainly done for the night. It had been quiet for hours and you were eager to get home and watch the next episode of Outlander. Sure, the music was loud but was it really that loud? And, oh god, how much had this man seen? Not the dancing, right? Oh my god you had been singing too.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry! Jesus, let me help you.” you hear him say.
You squeeze your eyes shut and clutch your hand to your chest for a moment to slow your racing heart. Your hands are trembling from the rush of adrenaline (You obviously thought you were about to be murdered. You always think you’re about to be murdered). You let out a slow deep breath.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. Entirely my fault,” you stammer.
You look up to meet his eyes and HOLY SHIT IT’S CHRIS EVANS. Like, THE Chris Evans. Captain America. Ransom Drysdale (your personal fave). The guy from a million hot gifs. Standing in your coffee shop and scaring the shit out of you. You knew he had a home in the area, everyone knew he had a home in the area, but why would this man step foot in your tiny shop? Surely he had, like, assistants who brought him coffee? Just be normal Y/N, you think. He must hate people recognizing him. Don’t make this weirder than it needs to be. You had already danced and screamed for the man.
He’s already headed over to your side of the counter to grab the broom and dust pan. You squat to the ground to pick up the larger pieces, hands still shaking as the last of the adrenaline pumps through you. You curse your dumb hands- stop shaking you dummies!- for betraying your desire to appear normal in front of CHRISTOPHER *BLANK (you’re gonna have to google his middle name)* EVANS, for god’s sake.
“Shit, I feel terrible. I’m so sorry. Believe it or not, I was actually trying not to scare you. Please let me get it,” he says as his eyes see your hands. He gently scoops the pieces of ceramic from your hands and tosses them in the trash before sweeping up the rest of the mess into a big pile. Like a completely normal person, you try to get a sniff of him because it feels important to know what Chris Evans smells like. The answer is, currently, aftershave and crunchy leaves. Over the course of two minutes you work together to sweep up the remaining shards of white ceramic and dump them into the waiting trash can.
At that, you stand and sweep off the front of your apron and say “Welcome to Beanies and Leaves, what can I get for you?” in a mock customer service voice, as though this man had not scared the shit out of you and then helped you sweep up 25 broken coffee mugs.
Chris tosses his head back and laughs, arms crossed over his chest. A gesture that you might call classically Chris if you had known him in that kind of way.
“Well actually, I’d love a chamomile tea, if you don’t want to kick me out. In a paper to-go cup will do,” he says through a laugh. “And it goes without saying that I’m paying to replace those mugs.”
“No, please don’t bother. They’re a dime a dozen at the restaurant depot. It’s really no bother,” you say as you finish prepping his chamomile tea and placing it on the counter. A kiss will do instead, you think to yourself, like a total perv.
“Oh come on. Please, let me cover it for you,” he pleads.
“No really, it’s more trouble than it’s worth. I’ve got spares in the back anyway,” you say as you wave your hand as if waving off the idea. You can see by his face that he doesn’t like it but he’s resigned to taking your word for it. You tell him the total and process his card, handing him the receipt to sign (sweet, an autograph!). After two more apologies and a packet of honey for his tea, he meets his dog (Dodger? Had you read that somewhere?) outside and he’s on his way.
Well shit. That was an interesting 10 minutes. You can’t wait to get home and call Maggie, who will insist you are absolutely lying about the encounter and then ask for every detail 10 times over. You smile to yourself as you do some final cleanup around the shop and gather his receipt to put in the register, taking a second glance at his signature.
Goddamnit. Scrawled on the receipt is a tip in the amount of $200 with a note saying, “Mugs for Elphaba.”
( to be continued )
PART 2 POSTED HERE!
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A Tainted Rescue
Here it is! Please please let me know what you think!
Rating: Explicit | Dubcon/noncon, first time, generally evil things from generally evil people
Word Count: ~3100
“Little one,” Mistress Dimitrescu beckoned to the maiden who was arranging the breakfast tray. “My brother will be joining us for supper tonight.” Her lips curled in disgust at the mere mention of her ‘sibling.’ “You will be responsible for waiting on everyone this evening. You are to obey his every request unless it contradicts with my own. He is our most esteemed guest.” The words rolled off her tongue laden with sarcasm.
The Lord Heisenberg!
While he and the Mistress had a… strained relationship to say the least, Lord Heisenberg was invited to the castle on occasion to discuss business and put up a good front for Mother Miranda. She wanted the four lords to be cordial with each other, seeing as she considered each of them her own children, so everyone was treated with the utmost respect.
Lady Beneviento and Miss Angie were always welcome, frequently invited to spend time with Mistress Dimitrescu’s daughters or have supper or walk on the castle grounds during the warm season. The maiden was frightened of them at first, but the Mistress Donna and her doll were friendly and playful when in good spirits. Even when she wasn’t, there was a sort of beauty to her melancholy. She was kind to the servant girls, and she adored the castle gardens. Mistress Dimitrescu obviously held her in the highest regard, especially because it meant her daughters had another friend among the nobles.
The Lord Moreau was ghastly to look at, but sweet and earnest in a pitiful kind of way. Mistress Dimitrescu must have thought so as well because even he was treated with more kindness and respect than Lord Heisenberg. Lady Dimitrescu allowed no one to speak ill of Lord Moreau -- though it wasn’t as if she spoke very highly of him either. He was much too sickly and shy to come to the castle often anyways, so it was very rare that the maiden even saw him.
And so it was that the Lord Heisenberg was the second most common guest at the castle behind Lady Beneviento and her doll.
The Mistress tolerated him, but their evenings spent together would quickly turn to scathing comments and bellowed arguments if provoked. He was loud and smelly and he undermined The Mistress at every turn -- even in her own castle. Still, his visits were rather exciting. He would perform parlor tricks for the Mistress’s eager daughters with his magnetic powers and tell crude stories. It was rather fun until the maiden was left scrubbing his dusty bootprints off of the floors and tables.
He arrived in a metal carriage drawn by a mechanical horse, clearly one of his own inventions. The maiden watched the beast stamp and snort just as though it were flesh and blood. The Mistress’s daughters were similarly impressed, whispering and cooing to each other as they all stood to welcome The Lord to the castle. Mistress Dimitrescu stepped forward, extending her hand and poorly hiding her disgust as Lord Heisenberg placed a whiskery kiss to her gloved knuckles.
“Dear Brother.” The words were flat and clipped. “It’s always nice to see you.”
“Of course, Al. How could I possibly turn down an invitation.” Lord Heisenberg was just as sincere as he sauntered into the castle, waving to the daughters on the way.
The maiden stepped forward from her place in the shadows. She bowed low. “May I take your coat, My Lord?” Lord Heisenberg looked startled at her sudden appearance. How did something so small and delicate fit in among these enormous monsters? She was absolutely precious, and he wanted her all to himself.
“No thanks, girlie.” He patted her on the head. It was a baffling gesture to the maiden.
The five of them convened in the grand sitting room. The daughters were quick to engage Lord Heisenberg in conversation about his mechanical horse and the goings on in the village as well as his factory. The mistress looked on in disdain.
When the maiden came to offer them a selection of The Mistress’s finest wine, she was surprised to see Lord Heisenberg wrinkle his nose and shake his head. He plucked a flask from the inside of his coat, waving it with a mischievous smile. “I’ve brought my own spirits for the evening. But you’re a dear for offering.” He winked. “Let me know if you want a sip.”
The maiden bowed to hide her flush and turned to fill her mistress’s glass. She managed to keep her hands from shaking, even though she couldn’t shake of the directness of Lord Heisenberg’s teasing.
“Good girl,” Lady Dimitrescu cooed, trailing her fingers over the maiden’s cheek. It was an unusual show of praise, and the maiden nearly dropped the bottle she was holding out of shock.
The maiden dutifully fetched and filled and served until supper was ready. Lord Heisenberg was surprisingly friendly and in good spirits, boisterous and laughing. He teased the poor maiden relentlessly. Joking with her and tucking her hair back and brushing his hand against hers. All of the attention made her cheeks hot and her heart beat wildly out of control. She felt as though each advance was somehow a betrayal against her mistress, but she couldn’t brush them off without angering The Lord.
Not that The Mistress was much better, cooing over her and pushing her this way and that with a sweet smile and a firm hand. The only ones who seemed to want to leave her alone for once were The Mistress’s daughters, too wrapped up in the excitement of having a guest to the castle.
They all filed into the dining room for supper, and the maiden was given a reprieve from the constant, overwhelming attention as she stood by to refill glasses and cart dishes away.
“Isn’t this a nice family dinner,” Lord Heisenberg remarked. He had a feast of seared fish and vegetables, a sharp contrast to the rare red meat on the ladies’ plates.
The mistress’s daughters ate quickly and excused themselves far too early -- likely attempting to sneak away to the stables to inspect Lord Heisenberg’s horse.
The maiden was sent off in search of another bottle of wine, and the Lord and the Lady were left alone.
“She’s slated for the bottle?” Heisenberg asked once the maiden was out of sight. He busied himself inspecting the silver cutlery, but his interest was obvious.
“Yes,” Mistress Dimitrescu said. “What a shame. I’ve grown quite fond of her. Such a good little pet. But she’s much too sweet and pure to let go to waste.”
Heisenberg wrinkled his nose again. “I know that we’re both despicable, but you’re a whole ‘nother monster, sis.”
Lady Dimitrescu narrowed her eyes. She knew what game Heisenberg was playing. Like a petulant child, he couldn’t stand when his sibling had a shiny new toy. “Keep your hands off her. She’s mine, and I’ll do with her what I wish.”
“Of course,” Lord Heisenberg raised his hands placatingly.
When the maiden returned with the wine, Lady Dimitrescu made a show of pulling the poor girl in close to whisper thanks in her ear, running her hand over her skirts. The maiden looked as if she would faint.
Heisenberg rolled his eyes. He knew how to get what he wanted in the end, and the next time the maiden was sent to the storerooms to fetch something, he excused himself with a yawn and a stretch and an offhanded comment about the powder room before blatantly following out the same door the she had just left through.
It was easy to find her in the storerooms, expertly gathering everything she needed. She glanced up at the sound of his heavy footsteps.
“Oh! Lord Heisenberg! If there’s anything you need you can just let me know and I’ll bring it out. There’s no need for-”
He effortlessly pinned the girl the the stone wall, one hand flinging out behind him as he used his powers to close and lock the storeroom door. The lord was nothing in size when compared to Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters, but he towered over the poor maiden. She was powerless to stop him.
“If you don’t want to die, you had better leave with me tonight,” he hissed. “You’re time is running out, and I think you’re far too precious to be drained and bottled up for the next supper.”
The maiden whimpered and struggled against his hold. “I don’t understand… What are you saying?”
Lord Heisenberg growled. “All your little friends who have been disappearing? The other maids in the castle who aren’t around to help anymore? You just served them up in a glass at dinner. And you’re going to be the next batch if you don’t stop being so sweet. She’s planning to kill you, and I want to keep that from happening.”
The words finally seemed to sink in. The maiden knew that things at the castle were more sinister than they appeared. She was one of the only ones left now. All the others had disappeared for one reason or another. And now the wine was flowing freely.
“I don’t want to die,” the maiden pleaded. “Please. I want to leave, but I don’t know how to escape. She’ll surely find me.”
Her pleas were met with a low chuckle. “Don’t worry about escaping. I’ve always been a fan of grand gestures. You’ll be walking out the front door with me tonight.”
“How?” the maiden asked. “She’d never let you take me.”
“Not when you’re this fucking ripe she wouldn’t.” The lord’s voice was a low growl. “I think we’d better do something about that.”
She screamed as he ripped the fabric of her skirts to shreds. He clamped a hand over her mouth and hoisted her up against the wall so she was at his level, pinned in place by his hips against hers. “Keep it down,” he snarled.
Next to go was the front of her dress, ripped straight down the bodice so he could palm at her breasts. “My Lord!” the maiden gasped. “Please, why are you doing this?”
“I’ve got to make you useless to her.” He breathed against the maiden’s skin, trailing his teeth over her collarbone and shoulder. “You’re worth nothing if your blood is tainted. Impure. Well, according to her,” he pulled back with a wide grin, “I’m as tainted and impure as it gets.”
He kissed his way down her chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and biting lightly just to hear the maiden gasp. She was even more responsive when he sucked and licked the sensitive flesh.
“I can’t wait to keep you.” He ripped her drawers off and ran his hands over her thighs. “Gonna show you just how good it can feel. Can’t believe she wouldn’t even touch you.” He slipped a rough finger between the maiden’s legs, gently coaxing her to arousal. She squirmed and tried to push his hand away.
“Don’t worry,” he soothed her. “I promise this will get you out. It’s going to feel good.”
She tried to relax into his touch, to slow her breathing and stop fighting against him. He pressed a kiss to her stomach, softer this time. “There you go,” he praised. “Let yourself be spoiled.”
He squeezed her breasts and petted her hair and kissed a never ending trail across her neck and shoulders and chest and stomach. Kneaded her thighs and whispered an endless stream of encouragement to her.
“You’re doing so good… I’m going to get you out of here… She can’t have you anymore… You’re mine…”
Her thighs were now slick, as were Lord Heisenberg’s fingers, and he dragged them along her slit in slow, determined motions.
“My Lord…” the maiden panted. “What’s happening? It feels...”
He chuckled and rubbed her clit, delighted at the way she moaned and arched her back. Her hands found his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life as he ruthlessly but expertly brought her apart with just one hand. Unable to hold back, he pressed two fingers inside of her, hushing her as she cried out from the stretch. She shook and sobbed against him as he curled and scissored his fingers inside of her, seeking out the exact ways to send her into oblivious pleasure.
“Ah! Stop! I can’t!” She whimpered as he changed the angle of his wrist. He could tell she was close, all she needed was a little bit more.
The maiden ruined herself in the castle storeroom, pinned to the wall by Lord Heisenberg with his fingers buried in her up to the knuckle. She clung to his coat as he worked her through her orgasm, fingering her through the aftershocks and running a hand over her back to calm her.
But Lord Heisenberg was never one to do anything by halves. If he was going to save this maiden from Lady Dimitrescu, he was going to ruin her.
So he grabbed her by both thighs and hoisted her up so he could bury his face between her legs, lapping up the wetness that spilled over his lips and licking and sucking at her dripping, oversensitive pussy.
The maiden was helpless to stop him as he held her in place and sucked bruises all along the insides of her thighs, marking her as his.
She was shaking and clamping her legs shut around his ears, tears streaming down her face from the too intense pleasure. She had never even been touched before, and now she was coming over The Lord’s face again and again.
It was only when his jaw began to ache that he set the maiden down. He once again backed her against the wall with his full weight, rutting his own hips against her where he was achingly hard in his pants.
The maiden could barely stand on her quivering legs. She nearly slid to the floor when Lord Heisenberg stepped back to undo his belt and pull open his pants. His cock was ruddy and leaking, heavy in his hands as he stroked himself for some relief.
“Oh, I can’t wait to feel you around me. Gonna fill you up. She’ll never be able to do anything with you after that.” He stalked forward.
“I can’t,” the maiden stared at the Lord’s massive cock with terror in her eyes. “There’s no way.”
“You have to,” he crooned. “Don’t worry. You’ll be just fine.”
He lifted the maiden by the waist. Her toes didn’t even touch the ground as he tilted her hips to line up with his cock. The head dragged over her slit, dripping against where she was already wet and oversensitive.
“So soft,” Heisenberg moaned, hips rutting forward of their own volition. The head of his cock pressed inside her and the maiden whined. “It’s okay,” he promised. “You’re going to be so good at taking my cock. You’re perfect.”
Unable to hold himself back any longer, he pulled the maiden towards him onto his cock. She shook and cried in his hold, but he moved her easily as she stretched around him. Sinking in inch by inch until he was buried fully inside her, splitting her open on his cock so full and deep.
The maiden could barely keep her thoughts together, struggling to breath as Lord Heisenberg filled her. The stretch burned, and the head of his cock was so deep she could feel it all the way to her navel. She wasn’t sure how she had managed to take all of him.
And as he began to move, began to use her body and fuck her rougher and rougher on each stroke, she wondered how she would be able to give up the sensation.
He was right. She had been denied a whole world of pleasure just for the sake of her mistress. She would have died not knowing how it felt to be brought to rapture again and again.
She came around The Lord’s cock, clenching down around him as he fucked into her.
“That’s a good girl. It’s supposed to feel good.” He grit his teeth and increased his pace. “I’m going to fill you up. Ruin you for every other cock and especially for that bitch.”
“Please,” she begged, the words escaping her before she could stop herself. “My Lord, please I need you. Save me. Take me away from here. I’m yours.”
“Damn right you are,” he growled. “So tight and perfect. Alcina’s precious pet coming on my cock. Just a little bit more.”
He adjusted the angle of his hips, somehow managing to hit even deeper. Lord Heisenberg was watching his cock as it split her pussy in two, sinking into her to the hilt on each thrust. He moved one hand to rub over her clit, determined to make her finish when he did.
He pulled her hips all the way to his as he came, pumping his claim into her just as she came one final time around him, milking his cock and spilling over her own thighs. He fucked into her with a few more deep strokes, just to make sure it took, before pulling out and wiping himself on her ruined dress.
He shoved his cock into his pants and refastened his belt, waving the door open with his hand.
“Well, I’m sure I’ve long overstayed my welcome this evening. And the lovely hostess will be looking for us both.” He grabbed the maiden by the hand and dragged her -- on shaky legs and wobbly knees -- through the halls of the castle to the main entrance.
Lady Dimitrescu descended upon them before they could get to the door.
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” she bellowed, sweeping down the stairs with her daughters at her heels. “You insolent, wretched pig.”
Lord Heisenberg shielded the maiden behind him as he turned to The Mistress. “Heya, Al. It’s been a great night. Dinner was wonderful. But I think I’ll be taking my dessert to go.” He pulled the maiden out in front of him. Tear streaked cheeks, hair mussed. Dress ruined and spattered with stains. Bruises all along the inside of her thighs where the Lord’s cum was still leaking out of her. She could barely stand as she clutched Heisenberg’s arm.
Lady Dimitrescu realised what had happened to her prized maiden and swept forward, claws at the ready. “You,” she snarled.
But The Lord was already backing towards the door, taking the maiden with him. “Mother Miranda would be very upset if her two favorite children got in a fight.” He said. “In fact, she’s expecting my call as soon as I get back. She was very pleased that you invited me to dine with you.”
Lady Dimitrescu seethed, unable to do anything to upset Mother Miranda who had given her everything she could ever ask for.
“I’ll kill you,” she hissed. “Get out of my sight.”
“I can’t wait for the day,” Lord Heisenberg saluted and marched out the front doors of the castle with the maiden in his arms. Just as he had said.
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Somewhere Only We Know
Pairing: god!Dream / DreamXD x gn!reader
Summary: [Reincarnation!AU & Dream SMP!AU] Being a god can be especially lonely—Dream knows that better than anyone. Yet somehow, you always manage to find your way back to him in every life you live. If only it didn’t hurt so much to love you.
Warnings: tw// mention of death
Word Count: 5.6k
A/N: requested by the lovely 🤡 anon, who asked for a piece based on keane’s somewhere only we know! i got rather carried away when writing this, and it’s certainly quite sad, but i hope you all enjoy it! <3
Dream blinks lazily up at the fluffy clouds drifting across the cerulean sky, his emerald eyes tracing over their soft edges. He hums to himself as one of them drifts in front of the sun, the warm light suddenly leaving his face. Frowning, he sits up a little straighter, raising his arm above his head. He snaps his fingers once, and in an instant, the clouds vanish. Warmth floods his cheeks as the sun’s brilliant rays crash over him once more. He smiles, but it’s melancholic, a forlorn look passing over his face.
Just how long has he been alone like this?
Sighing, he rises to his feet, kicking at the soft dirt beneath the soles of his boots. His viridian cloak is light atop his shoulders, his wings neatly folded underneath the soft fabric. Above his head, his halos glow with a dazzling golden hue, sending beams of amber light flashing across the nearby tree trunks. Rolling his neck, he snaps his fingers again, and his wings and halos vanish in a flash. Just like that, the weight on his back dissipates, and his lips twitch. There—that’s much lighter.
His gaze flickers over to the waterfall lying just a yard away, rushing ripples of water streaming down the short cliff face and into the pool lying at its base. He crouches down next to the small pond, brushing his hand over the soft soil beneath his feet. Sparks shoot up his arm and into his fingertips, the earth suddenly bursting to life underneath his touch.
All of a sudden, a blossom sprouts from the ground, soft and pink as it unfurls its petals and soaks up the warm sunshine. Dream grins as row after row of flowers shoot up from the ground, circling around the pond and lining the trees around the clearing until suddenly, the whole space is surrounded by breathtaking blossoms. He stands back with a satisfied hum, glancing around himself with an almost nostalgic gleam in his gaze.
It’s been ages since he last returned to this little alcove in his favourite forest. He could tell no one else had stepped foot here except for him, too. After all, there was only one other person who knew about this place—the only other person in the world he knew would be able to find it in the first place.
Had it been decades or centuries since he last visited? He’s not sure anymore, but really, he’s not sure if he cares, either. There’s a reason why he doesn’t come back here very often—one that he hesitates to even think about.
It’s far too painful of a memory to relive.
Dream freezes, his eyes going wide at the sound of a new voice—a familiar voice. Slowly, he turns, his lips parting in awe as he sees a figure stepping into the clearing, a mix of caution and curiosity flitting across your cheeks.
He knows that face—knows you.
His heart aches at the thought.
“Hi,” he manages after a long moment, swallowing ever so slightly.
You flash him a sheepish smile, lowering your gaze to the ground almost bashfully as you brush a stray leaf off your shoulder. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding, or anything. I was just passing by when I saw the flowers, and thought they looked really pretty, and...”
You trail off, your voice growing smaller and smaller until it fades off into silence. Dream stares at you, unmoving as his heart races a mile a minute in his chest, battering against his rib cage as your timid gaze flickers to his.
“I, um,” you squeak out, feeling the intensity of his eyes on yours. “I can go if you wa—”
“No,” Dream suddenly blurts, the word flying out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He can already feel the heat flooding his chest at the way you startle in front of him, and he sucks in a breath.
“Wait,” he says, calmer this time. “Please, I—you’re not intruding at all. You can stay.” He takes a shaky step forward, offering you a crooked yet earnest smile. “I’d love it if you stayed.”
In an instant, your face lights up, and his breath hitches in his throat at the sight. “O-Oh, thank you! It’s nice to meet you. My name’s [Y/N].”
In that moment, he could have sworn his heart stopped and would never beat, again. “What’s yours?” you ask, your eyes shining like freshly cut gemstones.
His eyes scan your face for a moment, taking in the soft panes of your cheeks and the delicate curve of your lips as your smile leaves tiny cuts in his lungs.
“Dream,” he breathes at last. “Call me Dream.”
Suddenly, your eyes curve into tiny crescent moons as you grin at him, and he feels the loneliness flowing through his veins subside the tiniest bit.
Even after all this time, he still can’t bring himself to forget your smile.
Dream hums to himself as he tosses a pebble into the pond from his spot on the fallen tree log. The stream laps at the stone once before swallowing it whole, letting it sink to the murky bottom without so much as a splash. A rustle comes from behind him, and he immediately whirls, his lips curling up into an eager smile.
“[Y/N],” he chirps, bright and keen, “welcome back.”
Your glowing face greets him in return, and he nearly combusts on the spot. He still remembers the way you had promised him you would return to see him again a week ago, when you had first stumbled upon his clearing. His head still spins at the thought, and it almost makes him forget the longing ache that sinks into his bones when his gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long.
You wave at him as you jump over a protruding tree root, crinkles forming at the corners of your eyes. “Good morning, Dream! What are you doing here so early? The market only just opened.”
He shuffles over on the log to give you room, raising an eyebrow at you. “I could ask the same of you.”
Crouching over, you settle down onto the space next to him, not at all noticing the way he stiffens when your thigh brushes against his. “I woke up early to watch the sunrise,” you say with a half-drowsy smile.
There is a beat of silence, then Dream tilts his head at you. “The sunrise?”
You bob your head, turning to look at him. “Yeah,” you murmur wistfully, raising your arm to wave your hand up at the sky above. “I love watching all the pretty colours fill the horizon. It only lasts a few minutes, but it’s so magnificent, and I always try to watch them if I can.”
His eyes flash as he takes in your gentle expression. Then, he opens his mouth, thoughtful and slow. “Sunrises, hm? What other things do you like?”
You pause for a moment. “Other things I like?” When he nods, you hum, averting your gaze from his until you find yourself staring over at the bubbling waterfall.
“I like... I like flowers,” you begin, “but you already knew that.” He chuckles at the hint of a smile that dusts your face before you continue. “I like exploring the market every Saturday, too. They always have something new to find.”
Suddenly, your eyes flicker to life, glittering with excitement. “Oh, I also like stargazing! It’s like watching the universe paint a picture with little crystals every night, and something about looking up at the sky makes me feel so small, and I... I...” You gesture vaguely, a frustrated noise escaping your throat. “I don’t know. I just like it.”
Dream cannot help the way his heart melts in his chest at the sound you make, a certain fondness seeping into his soul. You were always so endearing—always, always, always.
“What about you, Dream?” you say suddenly, looking at him curiously. “What things do you like?”
Dream blinks at you—once, twice. Suddenly, his mind is flooded with image after image, memory after memory.
He thinks of the millennia he has lived through, the cities he has watched rise and fall. He thinks of the countless distances he has wandered, travelling far and wide with a heavy loneliness hanging in his barren heart. He thinks of soft kisses pressed to calloused fingertips and fluttering eyelids.
Then, he looks at you, with your enraptured eyes and your glorious grin.
“You,” he says, sincerity gracing his every word. “I like spending time with you.”
He watches as you stammer in reply, your eyes going wide as you gape at him in a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. He laughs at you, and his heart swells in his chest.
He’s missed you—more than you would ever know.
“Say, Dream, have you ever seen the ocean?”
The sun glares harshly into your eyes from where you lie on the earth, staring up at the cobalt sky, but Dream hardly notices—his eyes are too focused on you. “I have,” he murmurs as his gaze traces over the bridge of your nose in wonder. He’s seen more of the world than he would like to admit. After all, he was the one who created it in the first place. But to you, he’s just a simple traveler with a penchant for waterfalls.
Before he can even register it, you’ve bolted upright, bending over him with an excited shout. “Really?! What’s it like?”
He jolts at the sudden movement, all too keenly aware of how close your face is to his before his shuffles into a sitting position, resting his chin on his hand. “Well,” he begins, “it’s really big. So big that you can’t see the shore on the other side no matter how hard you try. It’s blue as far as the eye can see, and the breeze kind of tastes salty if you open your mouth.”
He catches a flash of your awed expression as he waves his arm in front of him to illustrate the vast size of the ocean. “The water,” he continues, envisioning the waves as they crash onto the sand, “is nice and cold, and if you swim deep enough, you might find fish and coral. It’s relaxing to watch the tide come up into the beach. Sometimes, shells wash up onto the shore, too. You can keep those as little souvenirs.”
For a moment, you are silent as you simply stare at him, something swirling deep within your gaze. “Wow,” you say at last, sounding completely breathless. “That sounds beautiful.” You stretch your legs out in front of you, your fingers curling into the grass spread beneath your palms. “My best friend says there’s mermaids in the ocean.” You scrunch your nose. “I don’t know if I believe him, though.”
Something dark ripples through Dream, and the tiniest of frowns passes over his face. “Your best friend?” he parrots.
You nod. “Yeah—his name’s Karl. He’s really nice and likes to goof off a lot. He’s also a really good storyteller!” You look at him then, fondly and with such a kind look it almost knocks Dream right over. “I think you might like his stories.”
His lips quirk up into a coy smile, and he leans ever so slightly forward. “Would I, now?” he croons, a teasing lilt tinting his tone. “What kind of stories does he like to tell?”
You clasp your hands together, excitement brimming in your face. “Oh, wonderful ones! There’s the one about the sleepy fox, the one about the pig who could not be killed, and the one about how we all face reincarnation after death, but my favourite,” you murmur, “is about the creation of the world.”
Dream goes still at that, his smile faltering for a split second. “How does that one go?” he asks softly.
You scoot the tiniest bit closer to his side, your gaze lowering ever so slightly. “Once upon a time,” you start, your voice as smooth as velvet, “a god descended from the heavens and carved the world into the shape it is today.” You traced your finger along the soft dirt. “He made valleys and hills, oceans and rivers, decorating the land with flowers and trees. The world he made was beautiful, but it was lonely, so he filled it with people to keep him company. He was so full of joy to have friends, until one day, he fell in love.”
Your demeanour, which had been cheerful up until this point, suddenly shifted, darkening as you let out a sigh. “He fell in love so quickly and so deeply that he was blind to the nature of his own creations, as they had a mortal lifespan, unlike him. When his lover died, a part of his soul died with them. He vanished after that, never to be seen again.” You curl your knees to your chest, resting your head upon them. “Some people say he wanders the world, mourning for all of eternity. Others say he died of heartbreak. Even fewer believe that his lover’s lives on and he loves them still, although they’re not entirely sure. Either way, he has yet to appear, and humanity quietly awaits for his return.”
Dream is silent beside you, his lips pressed into a thin line as his chest rises and falls with the timing of his breaths. “Why is that story your favourite?” he finally asks.
You lift your head, surprise shooting across your face. “I’m not sure,” you say softly, pondering for a moment. “I just think he sounds so... sad. It’s a tragedy, what happened to him. He only wanted to not be alone anymore.” Your voice drops even lower. “He only ever wanted to love someone.”
An ache suddenly expands within his gut, digging into his sides of his skull with such ferocity he fears he may never escape it. That same, fleeting sense of solitude slinks around his lungs, squeezing and squeezing until your eyes lock into his, and they halt.
“Do you think that he lives on?” you whisper, your gaze searching his. “That he might have found someone else to keep him company, despite his sadness?”
You pause, something like hope sparking within your eyes. “Do you think... he ever loved again?”
Dream stares at you, and stares at you, and stares at you. Your lips are right there, are so dreadfully close to him as he looks at you, feeling the blood pound through his ears as the pain in his heart begins to lift. It rises higher and higher within him before sliding off his shoulders entirely, leaving nothing behind but tender affection and warmth—a warmth he had been yearning for for so, so long.
He smiles at you then, and for once, this one is real.
“Something tells me he did.”
Dream stretches his wings out behind him with a quiet groan, feeling the cool air ruffle his ivory white feathers. His cloak sits on the ground next to him while his golden halos spin rapidly atop his head from where they float, glowing faintly in the fading evening light. After a moment, he lets his wings fold back up against his back, lowering his arms with a sharp exhale. In the distance, he catches a glimpse of the setting sun just before it dips below the horizon, shrouding the world in darkness. With a bored look, he picks at his nail, curling his toes in his shoes.
He’s already waved you off and watched as you wove your way out of the clearing and between the forest’s tangled trees back to your village. Now, he has nothing left to do but wait for your return the next day, his throat aching for your arrival with every passing second.
How far I have fallen, he thinks distantly to himself, to be reduced to nothing more than a helpless admirer for a human.
A moment passes, and his heart sighs.
A lovely human, at that.
All of a sudden, he hears a stick snap behind him, and Dream immediately snaps his fingers, his wings and halos disappearing in a flash, almost as if they had never existed to begin with. Whipping around on his heel, he narrows his eyes at the clearing entrance, jaw clenched in preparation. His shoulders are raised at his side, tense with anticipation when just then...
...you stumble out of the forest, tears streaking down your face.
Dream’s shoulders fall in an instant.
“Dream,” you choke out, your voice cracking sharply.
You don’t even get the chance to open your mouth again before he’s standing in front of you, his hands gripping your shoulders as gently as he can manage. His eyes scan your face as his stomach churns with agony at the despair painted onto your features. “[Y/N],” he murmurs softly, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
You sniffle, lifting your head to look at him through watery eyes as you open your mouth. “Karl—he’s sick. Really sick,” you babble like a winding stream. “The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, and he’s been coughing so badly that you can just tell he’s in pain. At this rate, I—I’m scared he’s not going to get any better. He... I’ve known him since forever, and I—”
The words die in your mouth as you cut yourself off with a broken sob, and Dream almost feels as though he’s been stabbed in the gut. He never wants to see you in pain, to see you as sad as this, and the fact that you are sobbing at all makes him want to wail himself.
Softly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing you close to your chest as he rocks you gently back and forth with your head resting on his shoulder. Your tears soak his shirt, but he doesn’t mind one bit. “Shh, [Y/N],” he coos quietly. “It’s going to be okay.”
You pull back with a wary gaze, fear etched into your features. “How do you know that?” you whisper. “What if he doesn’t get better? What then?”
Dropping one arm from behind you, Dream slips a hand into his pocket, quickly rubbing his fingers together. Just like that, cool glass that wasn’t there a moment earlier presses against the warmth of his palm, and he pulls out a vial filled with a pale, rosy liquid.
“Here,” he says, pressing the vial into your hand. “This is an antidote I’ve been...” He pauses for a split second, then fibs. “...holding onto for a while. For emergencies.” Slowly, he clasps your fingers until they’re closed around the glass top, sending you a reassuring smile. “Give this to Karl, and I promise you he’ll recover.”
You blink at him, your eyes glimmering underneath the light of the swirling stars overhead. “You swear?” you ask meekly, hope dancing along the edge of your lashes.
Dream swallows thickly and nods. “On my life.”
You inhale a deep, shuddering breath, then raise your hand to wipe at your eyes before smiling at him, warm and full of affection. “Okay,” you murmur as you step back from him. “I trust you, Dream.”
The next morning, you come tumbling into Dream’s arms with a gleeful cry, tears flowing freely down your face as you knock him to the ground. This time, they’re there for an entirely different reason as you ramble about Karl’s cleared airways when the doctor came to check on him after you fed him the antidote.
Beneath you, Dream relishes in the warmth of your body against his, praying you cannot feel the way his heart hammers against his chest.
There were not enough words in the world that he could use to describe how deep his devotion to you ran.
He fears there may never be enough.
Months pass in a blur, and Dream watches with knowing eyes as summer turns to autumn. Soon enough, snow coats the clearing although the waterfall continues to flow. No matter how harsh the weather, you stumble your way back to the forest to him, and each day, Dream feels himself sink deeper and deeper into the very essence that is you.
To think that there was once a time he never wanted to return here at all.
“Dream,” you say abruptly one day, “you know, I think you might be my favourite person in the world.”
He cocks a brow at you, his lips twitching up into a small smirk. “In the world?” he repeats. “I think Karl would be offended.”
You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t stop the smile from stretching across your face. “Maybe, but it’s the truth!” You lift a hand and begin counting off on your fingers. “You’re—you’re so nice, and passionate, and bold, and bright, and...” You pause, then chuckle almost shyly. “I could go on and on, but that’s embarrassing.”
He chuckles at your words, only growing more and more enamoured with each word that falls from your lips. “It’s not embarrassing,” he says gently. “It’s cute.”
Your shoulders suddenly stiffen, and you slowly turn your head to glance up at him. “Cute? You think I’m cute?”
He doesn’t have to think twice about his response. “Very much so. I would dare say that you are even more beautiful than you are cute.”
You whine with a pout, heat crawling up the side of your neck as you dig your thumbs into your palms. “You can’t just say things like that.”
He stares at you for a second, then he flashes you a grin that is both parts wicked and affectionate. “Maybe, but it’s the truth.”
Your mouth drops open at the way he fires your own words back at you, and you gape at him a moment before you groan, reaching over to playfully bat at his arm. “Why, you!”
He laughs at you and loves the way he can tell your heart races in your chest. He loves the way you smile despite your small shouts of frustration. He loves the way you are just so endearing to him in every which way.
He laughs at you and he loves you, hopelessly and wholly.
Dream gazes up at the orange sky with a slight frown and furrowed brows, watching as the clouds coast by overhead on a distant, northern gale. The waterfall babbles restlessly at his side, and he taps his foot against the smooth stones lining the pond with abandonment. The flowers he had once grown rake this petals over the soles of his shoes as he lets out a long sigh, anxiety slowly beginning to paw at his backside.
Are you going to show up at all today? he wonders. There are some days you don’t appear at all, typically because you had to run some errands or something of the sort, but those days are few and far between. He won’t chastise you for not seeing him, of course, but he cannot simply ignore the pang of his heart when he misses you so.
His fingers drum against the cool material clutched in his hands, and a melancholic look flits over his features. It would be a shame if you didn’t appear though, especially given what he had in mind for the day.
Right then, he hears your lovely voice call out for him. “Dream!”
His frown is immediately replaced by a smile as he whirls around to see you, his hands carefully tucked behind his back. “[Y/N],” he greets, striding up to you. “It’s good to see you.”
You’ve only just made it in front of him when he opens his mouth again, excitement filling his words to the absolute brim. “I brought you a gift.”
You blink wildly at him, pointing to yourself in surprise. “For me?”
His grin only grows wider, his heart leaping into his throat. “Of course it’s for you, silly. Who else?”
You squint for a second, then smile. “Karl?”
Dream deadpans at you, and you laugh in return, not noticing the way his eyes melt fondly at your expression. “I’m kidding,” you chide, shuffling a step closer to him. “So, what is it?”
He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet when he finally brings his hands out from behind him, pushing them towards you. “Ta-da! Here.”
Your breath catches at the sight of his palms, and with trembling hands, you reach up to pull the curved item from his hand. “Is this... a shell?” you whisper, your eyes as wide as saucers.
He nods, his emerald eyes gleaming with pride. “A conch shell,” he says. “From the ocean.”
You sputter as you gently turn the shell over in your hands, your fingers tracing over the solid edges with nothing short of pure shock. “H-How did you even get this? The nearest ocean is at least a week’s travel on horse away!”
Dream thinks of the wings he typically had tucked on his back and how they carried him to the ocean and back in less than a few minutes, but to you, he only smiles and shrugs. “I have my ways.”
You don’t respond for a moment, then two. All of a sudden, you sniffle, and Dream is bending before you in a heartbeat, his hands reaching for yours before just stopping short. “[Y/N]?” he asks in a soothing tone. “Is something wrong?”
Your gaze is watery, but only slightly as you raise your chin to look at him, your lower lip set with determination. “Dream,” you say with a shaky breath, “I have to tell you something.” You gulp. “It’s serious.”
Immediately, Dream’s mind runs through a million and five possibilities of what you could possibly say to him, each one increasingly worse than the last. Your family is in need of funds, or you’re about to leave on a life-threatening journey. Or maybe Karl is just sick, again.
But before he can run himself into the ground with his own worries, Dream lets out a breath and tilts his head at you. “What is it?”
Your gaze falls down to your feet, and you stare at the earth for an excruciatingly long minute. Dream simply stands in front of you, patiently and earnestly waiting for your response when you suddenly open your mouth.
“I—I love you.”
Dream’s lungs feel as though they are about to collapse in his chest. “You do?”
You bite your lip, but raise your head, your shoulders trembling at your sides. “Yes,” you whisper, the syllable steeped with emotion. With one hand clasped around the conch shell, the other reaches up to rest over your chest, palm pressed flats against your left side. “My heart is yours, all of it.”
The world is a blur of colours and sounds around him, and he can feel his head spin faster and faster as a wave of memories come crashing down over him, drowning him whole. He wants to tear his hair out and scream to the heavens above until his throat is raw and he can scream no more.
You love him. You love him back, and as much as he wants to burn your words into the back of his eyelids, something else sinks its claws into his heart and tears a hole right into the flesh.
This is not the first time you have spoken these words to him. No, not at all.
He had done his best to forget them over all those years, had tried his best to outrun the anguish with every century he lived through. After all, when you live as long as he has, it is only natural for him to forget some things. Through wandering across every land he had lovingly sculpted by hand, he had hoped to erase his suffering by engulfing himself in other worldly affairs, isolating himself entirely from others.
But no amount of time could ever truly erase the memories he had of you—the first incarnation of you, from all those years ago.
He remembers how the two of you had shared your first kiss under the light of the full moon, giggling to one another as he wrapped you up in his soft feathers. He remembers the way you would hold his hand and tell him about all the things you could not wait to do with him in the very same clearing he stood in now. He remembers the way your body went limp in his own arms, coughing until your lungs could cough no more. He remembers the agony and the torment as he wasted away, too caught up in the imprint of your skin against his before you turned to dust before his very eyes.
He remembers it all, and he cannot not let himself be shattered like that, again.
“I have to go,” he whispers, jerking his arm back from yours.
You whip your head up, pain shooting across your face. “Y-You’re leaving? What?”
He takes another step back and swallows down the lump in his throat, but it tastes like acid burning his stomach. “I—I can’t stay here.”
Before he can move back again, your hand shoots out to grab at the hem of his shirt, desperation soaking into your face: “P-Please,” you plead, “you can just say you don’t love me back. My feelings for you won’t change.”
He wants to cry. No, he thinks, it’s not that. It could never be that. Not with you.
You clutch at the cloth, hoping your feelings somehow reach him through your anguished touch. “I love you, Dream,” you begin, “I really do. I love how attentive you are, how much you always seem to care. You’re always so patient with me, so kind, so generous, and it makes me melt inside. I love the way your eyes shine so brightly, and I love your little freckles. I want to count them all, and I don’t mind if that takes the rest of eternity.”
You’re almost entirely out of breath by now, and Dream’s jaw has gone slack. He can only stare at you with a look of pure conflicting despair as your eyes search his for answers he knows he cannot possibly give. “An eternity with you would be nothing,” you breathe, your voice cracking. Your grip on his shirt suddenly goes limp, and your arm falls back to your side. “Please. Stay.”
The knife in his gut only seems to twist deeper as he takes yet another step back, his cloak feeling like a boulder upon his back. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I really can’t.”
Tears line your eyes like tiny jewels, and he wishes he could wipe them away. “Why?” you beg. “Why do you have to go?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. He doesn’t even know where to begin.
In front of him, a look of absolute defeat sinks into your expression, and your voice grows smaller than ever. “At least—at least tell me if I’ll ever see you again.”
Dream’s feels the back of his eyes sting, and he clenched his hands beside him. “Not in this lifetime,” he wants to say. “And hopefully not in the next, either.”
“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he says instead.
Just like that, he watches as the light fades from your eyes, vanishing from sight as the setting sun watches on with a sad gaze. Your lower lip trembles, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crumpling to the ground in a heap and watering the earth with your tears. You clutch the conch shell to your chest and let it dig into your chest from how tightly you press it against yourself, your vision completely blurred. In front of you, Dream holds back tears of his own, forcing himself to look away from your broken figure as he walks toward the forest away from you.
Your wails follow after him even after he unfurls his wings deep in the forest and soars up into the sky, flying high above the world below as he dries his tears with the harsh wind that bites at his face.
He will not return here for a long, long time.
He doesn’t think he would even be able to bring himself to if he tried.
Dream brushes a stray leaf off his shoulder as he steps over a root, his eyes focused on the bushes before him. A bird chirps as he strolls past a tree, nestling further into its nest as he ducks under the branch. He smiles at the sight, a deep fondness seeping into his heart as he lets his hand run over the tree’s hard bark.
He recognizes this forest—these trees. He knows this sky, has leapt over these rocks. He’s walked this path before.
It’s a shame he can’t remember how long it’s been since he last came here.
He hums a quiet melody to himself as he weaves a path between the trees, drawing nearer and nearer to the place he had been searching for with every passing second. He’s only a few steps away when a sound calls out to him—a sound that isn’t a part of the forest.
Dream goes stock still, his heart coming to a screeching halt in his chest.
He knows that voice, too.
Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly steps forward, out into the entrance of the clearing. In front of the waterfall stands a silhouette he is absolutely positive he’s seen before—countless times before. Something tells him that he should leave, that he should run far, far away and disappear from view. But as he watches the silhouette take a tentative step toward him, his inhibitions fall away.
Warmth blossoms in the space between his lungs, all encompassing and full of grief as he opens his mouth.
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Biggest congrats on 500!! i can already tell you're gonna gain a whole lot more soon 🥺 if you're still doin requests, may I ask for nsfw #35 with itadori?Have a gr8 day bby !
thank you so much for your words ily <3 i hope you have a wonderful day, and that you enjoy this, mwah <333
nsfw under the cut, my loves! yuuji’s aged up!
500 Follower Event; 35. dry humping ━ itadori yuuji
as much as he wouldn’t want to admit it out loud, it’s blatantly obvious yuuji’s much less experienced than you, at least sexually. it’s not that he’s never had the chance to go further with anyone he’s been with, but it had never felt right. and he’s so thankful for you, because you’re so, so patient with him, and so understanding. you never rush him, never expect anything more for him, always reassuring him he’s more than enough for you.
he can tell, with every heated make out session, that you’re sexually frustrated. it’s crystal clear to him, with the way you rock your hips in earnest, seeking any sort of friction with and from him. and he wishes he could give it to you, but he can’t. not yet.
he’s hovering above you now, your hands in his hair, tugging lightly as his lips meet yours in a bruising kiss. honest to god, yuuji could simply get off to the feel of you kissing him. it’s intoxicating, the way you taste and feel, burning desire always so evident. one hand grips your waist tightly, gripping at the shirt you have on, while the other rests by your head, holding himself up, he feels your hips rise with eagerness, involuntarily trying to meet his, and he groans helplessly, parting your lips.
your eyes are glossy, a little cloudy, as you stare up at him in wonder. his exhale is shaky as he shifts his body, moving from above you to sit by you. he can tell he’s aroused too, the feeling isn’t foreign to him, but the proximity of you while he’s like this is. with another unsteady sigh, he says, “i’m sorry.”
you’re quick to sit up, turning his face to look at yours while cupping his cheek. “no, no, there’s nothing to apologize for,” you promise with a gentle smile. you reach over and peck the corner of his mouth as affirmation, settling back against the pillows and reaching for your phone.
he calls for your name, and you disregard the phone, paying him full attention. “i want to make you feel good,” he starts. “i just — i just don’t know if i’m comfortable with going all the way yet.” his wavering voice sounds unfamiliar to him, but he meets your eyes with a strong gaze to make up for it.
your smile is still soft when he looks at you. “that’s okay, yu,” you say. “i’m okay with it like this, i promise.”
still, he doesn’t let up. “can we — um —” he stutters, before clearing his throat, and reaching for your wrist. upon feeling your pulse, steadying him, he finds the courage to say, “come sit on my lap.” he sees you shiver in response, but otherwise, you don’t falter, and you scramble to climb onto his lap. you find yourself often there, and it’s always comfortable being in yuuji’s grasp. but with the way he’s looking at you now, it feels immensely different.
“yuuji?” you ask cautiously at the feel of his hands hovering unsurely near your hips. he blinks, once, twice, before situating his hands on them. then, experimentally, he pushes you down tightly, guiding you once along his crotch. you gasp in surprise, your hands flying to clutch at his shoulders. “again,” you mumble, and, eyes still trained on where your body meets his, he lifts his hips up, pushing you along with him. it elicits another gasp from you, even if there’s minimal movement and friction, and he’s assuming it’s the excitement of it all.
one of your hands travel to your hips, resting above his hand. slowly, you grind down your hips, your shorts riding up along your thighs slightly. “this okay?” you breathlessly ask. his eyes find yours, and at the sight of him, you nearly succumb to all your desires. his pupils are fully blown, mouth parted in an endless gasp and cheeks ever so slightly tinted pink. he nods, confirming his consent, but you nudge at his chin, leaning closer as you whisper, “i need you to say it, baby.”
“please,” he rasps out. “please — want you.”
you pull him in for a searing kiss, letting your hips move in tandem with him. you moan at the friction against your clit, at the feel of him hardening and straining against his pants. he gasps and moans into your mouth as you press down harder against him, and god, this is numbing every nerve and simultaneously alighting them all on fire. his mouth opens for you, letting your tongue past, allowing you to suck on the muscle between his lips. he whimpers and whines at the overstimulation, and you want to save this all to memory because this is masturbation material for months. he feels so good against you, and you know you’re drenching yourself, past the boundaries of your panties and through your shorts.
with another harsh rut of your hips, you remove your lips from his, a single line of spit connecting you two. “i can — oh — i can feel you,” he confirms for you, his eyes darting momentarily to where you’re harshly grinding against him.
with a grin, you lick your lips, diving in to kiss at his neck. he throws his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head and hands gripping the flesh of your ass as you suck on his throat. you can tell his heart’s racing unbearably at the quickening pulse you feel beneath your lips, and you suck at the skin harder, moaning loudly against his neck while you work at driving him closer to his orgasm. you know he won’t last long by the way he’s impossibly hardening underneath you, and you think good, good, go over, baby, good.
he gasps out loudly, his nails digging into your skin, and your lips travel higher, closer to his ear, nipping at his earlobe. you can feel your own orgasm approaching, and accidentally, you let out a strangled whine, directly by his ear, and he groans in surprise, his hips rutting up against you suddenly. “come on yuuji, cum for me,” you whisper, and he outright sobs, tightening the knot in your stomach. “m’gonna cum, baby, all for you. only for you,” you squeal out, your arms coming to wrap around his neck.
his arms travel to snake around your waist, holding you directly to his chest, burying his face in your neck as he lifts up his legs, bending them at the knees. one, two, three thrusts up, and he has you screaming, his arms tightening around you and his fingers gripping at the shirt you wear so tight there’s no way he hasn’t torn it. your orgasm shakes through you, leaving you a whining, screaming mess on his lap as your cunt clenches around nothing, gushing out through your shorts and on his trousers. similarly, yuuji’s arms shake with both the impossible strength he holds you with and the strong orgasm. his crotch continues to grind against yours as he rides his orgasm, the front of his trousers, stained with his messy cum.
“fuck, fuck,” he’s gasping, his hips settling back down on your bed, legs stretching out again, as he calms down. weakly, you shudder, lifting up your head and facing him. anxiously, he asks, “was that okay?”
you smile dreamily at him, still in your post orgasm haze, and cup his cheeks with both hands, leaning in to kiss him. “it was perfect.”
500 Followers Event is now closed!
end note; why was this so long omg. anyways, this might be my favorite smut piece i’ve ever written and idk why. i love writing about 2d characters in sexual situations than working on the university essay i have due literally tonight <3
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Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader
A/N: I’m very excited to get this out finally! Thank you so much to everyone who has waited and been so excited and who loved Siren. I think the reception Siren got really encouraged me a lot to write this companion piece. Another big thank you to Shay/@bobawithpomegranate for commissioning this piece as well! Your trust in me to deliver is wonderful and and very appreciated, and I feel like this fic specifically let us get to know each other better, and you’re so sweet and wonderful and I love talking to you hhhhh Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this fic and that it holds up as a companion piece!
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, Reader POV, Drinking, Flirting, Mildly Possessive Sex, Breast Worship, Nipple Play, Oral (reader receiving), Top!Kiyoomi uwu, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Begging, Kiyoomi Being Gorgeous, Soft Romance uwu, Aftercare, no beta we die like men
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You give a polite smile to Meian as he talks about the travel plans being implemented for MSBY’s first series of away games coming up. You listen politely, not really absorbing the information. It’s kind of hard with how good he looks in his suit, but then again everyone in the event hall looks good. Dressed up well for the new volleyball season celebration. There’s a number of people in attendance who aren’t just related in some way to MSBY, as it's organized by the Japanese Volleyball Association.
It’s your first time attending, and you’re here as Sakusa Kiyoomi’s date.
Your eyes wander the room as the Captain speaks. You feel a little out of place among all the tall, incredibly in shape and beautiful people here. Of course you dressed up to match Kiyoomi’s sleek all black ensemble, but you can’t help being self conscious of the clinging fabric and the low cut of your dress, the thin straps on your shoulders leaving little to cover your shoulders and arms, the short length riding high on your thighs.
You find your partner on the other side of the room. He’s leaning against the bar with a glass of whiskey, looking as bored as you feel with his old high school and current teammates who have made it pro. Komori seems to be chattering quickly with Bokuto, both on either side of the tall spiker and his equally quiet high school captain--Iizuna Tsukasa, you think--and you want to laugh a little when he rolls his eyes, the exasperation gone unnoticed by the chattier group.
But the irritated eye movement brings his gaze to you. It feels like an electric zap straight through the stomach when his drowsy glance finds yours. His brows arch ever so slightly, his fingers tapping along the crystal in his hands, and his head tilts, bringing an elegant black curl across his forehead.
He’s clearly checking you out--blatantly, openly, though the look again goes unnoticed by the players he stands with. Like he hadn’t watched you get ready alongside with him, his hands wandering your sides and shoulders in between buttoning up his black shirt and straightening out the lapels of his jacket, gold watch and cuff links glinting and cool against your skin while he admired you, blessing your neck with one, two, open mouthed kisses before helping you into your own coat by the door.
You can’t help tightening your crossed arms as your body reacts to the memory of the heat in his eyes in the mirror as he’d kissed you, the way his hands had stroked softly at your arms until you were shivering.
You take a sip of your champagne and try not to drown in obsidian pools of desire from across the room.
“You’ve been really good for him.”
You almost choke on your sip, feeling hot under your dress for getting caught staring back at Kiyoomi. You glance up at the tall MSBY captain, whose grinning good-naturedly down at you.
You smile. “He’s a good man. Very thoughtful. I can only hope I’ve treated him the same.”
Meian hums, leaning against one of the tables behind him, where you and a number of the other MSBY players and their dates had been sitting together. Meian had been on your other side, which is how you got roped into conversation with him in the first place once all the announcements and the dinner had concluded.
“I think you have. He’s been on the team for a few years, and since dating you I think he’s relaxed a lot.”
That warms your heart. Sakusa Kiyoomi is still an awkward man, still moves through life with anxiety sitting on his shoulders. When you met him, his only outlet had really been his family, volleyball, and the friends he had in those small circles, and he’d seemed content with it.
You would have believed him, too, if he wasn’t so restless. He clearly wanted to pursue you, and you didn’t mind such a handsome man giving you attention, but he didn’t seem to know how except that he wanted to. He’s rough around the edges--still is sometimes, if you’re honest, but who isn’t occasionally? But he was earnest and nervous and you were starstruck by someone as gorgeous as him taking a risk just for you, though you wouldn't know the weight of his actions until later into your relationship.
To you, dating had only been a relatively casual affair. To Kiyoomi, dating was anything but.
The more you think about it, the more you feel like you have to agree with Meian. Sakusa has found joy in things that you enjoy, things that he wouldn’t have normally sought to do on his own. Similarly, you’ve found yourself adopting habits and interests of his that are, arguably, improvements from where you had been before. And they’re habits and interests that he appreciates deeply from you, because he’s told you as much. It used to be like pulling teeth with him to admit vulnerability, but at some point in your growing relationship there was a mysterious switch that seemed to flip for him, a realization that he liked being vulnerable with you.
He still gets stuck on his words and feelings sometimes, but the fact that he trusts you enough to say them at all means the world to you, even if it takes him some time to figure out how to say them.
You’re more than happy to be patient with him, because he’s willing to work with you to make your relationship work. You met Sakusa Kiyoomi at a time of great success in his life, and yet he was still lonely and wanting, realizing that maybe there was more to life than just success in volleyball, and he was eager to find out just what more meant with you.
The thought makes you laugh softly, finishing off your glass of champagne with a backward tilt of your head.
Glancing at the empty glass, you give Meian a smile. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
He gives you a humored grin, glancing over your shoulder. “Of course. You look like you need another drink. Your man will probably get it for you.” You scoff in bashful amusement, and Meian’s loud laugh almost echoes over the din of various conversations around you.
He turns to give playful grief to the nearby captain of the Schweiden Adlers, and you take that as your que to slowly turn on your reasonable heels that are starting to make your feet ache, once again meeting the shameless gaze of your partner that’s been burning a pleasant hole in your back for a few minutes now.
Kiyoomi is still watching you. Your skin prickles with the obvious desire in his sleepy gaze despite the passive expression on his face. He’s still leaning against the bar amongst his friends, who are all leaning over to inspect something on Atsumu’s phone, Kiyoomi not at all invested in whatever it might be. You can’t help the way you laugh a little.
You don’t know why you’re struck with anticipation and nerves as you begin to stroll around the table. You fiddle with your empty champagne flute just to have something to do as you cross the expanse of the floor, strappy heels pushing your hips to sway, the cool air in the room rolling over your shoulders. You pass between towering volleyball players and their partners and their managers and sponsors, but never have to take your eyes off of Kiyoomi’s dark stare. And he lets his eyes wander up and down your figure as you grow closer, his shoulders rolling back where he sits half-perched on a barstool, the rotating chair swaying slowly in your direction.
Beside him, Komori is suddenly pushed up from his hunched position towards Atsumu’s phone. He glances down at his cousin’s hand, the back of it pressed into his chest, up towards Kiyoomi, and then follows his gaze to you. The brunette’s confused eyes warm, and he grins, stepping back with Kiyoomi’s gesture.
“Hey!” He greets happily, shuffling as you slip through to get closer to your boyfriend, the brunette making space for you.
“Hi ‘Mori,” you breathe, sounding a little more whispery and dreamy than you mean to as Kiyoomi’s hand slides across your back, hooking with your waist to pull your body against his front. It’s a strong pull, though not disorienting. Your skin feels hot under your dress where his long fingers press through the thin, clinging fabric, the satin slipping under his touch as it molds even closer to the shape of your hip and waist. It’s almost like there’s nothing between his hand and your body with the slip-like dress you chose to wear tonight.
“You look great tonight!” He tells you cheerily, eyes sweeping over you briefly. You do the same to him, taking in the flowery button up shirt tucked into a solid colored, well-fitted slacks and leather shoes.
“You do, too!” You tell him, leaning back against Kiyoomi’s chest.
Atsumu’s loud call of your name interrupts whatever the sweet brunette was going to say next, and you glance towards the cluster of volleyball players. “Tell me you don’t think this is wild!”
He shoves his phone in your face, but before you can get a good look at whatever twitter thread is in front of your nose, Kiyoomi is pushing his hand down with a scowl.
“She doesn’t care about your dating drama, Atsumu,” he grunts. On his other side, Iizuna laughs at the pouting setter.
Atsumu turns those chocolate eyes on you again, and you can’t help laughing at his over the top pout. “You’d care if my heart was broken wouldn’t you?” He asks pleadingly. “You’re not as mean as Omi!”
“Of course,” you reply, a mocking amount of sympathy in your voice that gets a few guffaws from the men and their dates around you. “I’m sure whatever it is she was saying has just been so tear-jerking with how much you’ve been laughing about it over here.”
Atsumu scoffs, but his lips are pulling into a grin, his own amusement shining through. “Yeah, real gut-busting.”
You start laughing yourself, leaning back against Kiyoomi and finally accepting the phone the blonde keeps waving in your face. Behind you, Kiyoomi sighs, and you can feel him peering over your shoulder as you scroll through the thread.
Kiyoomi snorts softly in your ear. “We would never be this garish.”
Your lips pull into a big grin, your brows arching at the rather explicit complaints Atsumu’s ex had about him. “What? If we broke up?”
His hand squeezes tightly to your waist, arm curled so close around your that his palm is inching closer to your stomach. “No. Because we wouldn’t break up.”
You stop reading whatever wild story the girl on twitter is telling about Atsumu’s sexual habits and almost shove the blonde his phone back. He fumbles with it, brows raised, but doesn’t interrupt when you spin around to look up at your boyfriend.
With one look at you, Kiyoomi deposits his near-empty whiskey glass on the bar behind Iizuna. Both his hands fall to your waist, peering down his nose at you. His brow rises, and to the untrained eye, he would almost look condescending. But you see the faint blush on his cheeks, and you see the little upwards curl at the corner of his mouth and the crinkle in his eyes.
“Oh we wouldn’t?” Your voice is breathless, but you don’t care if Komori or Iizuna or anyone else hears it this time.
His throat bobs in a swallow. “No.” He sounds so sure, and it makes your heart flutter and your stomach flip. His big hands weave together at the curve of your spine, resting there to pull you in closer against him. He doesn’t bend down to kiss you or hug you tighter, but you feel as if he’s staking a claim on you for some reason, and you’re half wondering if it’s because he’s been drinking or if it’s something else tonight that’s happened. “We won’t.”
Your hand flutters around on his chest--fiddling with the lapels of his jacket, adjusting his open shirt collar, stroking across the hollow of his throat and the beginnings of his prominent collar bone just peeking out beneath the black fabric. He watches you all the while, breathing deeply at your touch.
You glance back up towards him, leaning your front against him. With everything done and only schmoozing left between the guests, you ask, “Do you want to go home?”
“Yes.” He answers immediately, making you laugh quietly. He pushes off the little stool, one hand staying glued to your waist, and turns his eyes to the men and other dates around him. “I’ll see you at practice.”
“Leaving already?” Bokuto whines good-naturedly. You can see the slight smirk on Atsumu and decidedly ignore it.
“Be safe on your way home!” Komori tells you happily. You give out hugs, though Kiyoomi’s hand stays tight in yours, and you’re laughing as he starts to impatiently pull on your arm, until you’re both traipsing out of the event hall, giving nods or waves in lieu of stopping to give goodbyes.
Kiyoomi is casting you fond glances that you can’t help smiling quietly, eagerly at. His lips curl as he collects your coats, knuckles dragging up your arms when he helps you into yours. When you turn towards him, he moves to help you close yours, but you gently stop him.
“I’m a little warm,” you sigh out, tilting your head back, looking over his pretty face. Kiyoomi hums, giving you the same attention as he pulls his own coat over his suit.
“Are you?” He asks softly. Something about his tone has you biting your lip, has you swallowing thick. You nod, almost timidly, getting a little lost in his gaze.
From the inside coat pocket, he pulls out a black mask, hooking it over his ears, pulling it across his pretty face. He pauses when you catch his elbow, eyes crinkling when you tug. He’s smiling when he leans down, mask caught on his fingers, to give you a soft peck here in the darkened hallway between the hall and the entryway of the building.
You pull away with a pleased grin, and he covers his own smirk with his mask, taking your hand once more.
The cool autumn air feels good on your overly warm neck and face. You once again feel as if you don’t need your coat with Kiyoomi so close to you, but you know he wouldn’t approve of you taking it off. So instead your arms stretch between you, held aloft by your entwined hands, and take in as much of the breeze as you can. Your coat flutters happily and you sigh and cast Kiyoomi a smile, who's watching you all the while.
“Should we find a cab or take the train??” You ask, feeling a weariness settle into your bones after a long evening dressed up and socializing. You’re sure Kiyoomi must be feeling the same.
“Cab.” He answers.
You’re about to pull Kiyoomi down the steps from the glass doors when he suddenly slips his hand from yours and says, "Wait."
You teeter at the top of the steps, watching Kiyoomi's tall form quickly descend the steps ahead of you.
At the bottom he turns, curling hair fluttering in the wind, the dark night air warm on your skin.
He gestures. "Okay. Come here."
With a raised eyebrow, you follow after him, though slower. Your heels click loud on the marble steps, and about halfway down, you realize Kiyoomi is staring at the bounce of your chest, the sway of your hips.
You scoff his name, laughing and quickly meeting him at the bottom, cognizant of the way speeding up makes the rest of you bounce. Kiyoomi grins--you can see the way his cheeks plump up at the top of his mask, the crinkle of his eyes--wrapping his arm around you and pulling you towards the many cabs lined up along the street.
“Did you enjoy that, perv?” You joke, leaning into his side.
He hums. “Very.” You scoff but feel a coiling pleasure that’s been building all night between you tighten delightfully, his hand squeezing on your waist only making it burn brighter.
You give him a fond glance. “You had a good night.” You state as he guides you towards one of the many parked cars waiting outside the fancy convention center.
His hand squeezes your waist again, opening the back door for you and helping you slide in. He follows after, his knees bending up into the smaller space, pulling the door shut after himself. He looks to you in the darkness of the backseat, pulling you back into his side.
“I did,” he murmurs. He pauses to stare for a moment before he pulls his mask down with a single finger, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth before readjusting it over the bridge of his nose. You feel a warmth unfurl in you, his arm still wrapped around you while he leans forward to give the driver your address. As the cab pulls away from the curb, you let yourself sink against his shoulder, tilting your head up to gaze at his pretty face.
He sighs, tilting his head down to brush his forehead against yours. He looks sleepy, and he probably is exhausted after a night of schmoozing and wearing stuffy clothing, but his hand hasn’t stopped its slow massage of you hips, plucking teasingly at the side of your dress, tracing the faint texture of your thong where it sits high over your hip.
“Did you?” He asks, thumb digging pleasantly into your waist. “Have a good time?”
You nod, smiling. “It was fun. Everyone looked great.” You pet your hand down the black silky fabric on his broad chest. “You look great.”
It’s become very easy to read him behind the mask. You can see the way his eyes narrow, how one of his brows arches almost playfully, pleased with your compliment, once again looking you over with great appreciation. You have no doubt he can see down the front of your dress from his angle, not that he hasn’t seen it before, and yet it still makes you preen, still has your head falling back further so he can see even more, even though your dress leaves little to the imagination already.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers with an earnestness that makes you squirm, his hand stroking warm and tender over your bare throat to cup the back of your neck. You grip at the lapel of his suit jacket, the weave sturdy under your fingers, and he leans down at your insistence, squeezing his big hand to the bend of your waist to let you pull his mask down for another kiss. It’s longer this time, but not nearly as deep, and he hears the breathy, whispery, pouty sound, and he gives you another grin before it’s hidden once more from you. Beneath your hand, you can feel the race of his heart.
“You think so?” You ask playfully, shifting closer. You’re practically pinning him to the back corner of the car, against the door, but he doesn’t seem to mind a bit. His other hand slides down your thigh when you hook your knees over his, the hand on your waist ever present and sturdy.
He hums, low and lulling, your eyes drooping and your head falling back so you can look up at him. Dark eyes look you over from breast to lips and back to your eyes, and you can only gulp at the hunger you see reflected back at you. “I do. I always do.”
It’s times like tonight that you can’t help appreciating how to the point he is. You can understand where some might find it off-putting or inconsiderate, but you know you’ll never be lied to. Know he would never hide his feelings. It’s too hard for him, and he doesn’t want to be misleading or hide behind lies. Perhaps it was a little hard in the beginning, but once you got over his frankness with his words, grew comfortable in his honesty and to expect it at both the best and worst times, you’ve come to see it for what it is; a raw appraisal of Kiyoomi and all he has to give. There are no games, there are no suspicions. He gives all that he is to everyone, even if they don’t see it at first.
And he gives more to you. Has given so much more of himself to you than he has to anyone else, and you bask in it and give back all that you can.
The air feels thick in the tiny backseat of the cab, only made tinier by the fact you can’t peel yourself away from Kiyoomi. Not that he’s helping, with the way his strong grip keeps you in your place. You let yourself pet over his chest and under the lapels of his suit, and he does nothing to stop you, his thumb pressing back and forth into the give of your thigh, hand slinking higher and higher as the drive goes on.
Kiyoomi already has the money out to pay before the cab has even pulled up to your building, popping the door open and helping you out. His hand remains on your hip on the walk up to your apartment, until he’s shedding his mask and coat and taking yours to put away, kicking out of his shoes while you pluck at the straps of your heels.
You watch him wash his hands and dry them, pulling out two glasses to fill with water while you wash your own.
“Drink,” he tells you, glass clinking against the tiles of your kitchen counter. You do as you’re told, under his approving eye as he finishes his own cup, setting his in the sink, taking yours when you’re done.
This song and dance between you isn’t so odd or strange. You feel like you’ve done it so many times after coming home from dates or hanging out with friends in the past few weeks. A shift in energy disguised as routine and domesticity, where Kiyoomi can feel as if he’s done the bare minimum to ensure that you’re both prepared and ready for what comes ahead, whether it’s rigorous or languid. You don’t care either way about it, beyond the affection you feel for the fact he wants to take care of you in any way he can to ensure your comfort. And there’s nothing wrong with drinking a little more water, too.
You lick your lips and blink up at him, failing to suppress a little smirk. Kiyoomi takes a deep breath in the quiet dark of your kitchen before taking a careful step into your space. You’re immediately overwhelmed by how good he smells, his body heat, his stature. You almost sway where you stand to look up at him, if not for his palms discovering the topography of your hips, over your waist, inching forward again until you have to crane your head back, gripping his suit jacket, feeling as if you might fall backwards without his support.
He’s gorgeous, curls mussed through the night from his hands gliding through his hair, falling forward around his face from being swept back. He steps forward again, and you’re forced to shuffle backwards, squeaking softly with a little laugh at his eagerness. It fills and swells within you in turn, til your lungs are tight, as if you can’t quite get enough air with each breath.
“I want you,” he whispers, holding your waist and walking you backwards towards your bedroom. You cling to him, your shorter legs shuffling along at his languid, long stroll. You make a weak sound, tugging him down for a kiss. He pauses to lean down and do so, standing in the middle of your apartment to dip his tongue between your lips and taste you. His hands explore further south, over the swell of your hips, over the soft curve of your ass, slipping easily over the silk that does little to hide the familiar terrain he finds.
The kiss breaks wet, and as he stands, you’re hoisted up with strong fingers wrapped beneath your thighs. You jump eagerly, fingers tangling in his curls to continue kissing him. The hem of your dress slinks up with his wrists, long digits squeezing at the fat and muscle he reveals.
“I want you, too,” you plead against his mouth, breathing heavy with him and wrapping your limbs all around him. It doesn’t feel like enough. As good as he looks in his suit, you want it off, want to feel his skin on yours, let him feel you to his heart’s desire. “All night, Kiyo--”
You gasp when you’re suddenly dropped, a rush of adrenaline and cool air. You bounce heavy on the mattress, limbs splayed to steady yourself after you bounce. Kiyoomi towers over you, pulling at his jacket until it’s discarded without a second thought, ripping at the buttons of his expensive silk shirt until the black fabric hangs half open over his shoulders.
He follows after you on his hands and knees, hands thorough and stroking up your thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up until your legs can spread around him. With ease, he picks you up again, your limbs wrapping around him for a deep, long kiss. It’s messy but terribly satisfying, and you giggle when he drops forward again, further of the bed, pressing you down into the pillows and just barely catching himself before he knocks his head with yours.
You reach for him, ready to strip him more, to feel his skin on yours, his curls between your fingers. You gasp when you only get to stroke down the soft skin of his chest, your wrists snagged and pushed up by your head, Kiyoomi’s strength easily outmatching you to pin you down.
Your throat clicks with a gulp, whining and wiggling beneath his weight, giving him wide, needy eyes. “K-Kiyoomi, what--”
His nose traces your cheek, nudges yours, silky soft parted lips brushing across yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before you can even try and deepen it. “Keep your hands here.” He pushes them further up, til they’re shoved under the pillow your head rests upon. You blink up at him, aroused and confused and frustrated by his order. His thin brows arch back, eyes sparking with something like amusement, something like excitement. “Understand?”
You whine. “Kiyo, I-I just--”
You can feel his heart thudding against your chest, where it presses to your breasts, when he leans in to brush his nose against yours, shaky breath rolling across your lips. “Behave.”
Your eyes widen, staring up into his. There’s a silence in the room that almost consumes you in a fiery, lustful spark. Kiyoomi looks you over, face carefully blank, but he can’t hide the reactions of his body. His sweating palms, his racing heart, the throb of his cock through his expensive slacks against your thigh.
It’s not as if you don’t realize you’ve taken the lead for a lot of your growing sexual relationship, nor have you noticed just how eager he is to take control and take charge, either. And so even when he gives you a chance to decline his order, knowing full well he would back off if you said you were uncomfortable, you stay silent. You’re anything but--or at least, not the kind of uncomfortable that calls for stopping. If anything, it’s the kind of uncomfortable that begs him to continue, that pleas for more, for carnal release.
You ease back against the pillows, and Kiyoomi rewards you with kisses that press you into them. For a long moment, that’s all you do, is kiss and stroke your legs over his thighs and hips, squeeze around his middle to feel him roll his cock forward into you. His hands weave with yours, pressing them in place as he dips his tongue between your lips and tastes you
When he finally pulls away, you’re hazy and pliant, whimpering softly with the wet disconnect of his lips from yours. He casts you a heavy, expectant glance from under long lashes, kissing your cheek. You obediently keep your hands buried under the pillows as he trails kisses down your neck, watching with bated breath as Kiyoomi kisses along the exposed skin of your collarbones and chest, tracing the low neckline of your dress. You gulp, only able to see the unruly but charming fall of his curling hair over his forehead, the kiss of his long lashes against his flushed cheeks, the catch of his soft lips on your skin. You arch with warm need beneath his weight, but don't move much.
His hands climb the seams at the side of your body, trace towards the thin straps struggling to cling to your shoulders. You shiver as he slowly drags down the front of your dress, those skimpy straps sagging down your biceps. Kiyoomi sucks away from your skin to watch as he delicately tucks the top of your dress down under your tits, breathing heavy and eager at the sight of them. You desperately fist the pillow under your head, sighing big to arch your back and push them up towards him.
You can’t help feeling flattered by just how entranced Kiyoomi seems with your body. You know you're the first person he’s ever touched like this, ever experienced such pleasures with, but his awe of you burns you, makes you ache unlike anything you’ve ever experienced yourself with anyone else, until you feel like the only thing that could soothe you is him and his attention.
Kiyoomi’s thumbs stroke back and forth along your collar bones, blown out dark eyes meeting yours from under messy, curly bangs. “Can I touch you?” As if he hasn’t already, but you know what he means. He wants to grope you, fondle you, feel your body in every way he can.
“Please?” Your whispery voice cracks with need, and Kiyoomi only seems to blush more, gnawing on his bottom lips as his big hands trace down over the skin he’s already explored but no less enraptured by, it seems.
His palms cup your tits from the outside, his hands big enough that his thumbs catch all the way beneath them. He curls his fingers around your flesh and squeezes, soft and experimental. He watches the way your tits move, how they perk up towards him with his manipulation, and tentatively he swipes his thumbs back and forth over the firmed, pointed flesh of your nipples.
You moan, digging your head back into the pillows. His gentle touch is as teasing as it is deliberate, though perhaps not for the reasons you initially think. He probably doesn’t quite realize just how torturous it is to have him drag the pads of his thumbs back and forth, thoroughly pressing and flicking over your nipples. It only takes a few passes to make them feel raw. His fingers squeeze and grip at where your breasts sit on your chest, feeling their give and weight, seemingly very satisfied with the way his fingers sink into your softer flesh.
He suddenly pinches both, and pulls. Kiyoomi glances up at you, your eyes meeting despite how you want to shy away. Your legs almost kick out at the wonderful sting, both of pleasure and from the shock at the audacity of your inexperienced lover to tug brazenly at your tits like this, until they draw tight and it hurts and they pinch free.
A ragged sound leaves you, your elbows coming up towards your face, squeezing the pillow around your head until your nipples are released abruptly, your back giving out from the arch you’d raised into. “Kiyo…” You already sound debauched, thrusting as best as you can against the weight of his stomach between your thighs, firm clit coming so close to rubbing against the strong plane you know is still hiding behind his rumpled black dress shirt. “I--More? I need--”
Kiyoomi groans, leaning down to messily drag his tongue around your hard nipple. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp, mouth falling open at the sudden stimulation.
He leaves careful kisses across your pebbled skin, lapping and slurping and dragging his teeth across your breast. He turns his head to give the other just as much attention, warm fingers digging into aching flesh to massage and pinch at you slowly.
He engulfs one of your breasts as much as his mouth can take, until it almost feels like too much for you. Your shoulders hunch forward with the intensity despite the fact he’s suckling languidly and dragging his tongue in slow, agonizing, mindless patterns over your aching nipples, the only way you can react with him pinning you down as he is. Your legs do kick out and scrunch back in now, but not to any meaningful effect with his body between your thighs. Your hands hurt from how tightly you dig them into the fabric of your pillow under your head, your whole body winding up beneath Kiyoomi’s warm, suckling kisses and the singing of the nerves in your breasts responding to his caressing tongue and cradling hands.
His mouth and chin are slick with his own spit as he pulls away to nip at the bottom of your breast, pushing them both together with a rasping groan, and his sloppy sucks rip a shaky sound from your lungs, body going boneless beneath him. More sounds crack from your throat, tears springing to your eyes at the vibrating, agonizing need he instills in you with just his kisses and his hands.
Who would have thought that just a month ago he’d been so timid, so unsure but wanting? If anyone were to peer in on this moment between you, to find you writhing beneath a beautiful man as he scrunches the fabric of your dress in his fists and drags it down your body, they would never know just how much he’s learned about you and the things you like since your relationship grew into what it is now. Learning how to please you, how to please himself with you, how to let you please him, all in ways he’s only grown more confident in, and more eager to experience with you.
He’s been absolutely insatiable, and you’re not going to stymie his needs in any way.
“O-Oh god,” you whisper, lifting your head to watch in wonder as Kiyoomi drags and swirls his tongue all over your breasts, a flush high in his cheeks, his soft lips catching eagerly on your skin. He sucks and pulls away, dragging blood to the surface until it hurts and warms, and then he does it again. His hands are careful in the way they cup you, thumbs slipping in his own spit and nails dragging down your sensitive sides--normally ticklish, but almost unbearably achy in the pleasure it provides in this moment. “Oh my god, Kiyo…”
The nickname makes him hum, practically growl, vibrating mouth full of your tit, long lashes fluttering open to glance up at you with dark eyes. Your mouth is dropped open with heavy breaths, his eyes locked with yours while he slowly swirls his tongue around your swollen nipple, watching him disconnect, wet and lurid, from your skin. He swallows, and you whimper for no reason except that he’s stunningly gorgeous--unhinged and needy and wanting and exuding the kind of dominance he holds over everything else in his life as he gazes back at you, dragging his tongue around your nipple again and again.
You know how much he likes it when you call him Kiyo. You’re the only one that does it, the only one that gets to. You can’t help the way your lips curl in amusement at the memory of Atsumu giving Kiyoomi a smug little look the first time he heard it, the blonde asking with a playful pout, What, don’t like the nickname Omiomi anymore? I’m hurt.
Kiyoomi, quick as a whip, deadpanned back, I never liked the nickname, ‘Tsumu. The little smirk on his face gave away his sarcasm, making the blonde cackle and toss an arm around his shoulders.
Can I call you that then? You got a thumb and a smirk tossed your way, a set of chocolate eyes and a set of coal black focused on you.
“What?” Kiyoomi breaths against you, a hint of a smile pulling at his own lips, bringing you back into the moment with him. His brows arch, gazing up at you while kissing slowly from one breast to the other, across your sternum, from nipple to nipple. You wiggle in response, watching him hungrily.
You shake your head, your words feeling clumsy and like cotton in your mouth while you try not to let your eyes roll into the back of your head. “J-Just...Just like calling you that,” you whisper. “Kiyo…” You say it just to say it, pressing your body up against him with a moan, the fat of your tit plumping up against his pink cheeks from the motion.
His sound of appreciation vibrates through the tender skin of your breast, and you can’t help it anymore. Your eyes roll up and your head drops back, uneven breaths getting the better of you, all under his watchful eye.
“I like it, too,” he confesses, his breath cooling his spit over your ignited nerves. Even though you already knew that, even though you can read him like an open book now, it still feels fucking good to hear. It swells a little balloon of pride alongside your desire, gives you something only for you, like everything about this is. You preen with the knowledge that you’re the only one that gets to see Kiyoomi in this state, you get to mold him and teach him and learn with him in ways that are new and otherworldly in many ways to the hesitant, careful, perceptive man lavishing and indulging in your body.
He shifts up onto his knees, curling his fingers with the delicate straps of your dress. “Arms down,” he whispers. They feel like lead when you move them from under the pillow. He slinks your dress further down, pulling it over your hips, bringing your panties out from under you with it.
“Can I touch you now?” You ask, a pleading edge to your voice you hope will sway him. Instead, you’re left groaning at the smirk curling his lips, the soft shake of his head while he strips you entirely of your clothing.
He hums in amused approval when you shove your hands back under the pillow, tossing your tiny dress and drenched panties off the edge of the edge of the bed.
“You’re getting too cocky,” you croak, watching him lean down to kiss your sternum, eager hands stroking down your sides, over the curves of your hips.
He laughs softly against your hip, opening his mouth to suck a stinging kiss just beneath it with a pleased groan. You gasp and squirm, nails dragging almost painfully along the underside of the pillow as you try not to grip his gorgeous, silky hair.
Kiyoomi glances up at you from under long lashes, his cheeks pink and his lips swollen. His soft cheek rests just above your pussy on your thigh, his arms and weight pinning your legs down beneath him.
He swallows and licks his lips, eyes locked on you. “You’re gonna cum on my face, okay?” His lips curl in soft delight when you nod eagerly.
You expect him to shift your legs over his shoulders, but when he instead pushes your knees out and pins your thighs to the bed beneath his forearms, you realize he really has no intention of letting you have any sort of control tonight. It makes the room spin around you, your head clouding over as you watch him tilt his head down, beautiful curls falling across his face, his pretty nose dragging slowly across your mons.
Kiyoomi’s broad back expands with a deep inhale, and he moans; ragged and hungry, hot breath rolling across your folds. Your hips quake, unable to do anything when you feel his tongue dip out over the top of your slit, curling against your clit to drag slowly back up. His lips mold to your mound, not unlike the way he’d sucked on your tits, taking as much of the sensitive flesh into his mouth as he can before lifting his head slowly, dragging your clit and the top of your folds with him til they pop free with a feeling so intense you can’t help the weak shout that escapes you.
“K-Kiyoomi, holy fuck,” you whimper, elbows digging into the bedding so you can watch. Your chest heaves with your quick breaths, toes curling and thighs flexing. But it’s to no avail. He’s stronger than you, keeps your legs pinned out of the way for his own pleasure between them, and the mixture of desperation, wonder, and euphoria has you feeling like you might pass out.
He groans back, muffled by the act of repeating the glorious motions from before. You squeak, a tiny sound compared to the way his warm, vibrating mouth lights up your clit and makes the whole room fucking tremble. He sighs when your lips pull free again with a wet suck, his hot breath rolling down the drenched apex of your groin and all over your warm labia.
He does it again, and your insides clench til you hiccup, eyes burning with the sting of pleasured tears, hips almost vibrating beneath him. You’re sure he must feel the heat of your rising need with his chin tucked against your pussy, and he explores with his tongue. Instead of pulling off with another slurp, he sinks back against you, tongue splitting down through your labia to taste all that’s gathered there. He drags it back up from the bottom of your pussy all the way to your clit, swallowing loudly before his tongue is swirling around your clit with strong purpose.
You’re panting and squirming beneath him, hips rocking side to side, legs trembling in their attempts to shut, fingers all twisted in any bit of loose fabric of the bedding you can grip. But he doesn’t let your legs clamp around his cheeks. Kiyoomi keeps you spread and easily accessible, lashes lowered to undoubtedly watch the way your cunt twitches and flexes with the need to be filled every time he pulls away, watching the way his spit and your slick make you glisten for him, your folds puffy and achy for more. To give your pussy the attention it needs, dragging his tongue in slow, thorough swirls over your clit, a hand crawling up the inside of your thigh to push through into that tight, warm, wet little space just under his chin.
His fingers are long. Long and dexterous, and he presses two up with an angled purpose, with knowledge he has been determined to not only memorize but imprint into his fingertips, use without thought, with instinct. And the same is said for the way his tongue swirls and his lips suck at your clit in tandem.
You jerk, yanking at the pillow under your head. “K-Kiyoomi, fuck.” He moans back against you, your eyes rolling back towards the ceiling.
Kiyoomi has learned a lot. A lot. In the past month or so that you’ve been fucking. Not only did he have intimate knowledge of what you like and dislike before your sexual relationship began, as couples should have of each other, he’s weaponized it against you all for your benefit. And it might honestly be one of your favorite things he’s been absolutely drooling to get good at.
He eats you out like he wants to be glued to your cunt for eternity. Like he wants to eat, drink, breathe your pussy and your pleasure til the end of time. It certainly feels that way, where you’re whimpering and rolling your shoulders, crying out into the silence of your room with your arms tossed over your eyes.
And he likes it. Your hips tremble, as do your lungs, and you’re suddenly reminded of the fact he’s cum while eating you out in the past. Anyone who knows him would most certainly be surprised by this, thinking he might be inclined to shy away from the messier aspects of sex, and you laugh drunkenly as the thought flits through your mind while feeling his fingers drag your slick out, watching him lap it up and bury his face against your spread folds in a half-hormone drunk stupor, his eyes closed in reverence and pleasure of his own.
Your whole body twitches with the first too-much touch deep against that swollen spot inside you, the first overwhelming suck and swirl on your clit. Sharp eyes cut up towards you, framed by flushed cheeks and mussed curls, smooth and warm against the slippery slick folds of your pussy and the plush skin on either side.
You do your best to hold his gaze, your eyes almost rolling back in your head with another tumultuous jolt of your pelvic floor muscles. “K-Kiyoomi, I-I’m--”
His fingers become relentless, the pace smooth but the precision intense. You gasp and jolt again, fingers snagging in the sheets, mouth dropping open, thighs quivering against the width of his shoulders until the coiling, tight heat in your belly snaps, and you’re crying out and rocking your hips back and forth, hiccuping and mewling, your pussy throbbing around his digits. The sound becomes all the wetter, a warm sigh breathed across your skin while he suckles hard on your clit, hard enough to knock your head back, eyes clenching tight.
You’re vaguely aware of how broken and weak your moans sound, but the rush in your head while you cum is a little too loud and delightful for you to really care about how stupid you might sound. Your thighs struggle to close, Kiyoomi shifting on purpose to keep them spread, his fingers withdrawing to rub softly through the swollen petals of your pussy.
You let your hands drag over your scrunched face, letting out a tortured sound as the wet suction of his mouth eases wetly from your clit, lets his tongue loll out to swirl slowly through your folds. He hums as he takes another mouthful, slurping you up and everything you’ve given him, so gently but it feels like sparks through your body, making you quake against the sheets.
Quickly, you uncover your eyes to watch him pull back ever so slightly from your pussy. A long, glittery strand of slick connects his chin to you, and your hips buck upwards at the sight. His eyes are focused down between your legs, his fingers still petting over you. He drags them up softly, catching on your clit, making you jerk, and brings them up towards his mouth. He breaks the strand, brings your slick to his shining lips. His wet cheeks hollow in as he drags them slowly out.
“K-Kiyo,” you plead, grasping onto the pillow beneath you. He blinks up at you, eyes heavy with desire. His fingers leave his lips with a sucking sound, the bed dipping as he moves up onto his hands and knees, dropping kisses over your tummy.
“God, please, let me touch you,” you beg, whispery and choked off, still trembling from your orgasm, giving him wide, desperate eyes from where he’s crawled back above you. He just leans down to kiss you, and when you move your hands to grasp at him, he’s snagging your wrists, pushing them back down. You whine, turning your head away to gasp, brows furrowed and feeling as if you might cry from being denied the pleasure of touching him. “Kiyoomi! Please!”
“I told you to behave,” he purrs against your cheek, lips wet, the smell of your sex permeating your senses and making your whole body arch up into him, trying to reconnect a kiss that he, once again, denies you. Inches from your face, no longer cloudy from the high he’d sucked out of you, you get to look at him and mourn his hands on your wrists.
He’s flushed to his chest, face shining from his nose to his chin, and eyes drowsy with heated desire. Your lungs still leak with little whimpers for him, hips still quake, still rock with the echoes of your orgasm where you lay trapped beneath him on the bed. His hands are warm and dewy on your skin from playing in your shared slick and spit, the bed creaking under you both as he squeezes your hips and uses the strength in his big, well-trained body, to slowly roll you over.
“I want you like this,” he breathes, warm hands exploring the arching plane of your back. You groan and stretch out under his touch, spreading your legs to press your knees into the bed around his where he kneels, and Kiyoomi’s long fingers curl around your hips, helping to pull you up on your shaky limbs, pulling your ass back until the soft, high quality fabric of his dress pants are rubbing against your damp thighs. The hard curve of his cock presses against your swollen pussy, the warm plane of his stomach against your ass, and you groan, sinking down onto your elbows.
His hands massage across your ass, squishing and gripping the fat as he rocks you against him. You simply rock at his pace, still a little fucked out from him making you cum, your head dropping down against the sheets. His fingers curl and drag restlessly where his hands hold you, and he’s panting, molding his fingers between your shoulder blades, pressing your chest deeper into the bed.
He pauses in his grinding, and you make a dissatisfied noise, wagging your ass back and forth against the hard press of his cock, against the cooling slick that’s caught on the fabric of his slacks and soaked through. Kiyoomi groans, lands a heavy slap against the fat of your cheek, one that stings and makes you gasp, dancing his fingers over the pain left behind. “D-Do you like this?”
You nod quickly, shifting further up on your knees, pushing your limp upper body back with your arms to arch like some kind of animal, trying to get your ass as high in the air as you can for him. His hips follow quickly, his breath growly and needy, the hands on your body squeezing tightly.
“Fuck,” he spits quietly, leaning over you to smatter kisses down your spine, hands dragging over your skin, gripping your waist to help pull your hips closer.
“Kiyo,” you sigh, tilting your head back until it meets his shoulder. His kisses smear over your cheek, hot breaths panting against your skin, his hand tracing down your stomach to feel the wet, messy drip of your pussy. His fingers flick across your clit, making you squirm beneath him, feeling as if you might fall apart too quickly, now, balanced precariously on your knees with whatever little bit of sanity you had left. He fumbles for only a second before he finds his pace, using your slick to make the rub of your overstimulated nerves easier.
You can’t help the way you cry and shake, resting all of your weight on your chest to reach down and grasp at his wrist. He knows by now it’s not to stop him--you’re simply overwhelmed, needing to grab onto something, anything to ground yourself through the pleasure. To be connected to him in some way.
“What do you want?” He demands, low and shaky in your ear.
It takes you a second to gather yourself enough to speak a coherent sentence, barely able to even open your eyes. “W-Want you to f-fuck me,” you gasp, rolling your quaking hips back against the soft slacks and all it hides beneath. “Want you to fuck me however you n-need it, Kiyoomi, please.” He sucks a bite against your neck that makes you hiss and stiffen, the sting tingling into a lulling pleasure beneath the growl that escapes him at your admission.
You don’t quite realize what he’s doing until you feel the cool rush of losing his body heat. You make a questioning sound, half-blind and entirely at his mercy with the rush of your orgasm from before, only to choke on it when his big hands spread your cheeks and his tongue is dragging through your folds.
You squeak, hips jumping in both surprise and toe-curling delight, gasping and pushing back on his face. You burn with a mixture of need and embarrassment when his tongue drags sloppy along your clit, through your dripping folds, up over your asshole. Your thighs quake at the attention he gives you that doesn’t last much longer than a second, yet feels burned into you for so much longer than that. You hear the lewd sound of him sucking spit and slick back into his mouth, the jingle of his belt before he pulls away from you, your hands dislodging from where they’d been wound into the sheets when he grabs you in a strong grip and pulls you down the bed until his cock is pinned between his belly and your ass.
The first swipe of the head of his cock through your folds is clumsy, a little too eager. He curses softly, pressing down on your neck when you shift to try and help him line up.
Your quiet l-let me is choked upon when the fat head finds your flexing entrance. You gasp, the hand that had been reaching between your legs for him flopping to twist in the sheets between your knees.
Kiyoomi groans as he sinks carefully up inside you. The hand squeezing your waist drags down to pull your cheeks apart. You arch your back further, pushing back on his cock. It feels like it sinks into you forever. Long and thick and warm, curved upwards ever so sweetly to glide past that spot inside you that never fails to make your whole body twitch. It feels bigger at this angle, you think with a dizzy spin of the room beneath you, your pussy clenching hard on him the deeper he goes.
"O-Oh fuck," he grunts, leaning the weight of his hips against your ass, his fingers groping just a little too hard at your hip and pushing down, forcing your ass to squish against his front. At this point you don’t care if he leaves bruises, if you ache after. It almost hurts how deep Kiyoomi reaches, but it’s the good kind of hurt. The hurt that warms and fizzles into something that stings better. You relish it with a pleased hiss between your teeth, back curling and relaxing, your toes and fingers doing the same.
“You’re okay?” He asks, voice low, a trembling undercurrent to it that sounds how you feel. Your reply is high pitched and needy, barely words, nodding into the blankets, mumbling something affirming. The poor man behind you grunts again when your pussy flexes again, bears down on him eagerly, your nerves and body too ready for what's to come.
You almost squeal his name when he draws his hips back, dragging his cock out of you. Your pussy squeezes down so tight on him, trying to keep him inside, that each inch you lose makes it clench again and again, making the man behind you grunt. You gasp and whimper and try to push your ass back because it feels like he’s forcing his cock out.
His fingers dig bruises into your hips, and he groans when he rolls his hips forward just as slowly. Your pussy squelches wet and messy when he pushes back in. He bumps against your ass, the head of his cock pushing on something just a little too deep within you that’s warm and pleasantly achy, pushing you forward on your knees and face. You feel his cock thicken within you, twitching against the needy hug of your body, the desperate clasp in an attempt to keep him plugged up within you.
“God,” Kiyoomi hisses, massaging your waist, starting a steady pace with another slow withdrawal, balls softly tapping your clit. You jolt, try to take a full breath, the side of your face pushed into the sheets, working your hips back to meet his with encouraging pulls of his big, warm hands. “H-How...How do you feel so fucking good? Every t-time?”
A whimper leaves you, his hissed praise dripping through your rocking body and down the forward tilt of your back. “K-Kiyo, you’re so b-big,” you mumble, eyes shut in bliss.
Kiyoomi’s hips jolt forward, and you gasp, a whiny curse slipping free as he starts to fuck into you. His pace isn’t fast, but the force of his hips is, making your body clap against his, making your ass and tits bounce and jiggle each time. He groans, his hands appreciating and caressing the bounce of your ass and thighs, dragging his fingers over the swells of your hips and down the arch of your back.
He growls wordlessly, leaning down over you, pressing his hands into the bedding around your head. His head dips towards you, kissing over your downed shoulders, teeth nipping at your skin. His breath fans hot over your neck, lips gliding over the sensitive spots that make you quiver. “S’it feel good? The way I--” He takes a ragged breath, rolling his hips into yours. “The way I f-fuck you?”
“Yes!” You whine, grasping his wrists by your head, trying to rock your hips back to meet his. The pace inevitably speeds up, and he groans again, and you gasp when he suddenly pulls out, pulling his hands free, pushing you forward when you try to chase his cock by clamoring back on your hands and knees after him, turning your head to give him a confused, needy glance over your shoulder.
He’s flushed and fucked out, lids heavy and lips parted. You hiccup his name, finding him suddenly leaning forward to kiss you sloppily, feeling his wet cock drag down between your cheeks again, his shaky hands rubbing all over your tits and stomach to pull your back against this chest.
“I-I’m sorry, I was so close, I just--” He gulps, silencing himself as he guides himself back inside you. He slides quickly and easily back into place with how fucked open and wet you are, body ready and eager for him, spread and stretched and drenched to be fit exactly for him. Your toes curl as his cock pushes deep again, leaning forward on your hands with a sigh, your mouth dropped open to moan, his hand coming around to hitch you closer by your belly, pressing down on the thick feeling of him up inside you. He rocks forward, pushing you forward until you’re once again presented before him, his strong grasp keeping you in place.
You tremble on your hands and knees, elbows quaking with your effort to stay aloft. Kiyoomi continues to thrust and swirl his hips once more, gripping so tight to your waist to tug you back against him as he pleases he’ll surely leave bruises. You’re both groaning and gasping, the soft slap of your ass meeting his hips making your insides curl and ache, the feeling of his balls smacking your clit leaving you breathless with every connection.
You’re vaguely aware, over the sounds of your weak whimpers and long, needy moans, that he’s whispering under his breath, panting and growling softly.
“...couldn't stop staring, wanted to pull your dress up and f-fuck you in front of all of them.”
You have a physical reaction to his words, cunt clutching tight and your hips thrusting back on him. You both gasp, his pace stuttering. He curses roughly, repositioning his knees, and the pace he takes next is a little faster, a little rougher, makes your tits jiggle where they hang towards the bed, makes your jaw drop. He’s pulling you back against him now and your shoulders give out, forehead pressing into the bed with a gasp.
“You…” You can hear him gulp on his next words. “You want me to fuck you in--in front of them? In front of the team? Sh-Show them you’re mine? Y-Yeah?” His hand suddenly slides forward, taking a groping, slow handful of one of your swaying breasts, making you keen. They’re still so sensitive after all the attention he gave them. He uses it like a handhold to help pull you back into his thrusts, and it aches in the best ways.
“Yes!” You cry for him, leaning your sweating forehead against your forearm, grasping his groping hand with your own. But his hand is so much bigger than yours, all you can do is hold his wrist while he squeezes his fingers over your breast, until they slide together and capture your nipple between thumb and forefinger, until he pulls on it, making you cry.
Kiyoomi groans, and you can feel his cock throb and thicken inside you. He pushes you forward until you’re pinned flat under his weight, his parted mouth panting and growling loud in your ear as he bounces his hips down into your ass. His thrusts are loud and clapping, your whimpers muffled into the sheets. One of your knees gets knocked upwards, opening your folds up to let your clit get slapped over and over by his balls. It’s aggressive and quick and hard and everything you need to drive you towards your end.
“K-Kiyoomi!” You gasp, brow crumpling, his body and panting and hold upon you, the pleasure he gives you, all you know in this short, intense moment that feels like it stretches on for hours.
“C-Cum, cum for me,” he breathes, scratchy and growly against your cheek, hands sliding forward to grapple your hands down against the sheets, weaving his fingers with yours and squeezing them tight. “Only me.”
You’re more than eager to give in, arching your back as much as you can, whining long and wordless for him as the hot rush of warmth over your skin and the fluttering pull of your pussy spiraling you out into a pleasant white flash behind your eyes. Kiyoomi groans and trembles on top of you, smearing messy kisses over your cheek and neck, mumbling praise against your jaw and shoulder, his hips slowing but the heaviness, the strength behind the way he fucks you through it rising.
It doesn’t take long for him to follow after you. His cock flexes, feels as if it grows with each greedy coax of your twitching cunt, until he pauses, another breathier croon leaving him as he spills hot inside you. His chest presses into your back, mouth suckling against the nape of your neck, dragging his nails gently down one of your arms to grasp one of your soft breasts until you whimper, his fingers soft but reverent over your hard nipple, against the give of fat and how he uses it to hug you closer.
That hand eventually slides beneath your chest, curling his arm around you in some attempt to hug you closer, his face buried in your hair as you both catch your breath. His cock is still inside you, warmed and firm, and you can’t help how you arch and clench with the remnants of your tingling pleasure. Kiyoomi grunts, pushing his hips against your ass in a gentle thrust.
The calm after the storm is pleasant and sleepy. You lie for a long time, or so it feels, with his bigger body blanketing you, finger stroking over your arm, tangled fingers loose but weaved together still above your head.
You laugh suddenly, a breathy sound with his weight on your back. “Fuck me in front of the team, huh?” You breathe, lips curling in a smile when you hear Kiyoomi groan softly against your temple.
He rolls off of you, arm trapped under your head keeping him from getting away, and you start laughing harder when you turn to glance at him beside you. His hand covers his eyes, face tilted away, but you can see the curl of his lips, the plumping of his cheeks. His chest bounces softly while you wiggle closer, his arm following to encourage you cuddling up against him. “Didn’t know that was something you thought about.”
He sighs, dropping his arm, slowly turning his head to glance at you. There’s a soft nervousness in his eyes. He chews on his bottom lip while he looks you over.
“Did that make you uncomfortable?” He whispers, vulnerability in his tone, his heart thudding in his chest under your hand. “I don’t...I don’t actually want to--”
You grin and pet across his pectorals. “I know. And it was hot, don’t worry.”
His brow arches. “Y-Yeah?”
You nod, pressing a kiss to the bicep pillowing your head. “Yeah. It was fun, and I kind of like the idea of you staking a claim like that.” You roll your eyes, trying to keep your own bashfulness aside. “Dirty talk doesn’t mean we’re going to do it. It’s just...fun fantasy, y’know?”
He nods, curling his arm to pull you closer. You share a kiss, sighing happily with the press of your body against his.
Kiyoomi kisses your forehead. “You just looked so pretty tonight,” he breathes, another kiss to your skin following. “I could see them looking at you. I was looking at you. You’re irresistible.”
He suddenly rolls over, his dark eyes flashing towards you, and you giggle when he presses you down against the bed to kiss you passionately. You preen with the feeling of his cock half hard again, dripping and pressed to your thigh.
Kiyoomi kisses you dumb, only pulling away once you’re pliant and drowsy beneath him. He gives you a gentle look, slowly petting hair away from your forehead and cheeks, looking you over without shame, with a fondness so warm it makes your toes curl in the same way his body had.
A big hand cups your cheek, and he kisses you firmly once more before he pulls away to stand. You roll after him, but stop belly down on the warm spot he left behind, spreading out for the first time across the mattress with a delighted sigh, your body sinking against the ergonomic bed Kiyoomi bought you for your birthday. You take a second to appreciate it with your eyes closed.
Needless to say, as excessive as you’d felt it had been at the time, you’re very glad now that he’d pouted his way into you letting it into the apartment upon delivery.
The sound of running water and the soft glow behind your eyelids has you opening them slowly. You watch from your spot amongst the pillows as Kiyoomi strips himself of the rest of his clothing. His shoulders roll back with a sigh, whatever invisible weight that had held him down during a night of social interaction he didn’t really want and his dizzying lust finally completely lifted after losing himself in you.
The light of the open bathroom door spills into the bedroom, and he looks otherworldly where he stands; curly hair mussed from your hands and his effort, his tall, broad form exquisite under the soft hug of the light around his ribs and his hips before it drowns in shadow. You trace each mole you can see from his thighs up to his face, your heart skipping a beat as you gaze upon his beauty. His long lashes lowered to where he unlatches his watch from his wrist, placing it carefully upon his nightstand, moving with near silent and careful grace. Like he could be some kind of mirage of deep sleep, only visible by moonlight, who only blesses your dreams with his presence.
Dark eyes swing your way and steal your breath, catching your sleepy gaze half buried in the pillows. He hums low in question, though you can’t say anything back with the way your heart pounds against the mattress, simply watching him shift to kneel on the bed like some kind of seductive vision, reaching for you and smoothing his warm hand across the dip of your spine.
He leans down, hair tickling your cheek, and kisses you softly. “Come with me,” he whispers, huffing in amusement when you whine softly in disagreement. His fingers dance over your skin, and you stretch like a cat awakened from a long sleep, his touch never wavering in it’s softness and reverence even while you roll over to show your belly. His palm spans wide over your diaphragm, traces low and lower until his fingers are dipping through the wetness of your pleasure together, watching you shiver and bite your lip. His smirk is satisfied, proud, affectionate. “Come. Let’s clean up, okay?”
You groan at his insistence but let him pull you up and after him, his hands strong and steady, his gaze soft and assured. You follow after him when he stands, and there’s a languid pause in motion where you press in close against his bare body and wrap him up to the best of your ability, his arms twining around you in turn, all your skin and feelings and breaths felt and heard and touched in kind.
He grips your jaw, helps tilt your head up for the kiss you seek. It’s not a demanding hold, it’s not a controlling hold. His grasp is welcoming and grounding, wanting and connecting in the way it makes you feel like he needs you just as close as you need him, contradicting his own fears and anxieties to make a place that, just for a moment, has no room for them. Just room for the two of you.
He drags forth words he couldn’t possibly have known you’ve been drowning in when he pulls back.
“Kiyoomi, I love you.”
You almost laugh. It doesn’t feel like enough. The words are true, but it doesn’t feel like they really encapsulate what you mean; how you feel so lucky to have caught his eye, that you gave him a chance despite his general abrasiveness and inexperience, how he’s appreciated your effort for him so much that he’s stripped himself down in similar ways to wonder at and examine things about himself he’d never considered before, in order to be better for not just you, but for himself, too. That you’ve enjoyed watching him brighten and loosen, to stand taller than before; not so stiff with anxiety and fear anymore, but with an easiness that you now know he takes with him even when he’s not with you, that you hope he keeps even if this all falls apart.
Your eyes blink open, feeling hot and wet. Where your hands sit on his back, you feel his heart begin to thud, fingers on your left hand brushing back and forth over one of the many beautiful moles that smatter his pale frame. His pretty eyes are wide, strong arms tightening your embrace. It almost pulls you up off your toes how close he holds you.
Those dark eyes jump all over your face, as if he’s surprised by your confession. And it melts away into a soft, almost shy smile. Toothy and elated and it makes you laugh with watery joy.
Kiyoomi gently strokes your tears away from your hot cheeks. “I love you, too.” It’s a low quiver of words, shaking with the quick, heavy beat of his heart against your chest, that makes his touch tremble just a little bit against you.
“Thank you,” you whisper against his kiss. It’s his turn to laugh, barely a breath that’s warm and drips down your chin, over your nose when he kisses the bridge of it, the wet apples of your cheeks.
“Come on,” he whispers, as if...as if your shared confessions of love are as every day as the sun and the moon, and you smile back at him, because it is It should be. “Let me take care of you.”
He doesn’t let you pull away enough to walk normally, leaving you to giggle as your wobbly legs struggle to step around his bigger feet, your laughter breaking out louder when you accidentally step on his toes and he hisses, his own grin wide and toothy. You both stumble into the cool bathroom, laughing bright and whispering your love to each other again and again over the sound of the filling bath--giddily, confidently, delightfully.
Stripped down together, to nothing but your emotions and your skin, the tenderness with which Kiyoomi has allowed you to see and know parts of him, that he has allowed you to handle and hold of him, to hold you in kind, feels like almost too much. Like you’ve both been rubbed raw until each touch is electric and achy, and curiously wondering.
All you can do is cling to each other, in all that you are and that you’ve given, in the soft silence of the warm bath water he drew for you both. With sleepy eyes, you watch the way goosebumps rise across his skin, chasing after the delicate fingertip that traces from one beauty mark to the other--down his arched neck, towards his shoulder, across the strong arm draped languidly over the edge of the tub, long fingers just breaking the silvery surface of the water. They rise up, dripping, to meet your hand at the end of your voyage, fingers weaving together slowly.
Kiyoomi shivers, his arm under the water tightening around your waist. His chin nudges your forehead, murmuring something about being sensitive and how it’s all your fault. You give a whispery laugh, his heart never having been louder beneath your ear.
789 notes · View notes
Your writings? Chefs kiss. Immaculate. Brain on immediate brrrr mode.
Okay, so what about this. The reader has been meaning to try out this new toy that Dream bought, but he's always been busy so they decide to use it on themselves. He catches them and tells them to keep going so he could watch, but when they finally get close to their climax, he leans over and flips a switch or pulls out a remote they didn't see and it starts vibrating.
I mean, possibly? 👀
....I like the way you think friend >:) I’m not gonna lie, I actually did research for this, don’t judge me please. Enjoy~!
You stared at the toy in your hand and then back to the door to yours and Dream’s bedroom. Your lovely boyfriend had bought you this toy some time ago, but between his streams, running his server, and the many collabs he lined up, there hadn’t been much time for the two of you. You sighed heavily hearing Dream scream in the other room; guess you were on your own.
You had already pulled your shorts and underwear off, letting your mind drift to all the different things you wanted to do with Dream once you finally got him alone. Your fingers danced across your sex, pulling soft pleasured noises from your throat. You pulled the lube from the bedside table, coating two of your fingers before teasing one inside.
You let out a louder whine, fantasies playing out in your head until you were worked up enough to add your second digit. Your daydream was edging closer to realistic than you imagined, because you felt yourself close to cumming before you knew it. You pulled your fingers free to spread lube along the toy Dream had bought for you before starting to let it slip inside.
It was a little thicker than your boyfriend, filling you more than you had initially imagined. You were so wrapped up in getting the toy as far as it could go, you didn’t even hear Dream peek in on you. He smirked, leaning against the door frame as he watched you start slowly pumping the toy in and out of yourself.
“Looks like you’re having fun,” he mumbles. The sound startles you, gaze ripped from where you had been watching to meet his darkening eyes. “And all without me. What a shame baby.”
You whine, thinking you’re going to get punished, but Dream doesn’t move from his spot. “Am I in trouble?” you ask meekly, starting to pull the toy from your eager hole.
“You will be if you don’t keep going,” he says, voice laced with lust and sternness. You moan at his words, pushing the thing back into yourself as you start fucking yourself with earnest. Dark green eyes watch you the entire time, sometimes directing you on how to touch yourself while the toy did it’s job.
It’s only when he notices the telltale signs of you getting close does he reach into his hoodie pocket. A soft click can be heard before the toy in your hole starts to vibrate, sending your pleasure skyrocketing. You’re cumming before you can stop yourself, hips and back arching off the bed.
As you fall back to the mattress, the vibrations stop, your harsh panting the only noise filling the room. With your eyes closed, you don’t notice Dream approach you and press a kiss to your head. “Next time? Let me know you need me. I’ll make time for you.”
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picture perfect (h.o.)
Masterlist | Buy me a ko-fi?
summary: Bored and lonely while filming out town, Harrison starts sexting with a mysterious girl he met on social media. As their relationship grows, will they grow along as they go?
word count: 11.2k (!)
warnings: shameless flirting, mutual pining, fluff, idiots to lovers, dumb pop culture references, cameo from our gang, smut!, dirty talk, sexting, phone sex, light d/s dynamics, oral, spit play, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, all the good stuff
notes: FINALLY! it's been a long time coming, and big ups to @tommysparker for being so patient and providing bomb-ass second opinions. i hope you enjoy it! happy reading!
Snap, snap, snap.
The clicks of the camera are drowning in Purple Rain droning on the vinyl. In her black bustier top and blue lace thong, she strikes suggestive poses in her bed, the lavender beddings and warm string lights a soft background to an otherwise striking focus. She arches her back and angles her torso just right, sitting on her knees with her thighs spread. Bit by bit, she pushes the straps off of her shoulders and fondles her breasts, yanking down her bra until they spill out. Selfie button in hand, putting on a show for no one.
It’s Y/N’s new favorite pastime, taking smoking hot pictures of herself to put up on her naughty little blog. Completely anonymous, of course, with her face always conveniently cropped out. It started out as a self love project, an appreciation for her curvy form. But as time went on, her posts began to gain more traction, and honestly, who is she to deny free compliments and ego boost from complete strangers?
The likes and the comments start filing in, from the harmless ones like 'goddess! beautiful!' to the more aggressive ones describing what they want to do to her in graphic detail. One comment in particular catches her eye.
blue--moon commented: pardon my french, but WOW 😳
It's definitely someone new. She gets a like, comment, and a follow in that exact order. Naturally, she pulls up the profile to see what this person's about.
He/him. 24. Just looking.
His display picture is a pair of hands. Strong, veiny, beautiful hands with a metal ring on his middle finger holding the phone up for a selfie. And with a cropped selfie of lean, muscular, eight-pack abs (and yes, she counted), captioned ‘im hungry and dehydrated af in this pic but the things we do for validation amirite’, Y/N couldn’t resist shooting him a DM.
She's bored and lonely and a little shameless flirting with some random self-aware hottie sounds like fun.
Little does she know, the boy on the other end is just as bored and lonely and jerking off to some pretty girl’s tasteful nudes sounds like a nice way to end the evening. Purplish red lips caught between her teeth, tits bursting out of bra, wet patch visible on her practically sheer panties… how could he resist?
Harrison was just about to sneak his hand down his sweatpants when a DM notification pops up on top of his screen.
violetformyfurs: that’s a pretty proper comment for such an improper pic
He nearly drops his phone onto his face. He’d grown very familiar with that username in the last 5 minutes-- or rather what that username presented as her online persona. Witty, alluring, a little mischievous. It’s easy to let his imaginations run wild, but when she’s actually there to talk to, Harrison’s not quite sure what to do.
blue--moon: was that too prudish? i didn’t wanna be rude 🙈
Y/N smiles at his reply, his earnestness somewhat refreshing although she can't help wonder how genuine he is. There's plenty of fake nice guys online, after all. So she settles against her headboard and braces herself to test the waters.
violetformyfurs: I think it's cute. I like a good boy every now and then :)
Harrison's heart skips a beat. He's never really been called that before --never even thought about whether he likes it. But there's something about this girl that captures his curiosity...
blue--moon: oh? what makes you think im a good boy?
violetformyfurs: Idk just a guess lol
violetformyfurs: Could be wrong tho. You could be a bad boy, for all I know...
Harrison is freaking the fuck out. He's pretty new to this side of social media and he's never sexted with anyone on here. A part of him wants to go the suave route and be super charming, but he's not sure he can pull it off. What if he makes a complete fool of himself? In his panic, he goes for the more evasive response. Maybe a little emoji to make him sound less aloof.
blue--moon: and what if I am? 😈
violetformyfurs: Then you would be a different kind of fun, that’s all.
No hesitation, no pause. She replies within mere seconds of his message being sent. With that, his cock stirs awake faster than his brain can muster a vivid image of this girl claiming him as her dirty plaything. Toying with his release as she teases his cock in her mouth, between her tits, in her pussy…
blue--moon: i mean, pardon my french but
blue--moon: that does sound like fun
The devilish smirk on Y/N’s face grows wider. She loves sending boys into a flustered, incoherent mess. She can’t quite picture a face, but she can definitely imagine the quickening of his heartbeat, the red flush on his chest, the rising heat under his skin… it makes her quite hot and bothered.
violetformyfurs: What are you up to now?
It’s the oldest line in the art of sexting, and she is almost disappointed in herself for pulling such a fuckboyish move.
(Almost. She's still trying to read this guy, and she's not about to bring out the big guns for nothing.)
blue--moon: do you want the savoury or unsavoury answer?
violetformyfurs: Try me.
blue--moon: im looking at your pics
blue--moon: which are
blue--moon: wow, as I said so eloquently in french 😜
violetformyfurs: Lol thank you
violetformyfurs: I take it that's the savoury answer?
violetformyfurs: So what’s the unsavoury answer?
Harrison pauses. He thinks long and hard, before he ultimately decides to not overthink it. He's no Casanova and the pretense will only bite him in the ass, so his best bet is to just... say what’s on his mind.
blue--moon: my unsavoury answer is that im looking at your pics
blue--moon: hand down my pants
blue--moon: thinkin abt all the ways i’d let you ruin me
And that’s when the pin drops. It feels like an out-of-body experience for him. It seems like the sensation on his cock goes straight to his fingers and he didn’t realize what he wrote until he’d already sent it. For a hot second, he thinks he’s royally fucked it up. She would tell him to go fuck himself or straight up block him.
Harrison puts his phone screen on lock, resting it on his forehead like a dumbass that he is.
And then his screen lights up again.
To be quite frank, she’s every bit as surprised and curious as he is. Most guys either maintain their bravado by saying shit that makes them sound manly and cool, or be too thirsty for her own liking. Either way, it turns her off.
But every once in a blue moon, someone would say it just right that it would pique her genuine interest. She’s not sure if it’s his words, his pictures, or just her, but she finds herself typing back three words to him. And those three words are more than enough to fuel him on.
violetformyfurs: tell me more.
blue--moon: i keep picturing you as a huge tease
blue--moon: playing with my cock and sitting on it and cumming on it
blue--moon: but you won't let me cum
violetformyfurs: bold of you to assume I'd touch your cock at all before you earn it ;)
Harrison swallows. Somehow the idea excites him more than any fantasy he'd had of her before. He loves a girl who gives him a hard time, and right now, he's having a hard time alright.
He reaches for his hard-on and starts absently stroking it, eager for her next message.
blue--moon: oh? tell me more
violetformyfurs: Well first, I gotta leave my marks all over your pretty neck
violetformyfurs: Little lipstick stains and love bites
violetformyfurs: Trail down your chest to your hip bone
violetformyfurs: And then come right back up and ride your face so you can show me how you earn it :)
He picks up his pace, letting his pre-cum slick his motion. But he pictures her in her bed, anticipating his response, and he doesn’t wanna let her down and finish so early. He wanted to show her he's worth her time.
blue--moon: fuck yes
blue--moon: i wanna taste you through your panties
blue--moon: pull it aside and eat you out real sloppy
blue--moon: let you ride my fingers too
violetformyfurs: Mm fuck yeah, you have nice hands too
blue--moon: they’re all yours
Y/N couldn't resist going back to his profile picture. All veiny forearms and slender fingers. And that ring… She slides two fingers inside her and pretends it's his, working her open, stroking for her pleasure. She likes to think he gets off on it, too.
violetformyfurs: Fuck yeah. Want you to make me cum all over you
violetformyfurs: And maybe if you're good, I'll put my mouth on your cock.
violetformyfurs: Lick the precum off of the tip of your cock, and then taking you deep down my throat
violetformyfurs: And I can go pretty deep too ;)
Harrison curses out loud. Oh, if she could only see him, pumping his hand around his dick faster, wishing it was her sweet mouth bringing him closer to the edge. And who knows, maybe she's out there, touching herself with the thought of him, too…
(She totally is. Panties hooked on an ankle and hips bucking up from her bed, she indulges herself with the idea of choking on this pretty boy’s cock.)
blue--moon: fuckin hell
blue--moon: please please please suck my cock
blue--moon: wanna cum in your mouth while im smothered in your wet pussy
violetformyfurs: Greedy 😏
blue--moon: can you blame me
violetformyfurs: Haha fair
blue--moon: god i bet you taste good
blue--moon: bet you feel so fucking good too
violetformyfurs: Mm, maybe I oughta ride your big hard cock too
violetformyfurs: Bounce on it hard and fast
violetformyfurs: Or maybe I should just.. sit there and play with my clit and clench around you?
violetformyfurs: Which one will it be, baby?
blue--moon: whichever way you'll have me goddd
blue--moon: just wanna cum inside you
violetformyfurs: Beg for it.
She slows down her motions and her breaths, fingertips barely ghosting over her wet and swollen nub. Gosh, she's so fucking close; she just need a little more nudge.
blue--moon: wanna feel your little pussy squeeze the cum outta my cock
blue--moon: grippin me so tight
violetformyfurs: You close?
violetformyfurs: You wanna fill my pussy with your cum, watch it run down my thighs?
blue--moon: fuuuck yes please
violetformyfurs: Go on, then. Cum for me, baby
Harrison could barely send that last message before he falls apart all over his stomach, pent-up release painted on strong muscles contracting in waves of ecstasy. Chest rising and falling in exertion.
And she pictures the most beautiful sight under her, coming undone as she lets go, clenching around nothing although it feels like one of her best orgasms in a while.
blue--moon: holy shit
blue--moon: made a whole mess outta me
violetformyfurs: Can I see?
blue--moon: you sure?
Y/N bites her lower lip in anticipation. She's not usually one for boys' nudes (a lot of them don't know how to take good pictures), but orgasm has been had and either way, she has nothing to lose.
To her surprise, though, he doesn't send her a crude dick pic with horrible lighting. Instead, she gets a picture of his cock, thick and veiny like his arms, resting on toned abs bathed in soft golden light, splattered in his own cum, and she finds her pussy throbbing at the sight.
violetformyfurs: Wow 😳
violetformyfurs: I mean, pardon my French
blue--moon: lol thank you 🙈
violetformyfurs: That was fun haha
blue--moon: it really was… deffo wasn't expecting my evening to go this way lol
violetformyfurs: What, having a wank sesh with some random girl online?
blue--moon: or thinking abt a wank sesh while looking at this girl's pics and then suddenly she dms you out of the blue
violetformyfurs: 😂😂 call me psychic
blue--moon: imma call you magic
violetformyfurs: Haha, call me Violet.
Harrison taps his screen, typing up his response and deleting it again. He ponders whether he should give her his real name-- part of him really wants to. But then again, thirsty social media is a fickle thing and he would hate to get into trouble for lurking about in this lewd little corner. So instead, he decides up with something equally witty.
blue--moon: nice to meet you violet. im blue 😉
Morning shoots are the worst, and the only saving grace for Harrison is the coffee in his right hand. He occasionally joins the conversation with his co-stars Thaddea and Jojo on either side, but mostly he just scrolls through his Instagram mindlessly.
Until a notification pops up on the top of his screen.
violetformyfurs posted a new picture: Rise and shine 🌻💙
He immediately puts his phone down on his lap, trying to discreetly open it, even though his friends are not even two feet away from him.
And there she is. Her arm holding up the breasts he so wants to mark and devour. Her skin adorned with the morning dew of the shower, glowing from the sun streaming in from the window on her right.
He notices the blue heart emoji on the caption, and he can't help thinking this is her subtle way of calling out to him, hoping to get his attention.
(And of course, Harrison's only a man. His attention was caught very easily this way.)
Y/N’s phone buzzes in her jacket pocket as she walks to her morning class. And when she sees his username on her notification bubble, she picks it up immediately, thinking, hook, line, and sinker, despite the genuine butterflies in her stomach.
blue--moon: good morning indeed 👀
violetformyfurs: Never pegged you for an early riser.
blue--moon: im really not, but you're a sight for sore sleepy eyes
violetformyfurs: I would say the same about you, but...
blue--moon: im sorry darling, im already dressed for work 🙁
violetformyfurs: And what are you wearing?
She wants to kick herself for being so forward, but at the same time, she can’t help it. She can see him getting flustered wherever he is, knowing where this conversation is going. And God, she loves it.
blue--moon: a full victorian era suit
violetformyfurs: Ooh, tres sexy
He's not sure what gave it away; the quiet laugh or the goofy grin on his face, but his friends both turn to him at the same time. Curious and mischievous at the same time.
"What is it?" Darci pries, craning her neck to look at Harrison's phone.
He quickly closes the app and locks it. "It's nothing."
"I think the question should be who is it." Thaddea shoots him a knowing look, and he knows there's no escaping this girl's sharp eyes.
So he just answers dubiously, “Some girl.” he playfully shoves Darci’s arm away so he can get back to his message.
blue--moon: haha sure 🙄
violetformyfurs: Well, the more layers to peel off, the more fun, right?
blue--moon: idk your little bday suit looks pretty fun too
violetformyfurs: How so, my lord?
Harrison loves how sharp-witted she is. He pictures her, curious, head tilted to the side, calling him ‘my lord’ with a smirk. Eyeing him up and down, undressing him with her eyes. He somehow feels more naked in his suit and big blue coat than she is in absolutely nothing.
blue--moon: so i can kiss you and taste you and fuck you whenever and wherever
It’s short and simple and straightforward, and it sends Y/N clenching her thighs in anticipation. She likes the idea of this boy pulling her in and pleasuring her all hours of the day --bent over the desk, against the sink, laid out on the couch, in the shower…
“We’re ready on set for you guys,” a PA comes over to inform them, and Harrison fights the urge to groan like a child as he follows his friends out.
blue--moon: ah shit, duty calls
blue--moon: talk to you in a bit?
violetformyfurs: Try not to think of me in my birthday suit too much, Blue ;)
blue--moon: impossible 😜
He means it. It’s cold and muddy where he is, and all he could think of is this girl wearing his blue coat costume, nothing else underneath. God, what he wouldn’t give to dive under the material and get on his knees before her…
And unbeknownst to him, it is just as impossible for her to not daydream any further about this boy. She’s not sure whether his line about a Victorian suit is true or not. If it isn’t, that means he has a sense of humor. Y/N appreciates that-- maybe more than the nudes and the sexting.
If it is, well… she likes the idea of his muscular chest clad in one of those puffy white shirts, a la Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid.
He finally texts back late in the afternoon during her presentation for her Emotional and Conflict Resolution class, and she couldn’t rush through her conclusion fast enough. For a miraculous second, her priority for a perfect score takes a backseat to the possibility of a text from some random dude she met online last night.
Christ, what a simp.
“Thank you very much, Ms. Y/L/N, for a very insightful presentation. Next week, we will be delving into children’s literature…” she tunes out the voice of Professor Getty as she packs up her laptop and gets the hell out of the lecture hall.
She pulls out her phone out of her pocket and bites back a smile at the notification on top of her screen. At least her fumbling earlier wasn’t all for naught.
blue--moon posted a new picture: hope you’re having a wonderful day 💜
But it’s not the well wish that makes her heart skip a beat. Or the little purple heart to signify that the message is intended for ‘Violet.’ It’s the picture attached to it; the frilly low-collared white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows…
A signet ring on his finger, gold glistening against his onyx phone case and marble skin.
violetformyfurs: I was gonna say something about your choice of wardrobe
violetformyfurs: But I’m just a tiny bit distracted by your hand.
blue--moon: like what you see? 😏
violetformyfurs: It’s alright...
blue--moon: i seem to recall you wanting to ride my fingers last night 👀
violetformyfurs: I did.
violetformyfurs: I do
violetformyfurs: That signet ring hits different, just saying
violetformyfurs: Yep. Wonder how much better it looks, drenched in my juices
blue--moon: funny bc i was deffo thinking abt fingering you with it all day
violetformyfurs: It would be my pleasure, my lord.
blue--moon: and mine, milady.
“Harrison Jarrison Osterfield!” Jojo all but screeches into his right ear from the backseat of the car.
Harrison, of course, not realizing he'd been snooping, drops his phone in surprise and squawks, “For fuck’s sake, man!”
“You randy little fucker!” Jojo cackles almost maniacally, pulling McKell into it. “Bro, he’s getting steamy with a girl over text!”
“For real? Wahey!” McKell exclaims as he slaps Harrison playfully on the arm. “Let’s see her, then. Is she hot?”
“Oh, my God. Fucking hell, shut up!” Harrison groans, covering his beet red face in his hands. “I can’t fucking believe this…”
“Who knew, eh?”
“Our golden boy turns out to be a nasty little fella after all!”
The golden boy in question picks up his phone off of the car floor mat, and groans once more when he sees what he’d sent her accidentally. And her response that follows.
violetformyfurs: ...What’s that supposed to mean?
blue--moon: shit! sorry
blue--moon: dropped my phone. my asshole friends being nosy.
violetformyfurs: I’m about to get on the tube anyway. talk to you when i get home?
blue--moon: sure. wouldn’t want some rando read our naughty texts over your shoulder, right? lol
violetformyfurs: Please. We both know You’re the naughty one between us, darling ;)
The blood rushes right down his cock as the memories of her come flooding in. Hell yes, he's willing to be the naughty one for her. So he endures all the teasing and takes all the piss his friends are giving throughout the car ride to their complex. He ignores the shit-eating grins they throw each other when he turns down their offer to hang out and play FIFA at McKell’s.
“I love you guys,” Harrison starts as he walks up to his door, “But you’re massive dicks. I’ll see you tomorrow!”
He enters his building with his two friends egging him on and humping a flagpole, mimicking the bass line of some sexy club music. For a moment carried away with the amusement and excitement of falling for someone new. For a second forgetting the fact that they’re just personas, tiny glimpses of themselves through the filter of social media.
There’s no new messages from her, and Harrison eventually decides to put down his phone to go shower. He notes the tent he’s pitching underneath his trousers, but decides not to do anything about it. Why jerk off to her, when he can jerk off with her at the same time? He knows his imagination is nothing compared to her and her unbelievable way with words.
And as time proves it, her message awaits him when he gets out of the shower, a gleaming little ray of light among bleak system updates and ad alerts. Bold and witty and somehow quite… romantic.
violetformyfurs: Honey, I’m home!
blue--moon: hey! feel like talking on the phone?
Harrison might as well just shoots himself in the foot. This is way too intimate at this stage. They just met last night, for God's sake, and not even in person! What was he thinking? If she hadn't ghosted him then, she sure will now--
violetformyfurs is inviting you to a voice call.
He freaks out all the same, although for a completely different reason now. He won’t have time to edit what he’s gonna say before he says it. What if he says the wrong thing? What if he sounds weird? What if she sounds weird? Oh God--
"Hi,” he greets her, friendly and even, trying his best to hide his nerves.
"Hey, stranger." There's a smile in her voice. Quiet, but warm nonetheless, and Harrison relaxes a bit.
"Hi," he replies, kicking himself over how stupid he sounds for saying hello twice, sitting himself down on the couch. Just go with the flow, he reminds himself. "Whatcha up to?"
"Eh, just lazing around in the bath, getting wine tipsy..." she sighs, water gently flowing in the background. "Treating myself."
His eyebrows rise, intrigued. "What's the occasion?"
"Psychology presentation well done, which-- you, sir, nearly cost me my grade."
"What did I do?!"
"You sent me that fucking text in the middle of my talk! Distracted me. Made me trip over my words,” she grumbles.
“Aw, I’m sorry…” he grins, not at all sorry that he makes her just as flustered as he is. “What was the presentation about?”
“The Horror of Grief in The Haunting of Hill House.”
“You did a study on Hill House?” Harrison feels the butterflies and fireflies in his stomach. There’s something very attractive about a hot girl who’s also a nerd. “Oh, I love that show!”
“It’s amazing, right?” she gushes back.
“I’m pretty sure I binged it all in one go,” he laughs, quiet and warm. “So what’s your, uh… hypothesis? Is that what it’s called? I don’t know, I’m not really an academic person.”
Y/N finds herself giggling-- thanking God she’s not the only one nervous. “Horror shows aren’t only a safe space to experience horror or thrill anymore. Hill House explores the reasons behind these horrors, the grief and the trauma, which makes it very… reflective for us as the audience.”
“So, no matter how scary the ghosts or the monsters are, it’s still a very human experience,” Harrison concludes thoughtfully.
There’s a brief lull between them, but they don’t mind it much. For a moment, it feels like a mundane conversation they’ve had a million times before-- going about their day, their favorite show, the little things they nerd about… I could get used to this, Y/N briefly muses.
“I’m actually doing something that has to do with horror and grief, too,” he pipes up, and Y/N secretly wishes she could curl up into his chest as they chat.
“It’s a… series, too…” he toys with the tassel of a throw pillow, “Hence the Victorian suit.”
“Are you an actor, then?”
He sighs. Being an actor is always awkward, people would ask if they’ve seen him in anything or ask whether he’s famous-- because he’s really not, he’s just starting out. It’s even more awkward when the whole relationship relies on anonymity.
“Kind of. All I do is wear these stupid costumes and fuck around with my friends, really.”
She rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t call that costume stupid…”
“Yeah, you liked that, didn’t you?”
“Hell yeah. The shirt? The ring?” Y/N throws her head back and moans for dramatic effect.
And with that, Harrison is gone and Little Harrison stirs in attention. “Don’t-- don’t do that.”
“What did I do?!” she parrots what he said earlier.
“Make those… obscene sounds.”
She scoffs playfully. “I’m sorry, is doing a period drama turning you into a prude?”
“Fuck you,” he laughs, fighting the blush creeping up his cheeks even though she can’t see it.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Check and fucking mate. She’s so much smarter than him and it turns him on more than he ever knows. “Well, yeah,” he bashfully admits.
She hums, light and airy, bringing the conversation to another lull. But the silence feels heavy this time. The silence of two people who are wildly attracted to each other, hearing each other’s voice for the first time.
Wanting oh so much to be together that they don’t know where to begin.
“What are you up to?” he asks again. But his voice is deeper, lower this time, and she knows exactly where he’s going.
“Told you, I’m treating myself. Bath, wine…” she purrs, playing it cool, “Orgasms.”
He swallows. “Are you touching yourself?”
She slides her hand between her legs, indulging in the shock of her fingertip meeting her clit. She’d been denying herself on any touch, and now she can let out a breathy sigh of relief. “What do you think?”
“Fuck--” he palms himself through his sweatpants, relishing in the sound of her voice. “Are you... thinking of me touching you?”
Y/N’s finger drags lower, running back and forth along her nether lips. “Mm-hm. Thinking of your nice, long fingers teasing me and stretching me open…”
“Do it then.” the words fall out of his mouth all too easily. “Tease yourself ‘til you’re nice and slippery, and slide a finger in for me.”
He hears labored breaths on the other end, and he honestly thought she’s gonna cave. And what a stupid assumption he made.
Two words. That’s all it takes to get his cock straining underneath his boxers.
"One," he starts out, "...and then another."
Two fingers. She is truly an impatient thing, and so buries them inside at once and curls them in a way that makes her squirm. Y/N's breath hitches as her fingers thrust in, smaller than the one she wanted, but gives her the pleasant ache nevertheless. She lets out a low moan as she caresses that spot inside her.
"That's it, baby. Just like that…"
She doesn’t usually like pet names, but the way he calls her in his sweet, boyish voice drives her mad. She wouldn’t mind having it whispered in her ear as he holds her against his chest and fingers her.
"I don't think my hand can compare to yours, but--" Her moans echo in the bathroom tiles, and it sounds more angelic than any choir Harrison has ever heard in any grand cathedral.
“You sound so good, fuck…” Harrison shifts as he frees his stubborn cock. The irony of allowing himself some release by tightening his fist around his length is completely lost on him.
The corner of Y/N’s mouth pulls up into a half-smile as she hears a low, strained moan on the other end. “Are you touching yourself?”
“...Yeah?” the answer is painfully obvious, and yet Harrison blushes anyway.
She chuckles, low and lazy, and lets it die down into a sigh. “Wish you were here. I could use you to stretch me open and fuck me hard.”
Harrison groans at the sound of her sweet whine. “Fuck yes use me,” he rambles on, drunk from desire.
“Want you to pound into me while I kiss and bite your neck, you wanna know why?”
Y/N shuts her eyes to regain some composure. She doesn’t wanna waver in the face of her subject after all. “So you’d remember how good you are to me.”
“Fuck, 'm so close...” he breathes, clenching his fist like he imagines her pussy would. His strokes grow more erratic, as if moving in syncopation with her moans and her movement.
It takes her everything to hold out and say, "Come with me, baby,” before the familiar warm tingle rushes through her veins and desperate moans crash through the line.
For a moment, there’s only light rustles of fabric and quiet sloshes of water on the line. Little noises that bring these strangers closer with every heartbeat, every breath taken in harmony. Somehow, somewhere in different corners of the world, two strangers find themselves tied a little closer together. Intimately close and safely distant at the same time.
Y/N eventually caves in breaking the silence. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?"
"I could say the same about you," he retorts. "God, I feel like I need to take another… cold shower."
"Maybe you should," she giggles. "We'll catch up later."
"Right." He tries to hide the sliver of disappointment, but reminds himself that this may not be their last conversation. "Talk to you... soon?"
She bids him farewell and it's like the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. The soft ding of his notification sounds so crass compared to her. The content, however, brings a smile to his face.
A new post from his mystery girl, covered in bubbles, wine glass wrapped around her fingers. The picture is cut just above her smirking mouth.
violetformyfurs: Happy Friday from your favorite fancy bitch 🥂💦💙
Over the next six weeks, Y/N finds a fast companion in this mysterious guy called ‘Blue.’ The witty banters and flirty messages become a regular interaction. It’s an awfully convenient arrangement-- she is attracted to him enough to get off, but she doesn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of sleeping with someone new or face the possibility that he might be a bad lay in real life.
“I mean, I like to think I’m alright…” he said defensively about two weeks into their ‘acquaintance.’ “I’ve had zero complaints so far.”
“Show me the receipts then!” she challenged him jokingly.
He didn’t show her his Yelp page, of course. He did, however, control her Lush vibrator from his phone and teased the hell out of her until she lost count of her edges. It wasn’t until she threatened him through her teeth, “Let me fucking come or else,” that he finally relented and let her come three times over.
“Still think I’m bad in bed?”
She could hear the cocky smirk in his voice and she wants to wipe it off of him so badly. “Jury’s still out.”
“Wh-- How is that even-- that is ridiculous! Come on!” He all but squawked incredulously.
“I’m sorry! I still can’t objectively determine the proficiency of your mouth, fingers, and/or dick based on how you operate my Lush. That’s just not how this research should be conducted.” Y/N very consciously uses her ‘serious’ voice, although a light laughter trails behind.
“Alright, you nerd,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you pass, but only because it’s so fucking hot when you talk nerdy like that.”
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?”
“Mm yeah, talk nerdy to me,” he moans in humor, although there’s a truth to it, too.
(In the end, they stayed on the line and made each other come one more time before calling it a night.)
What’s better-- or worse- is that Y/N enjoys his company, too. His blazing thirst traps and quippy jokes all at once. It pops up at random points of her days-- over breakfast, in the middle of class, on her tube ride home.
Like that time he sent her a very tasteful black-and-white dick pic-- one of the very few he sent her. His uncut cock stands erect, his fingers wrapped around the base of his thick girth. The veins on his wrist and the ones along his curving length make her salivate…
And before she could respond accordingly, he sent another version of that image, this time framed that infamous Nickelback meme, captioned ‘been wanting to expand on more artsy formats wdyt’
violetformyfurs: Thank you for canceling my thirst with the unsexiest reference ever.
blue--moon: how dare you, nickelback is sexy af
blue--moon: they just get a bad rep, ok?? their music is actually pretty good
blue--moon: heard it's a good aphrodisiac too 😏
violetformyfurs: Lmao says who?
blue--moon: says me??
violetformyfurs: Alright, Nickelstan 👀
blue--moon: ugh so judgy 🙄 imma prove you wrong
(He made her a sex playlist that night. She stubbornly skipped the damn song when she touched herself to it. Out of principle.)
Some nights they didn't even have anything to do with sex. Some nights he would talk her ear off about his day while she prepares herself dinner. Other nights, Y/N would be buzzed from double espresso, ranting about her assignment or the undergrads’ papers she’s grading while he tidied up his flat. And when neither of them could sleep, they would just lie around in their own beds and talk about nothing.
“Oh God, We're young and beautiful; we should be out celebrating life!" he groans as he stretches, head hanging upside down from the edge of the bed. “Instead we’re talking about how homemade Nando’s will never taste the same as real Nando’s.”
“I think you’re just a bad cook,” she pokes fun at him.
“Why don’t you be the judge of that?”
“Ha, right.” the laugh comes out easy until she notices the meaningful silence on the other end. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Maybe... we can, I don’t know, hang out once I’m back in London.”
And then there’s that. Little abstract plans with indefinite dates. Subtle reminders that that’s all they are-- strangers. They might know all the minute details about each other’s body and mind... And none of who they actually are.
Not even their face.
It’s an unspoken agreement between them: he’s an actor, she’s on track to be a university lecturer. Both of them would be in big trouble if this naughty little secret gets out. So they settle on picking up little tidbits about each other. Just to give the illusion that they know each other. That they’re less lonely than they actually are.
Until they don’t have to be.
“Wow. Huh...” she thinks hard to collect her thoughts. Granted, he’s never done anything to cause her distrust, but she still needs to be cautious… right? “Sure. I mean, we’ll see. You probably won’t be back in a while, right?”
“I’ll be done in about a week, give or take,” he replies nonchalantly --or so he tries to be.
One week of their acquaintance felt like forever. They went from strangers to sharing childhood trauma in less time. But one week until they meet each other face-to-face… it’s too brash, too soon. She’s not ready. Her stomach twists and the palm of her hand sweats and --
“We don’t have to meet, of course,” he quickly adds. “I was just throwing it out there.”
But her heart drops. The possibility of not meeting now hurts more now that they’ve been presented the opportunity to do so, and she realizes just how much she wants to.
Y/N scratches her head, frustrated with herself. “I would love to, I just-- I don’t know what to feel about it yet. Can we put a rain check on this?”
“Absolutely. Take your time. Ball’s in your park.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking idiot!
Harrison internally kicked himself as he felt Violet withdrawing from him in that conversation. She’s completely fair not to trust him; he has access to her nudes and for all she knows, he could be a weirdo. He would retract his statement altogether if he could, if only it weren’t too late.
She assured him she’s fine, but he purposely avoided any talks of meeting up since then. Consciously stopped himself from saying shit like ‘someday’ on things they would do together. He didn’t even tell her when he got back to London. He’s simply grateful that things are slowly going back to normal between them.
Conversation is easy that snowy morning. Fresh off his run, Harrison finds amusement in her grumpy, sleep-deprived texts as he waits in line at his local coffee shop.
violetformyfurs: Is it not enough to snow on the last day of the term?
violetformyfurs: Do I really have to wait in a long line for coffee, too?? God????
blue--moon: just got off my morning run. hello you ;)
violetformyfurs: How do people live like this
blue--moon: out of sheer willpower?
violetformyfurs: Oh go fuck yourself.
blue--moon: 😂 in your defense, some of us don’t have to burn through a million papers til 3am last night
violetformyfurs: Wow, I told you to go fuck yourself and you jumped to MY defense?
violetformyfurs: Guess chivalry isn’t dead after all
blue--moon: call me your knight in shining Nikes lol
“May I take your order, please?” a bored-looking guy behind the counter snaps him out of his reverie.
“Sorry! Uh, can I have a medium hot Americano, please?” he smiles apologetically to him.
“Harrison,” he answers and pays quickly, sauntering over to the pickup counter to avoid any further embarrassment.
He stands there gingerly, next to the girl who queued in front of him earlier. Pretty cute, all bundled up in a knitted scarf and glasses perched on her nose. Their eyes meet for a moment, and she briefly smiles at him-- well, as much a stranger would out of courtesy. Harrison barely smiles back when she looks back down on her phone, which he takes as a sign to return his attention to his.
violetformyfurs: Haha. You’re hilarious. I’m dying.
blue--moon: you’re mean, thats what you are 🙄
violetformyfurs: I will stop being mean once I get
violetformyfurs: Coffee!!! 😤
“Hot Americano, medium?” the barista announces.
Both Harrison and the girl reach for the paper cup at the same time. The latter stops just before their fingertips brush against each other and takes a double glance at his hand-- or where the labels are on the cup.
There’s a split second pause before she asks the barista, “Double shot espresso for Y/N?”
Harrison’s eyes go wide. He knows that voice. He’s familiar with its rambles and laughs and whines and moans. He looks at the girl, then at her phone, then at his, barely aware of the exchange happening before him. He hears her speak and he hears her name, and his mind just clicks.
“Ah yes, sorry. Here you go.” the man behind the counter huffs, handing to her and turning to get another cup. “Oh! Another hot Americano. Medium, single shot for… Harrison?”
“I believe that’s yours,” she pipes up, her eyes following him curiously.
“Right. Um. Thanks,” Harrison absently says to the barista. He doesn’t walk away, either. Instead, he turns to the girl, “I’m really sorry, are you--”
“I think you’re--”
“Wait.” she holds a finger up, takes a swig of her coffee like she’s bracing herself, presses a few buttons on her phone, and looks at him expectantly.
Harrison’s phone lights up in his hand and he shows her the screen: violetformyfurs is inviting you for a voice call.
“Fuck,” they both say in perfect unison.
The barista stares at them confused and unamused. He quickly moves onto the next customer, and they swiftly move away from the counter. Both of them feel like they’re floating just above the floor.
“Is this really happening? This isn’t just my sleepy-ass mind playing tricks, right?” she thinks out loud, eyes wide and blinking slowly in disbelief.
Harrison shakes his head, still dazed from it all.
“Wow-- it’s-- I--” her phone lights up in her hand and she barely glances at it before putting it on lock. “Shit, I have to go. My class.”
“Wait! Can I see you again?” he asks immediately, worrying he’s gonna lose his chance. Although now that he’s said it out loud, he’s also worried that she might get scared off. “Maybe after your classes or when you’re not--”
“Meet you back here at 3?” she cuts in, her voice quiet.
Harrison loses all words and just nods.
“Okay. It’s good to finally meet you… Harrison.” her eyes crinkle as she says his real name for the very first time, as if figuring out the taste in her mouth.
He repeats her name over and over as she walks away, heading out into the cold. Loudly in his head, soundlessly on the tip of his tongue. Matches the name to the rest of her that he pieced out, bit by little bit in the past six weeks. What little he noticed of her in their surprise encounter earlier.
It suits her.
Y/N keeps opening and closing the message thread between herself and her mystery guy. And when she’s not, the thought doesn’t leave her the whole day. All she wants to do is to say, “Can you believe that we ran into each other totally by accident?” to the very person she ran into.
Whom she recognized by his hand when he reached for her coffee. She knows the line on the back of his hand like the back of her hand. And when she looks at the owner of that hand, it clicks.
Her last class of the day couldn’t go fast enough. She’s only there to monitor the final exams, so she spends most of her 2 hours sitting there, waiting, thinking. The stack of her previous class' exams are ungraded and untouched. And before she leaves campus, she barely makes a beeline to the bathroom to apply some mascara and lipstick.
She arrives at the coffee shop early, hoping she'd get a few minutes to prepare herself for this meeting. Maybe she can even dip if she gets cold feet.
How stupid of her to think she'd get any more time than she'd already had the whole day.
Harrison conveniently sits on a corner table by the window, typing away on his laptop with his AirPods on. He looks so cozy in his knit turtleneck, glasses perched atop his nose. He spots her right away-- sitting facing the door, there's no way he would have missed her.
(He wouldn't have missed her with his back to her, he thinks. Not this time.)
Y/N awkwardly motions at the counter, and they exchange an awkward non-verbal exchange of 'I'll be there in a bit, I'm just gonna order some hot tea to calm the fuck down.' She tries to very discreetly fix her hair, which probably looks a mess from the wind and the tube ride.
"Hey!" Harrison beams, AirPods and laptop cleared and tucked away from the table.
Neither of them are sure where they're going. She goes in with one hand and he's already leaning forward, and they end up in a funny half hug/half handshake situation. As much as it embarrassed the hell out of them, it also gives them reason to laugh at themselves.
"This is… so strange.” Y/N grimaces as she takes her seat opposite him.
"I know, I've never really done this before." he chuckles, warmth rising on his cheeks as he settles back into his seat.
She’s trying to find something to say, but she gets caught off-guard by his eyes. She was much too distracted by the shock and the overall physical presence of him. But his clear-framed Wayfarers frame his handsome face, emphasizing his dazzling eyes.
Blue. Like his namesake.
“You have very pretty eyes,” he breaks the silence with a quiet observation.
She bites the inside of her cheek, chucks it right back at him. “I could say the same about you.”
“That was a cheap line, wasn’t it?” the pink tinge returns to his cheek, although it doesn’t feel like it ever went away. He laughs and she laughs along, but he means it. Her dark eyes are warm and comforting on this grey, icy day.
“Ah, well, I’ll give it a pass,” Y/N coolly looks out the window. Then she flashes a cheeky smile at him, “This time.”
And with her bright personality, it lights a fire deep within his stomach. God, he likes this girl.
“So how’s your last day of class?” he smoothly switches back to casual small talk. “Did Sleepy Joe come through?”
“Right, yeah!” she beams this time. “He came into class just in the nick of time, and I’m... pretty sure he answered most of the questions?”
“Wahey, well done!”
“I haven't graded it, but it looks okay! Like, it’s coherent so far."
"So far." he reminds her. "Who knows, man, maybe he fell asleep halfway through a sentence and started... doodling Shrek or something."
"You're a man with peculiar taste, you know that? Shrek and Nickelback and all that…” she muses, purposely leaving the part where she thinks it’s cute as fuck.
“Come on, you like ‘em, too,” he goads her through his coffee cup. “We both know you’re not always into--”
“Into what?” Her eyebrows shoot up challengingly.
“The deep, important stuff that reflects… you know, the society in the past or present. Or future.”
“You sound like Sleepy Joe trying to bullshit his way through my class.”
The little inside jokes seem to flow easily then, as if they’ve had this conversation numerous times. And in retrospect, they have. Spread over many afternoons, over copious cups of tea. Just always with hundreds of miles between each other. Never separated by a mere foot length of a coffee shop table. Elbows nearly bumping.
Hands well within reach as they catch up like old friends.
Or old lovers. They haven’t decided on that yet. If their knees touch under the table, or their hands accidentally brush as they grab their cups, they say nothing.
And before they know it, they talk and talk until the barista quietly (but pointedly) comes up to them to say the cafe’s closing up. Y/N eyes glints at the sheer amusement of this innocent bystander, and Harrison struggles to keep his laughter in.
“He’s not really a big fan, is he?” Harrison snickers as the guy returns to the back of the counter.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s ecstatic. He just witnessed a meet-cute that held up a long line in the morning and now these assholes are back, holding him up at the end of his shift.” she rolls her eyes playfully. “I’m sure he thinks we’re adorable.”
Truth be told, they are.
And truth be told, Harrison is not quite ready to go back to being by his singular self just yet. So as they walk out of the coffee shop and reach the curb, he musters up the courage to ask,
“So what’s the rest of your night look like?”
“Probably just make myself some dinner, have a drink…” Y/N gingerly scratches the back of her ear. “Join me?”
And there it goes. A simple, two-word question, and a look on her face-- so subtle yet so beyond words- that tells him maybe she enjoys his company, too.
"Lead the way," he offers his arm.
She takes his arm and huddles up closer as she shivers from the cold gust of wind. The layers of clothing a stark contrast to their usual state of undress in their pictures, the surprisingly wholesome conversation at the cafe, the quiet walk back to her flat… they’re not exactly what she expected.
But maybe it’s just what she needed.
"So I gotta ask," she starts, and he knows where this is going. "And I don’t mean this in a nosy, possessive kind of way, but-- why didn't you tell me you were back in town?”
Harrison contemplates an excuse. He could tell her he’d just arrived, or he’d come back early on a whim, or he was planning to visit his mother first anyway. But he doesn’t. “Well… I didn’t wanna make it weird between us. Didn’t wanna make you feel like-- I don’t know. Like I’m pressuring you to meet me, you know?”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she notes, and then coolly adds, “But honestly, I'm fine. If I feel like you’re pressuring me into anything, I’ll let you know, alright?”
“Of course.” he quietly smiles to himself, although he doubts it would ever come to that. He’d happily wrap himself around her little finger. So bold, so beautiful, so sure of herself.
Y/N catches his smile and finds herself doing the same, too. He looks at her like he’s perpetually in awe of her, and it makes her so fucking weak.
“And for what it’s worth… I’m glad we decided to meet up.” she puts a reassuring hand on his arm.
“I don’t think we had a choice the first time, technically.”
“Man, get out of here with your technicalities!” she jokingly shoves him away with her over-the-top John Mulaney impression, sending him laughing and stumbling on the slippery ground.
She leads him up to the second floor of her building, welcoming him into her humble one-bedroom flat. She half wishes she’d tidied up before she left this morning--she has empty mugs serving as paperweight for assignments she’s grading and her knit blanket balled up on one end of the couch because she couldn’t be bothered to fold it before heading to bed last night.
Not that it matters.
To him, the mess is as much a part of charm as the rest. He likes how her shelves have books stacked and lined up in no particular order that he recognizes, documents sticking out like white tongues and all. He likes how she uses a succulent as a bookend. He likes the Polaroid pictures and bills and reminders on the fridge, held up by colorful enamel magnets. It’s an extension of her that no amount of pictures or conversations can capture.
“So,” she pipes up as he studies the framed pictures and diplomas on the wall, making him slightly jump. “You gonna help me cook or what?”
Harrison makes himself useful by picking the music (No Nickelback, Y/N warns, and they settle on a more mutually liked Childish Gambino) and playing sous chef. And he’s a pretty good sous chef, too; sets up the ‘stations’ all neat and organized, chops up the vegetables without so much a chunk out of place, even though he’s rather careful about the amount of seasoning he puts in. He navigates the narrow space of Y/N’s kitchen well enough, hand instinctively landing on her lower back every time he slides past her and vice versa. Chattering away like it doesn't make their hearts skip a beat at that little touch. When the conversation dies down, they let the music fill the companionable silence.
Come dinner-time, they casually play footsie over flirty banters. He compliments her on her scrumptious cooking ("I'm simply using the spices your people colonized my people for," she side-eyes him in good nature.) He takes it as a challenge for when he cooks for her next time. And they go about it as if they're certain that there will be a next time.
And by the time they finish the bottle of wine, they're fully cuddling on the sofa, mildly tipsy and incredibly cozy. Shoes off and sock-clad feet up on the couch, Y/N folds her legs and leans them over Harrison's lap as she curls up on his chest, cheek smushed against his soft grey turtleneck. They're watching The Hobbit although the volume is low and they spend most of the time talking about something else.
"Isn't it funny how we basically put several dates together all in the span of one evening?" he chuckles. "We had coffee, dinner, drinks, Netflix…"
"Man, I don't even know where we're at anymore. I mean, you saw my tits before you even talked to me."
He hums lightly. "And what nice tits they are, too --pardon my French.”
She brushes him off, “Oh, please. Talk French to me any damn day, Harrison.”
He laughs, but says nothing else. When she looks up at him, she catches him deep in thought.
“What is it?”
“It’s just… funny to hear you say my real name.”
“Would you prefer me to call you ‘baby’ like we used to on the phone?”
Her words are playful, but the air swells around them in an instant. Suddenly the weeks and weeks worth of tension is very palpable. They instantly become very aware of how close their bodies are pressed together. His clear blue eyes darken, darting between her eyes, black as night and ridden with mischief. “Do I have to choose?”
She doesn’t miss his quick glance at her wine-kissed lips, and she quirks up a winning smirk. “Harrison, baby… You can have whatever you want.”
And just like that, they close the gap between their lips, neither knowing or caring who goes in first. Not a day goes by without them secretly picturing what kissing the other would feel like, and now that they’re there, as close as they can be, it’s like a sigh of relief. Talking to Harrison has always felt like a thrill, but in that moment, their words cease, fingers weaving into his brown curls, breaths syncing in, and Y/N feels… calm.
As calm as they can be, all enshrouded in warmth until the growing heat overwhelms them.
He wants more, more, more of her. The red wine is ten times sweeter on her tongue, and the faint smell of her clothes and her shampoo and her perfume just intoxicates him. And when she giggles at how he chases her kiss… God.
He murmurs something Y/N doesn’t quite hear.
“Hm?” she pulls away.
Harrison is quick to bury his pretty face in her neck, leaving a trail of soft little kisses to the back of her ear. Then, “However you want me, Y/N. I want it all.”
“Fuck…” she breathes out, pushing him back. Before he even computes, she pulls him up to his feet and leads him to her bedroom door.
Somehow the six-feet distance between her door and her bed feels like miles, and they’re tangled in the endless layers and layers of clothing to peel off. Harrison trips on his sweater and lands just at the edge of the bed. Y/N laughs at him until her own sweater gets stuck and he has to unceremoniously help her out of it. It's not perfect, but somehow it just makes it so.
The giggles turn into sighs as he undoes her shirt button one by one and replaces it with a trail of kisses down her chest. And the sighs turn into moans as his tongue and teeth get involved, marking and soothing her soft mounds. Leaving a wet patch on the sleek surface of the fabric, and a slick sheen on her smooth skin.
He gazes up at her in permission when his hand ventures up her back, right where the hooks are. She bucks up into him to let him do the honors. He undoes her bra in one swift movement of one hand, but then fumbles for a word at the sight of her bare-chested, spread-eagle like some obscene statue and he’s right there kneeling before her at the altar.
“Jesus fuck me,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, and he remembers the telling off he would get back in boarding school.
But far be it for Y/N to reprimand him for that. It’s ridiculous and nonsensical and completely honest. So she bites her lower lip in a discreet smile and remarks, “You like?”
“I love,” he sighs as he puts a pebbled bud in his mouth, one after the other, ingraining the feel of it on his tongue, on the pad of his thumb. The sound of her moans as he sucks and nips at it.
Y/N is completely shameless about reaching underneath her panties as she clenches for who knows how many times. The cotton is completely soaked through, but before she can indulge herself, his hand stops hers.
“No, let me,” Harrison all but whines, like a little boy threatened to get his toy taken away. His fingers hook onto the waistband possessively.
She lifts her hips, but slides slightly off of the bed anyway. He doesn’t seem to mind; his face is only closer to that spot between her legs after all. His hand trails a path from her ankle, along her calf, behind the back of her knee, up her inner thigh… over her glistening pussy.
He can’t believe she’s real.
He licks up her nether lips, slowly sinking into the folds. His tongue ebbs and flows on her clit and fuck if it doesn’t make her shiver. First gently, as if gauging her reaction, then sloppily. As if he can’t help himself. He’s ravenous and she’s allowed him to feast on her.
She is selfish in the indulgence of her pleasure. The moans that come out of her mouth shamelessly fill the room, probably seeping through the walls. Her nail-polished fingers tangled in his brown curls, keeping his head right where she wants her. She chases his mouth with her hips, curves arching and aching to be devoured. He takes and takes and takes, and she wants more, more, more.
"Harrison…" Y/N tugs at his hair a bit. "Your fingers."
And Harrison has heard this request a million times. Only this marks the first time he can actually give her what she wants.
He pulls away to see his middle finger trace the outline of her cunt, watching her clench around nothing at the slightest of the touch. He reaches her clit and rubs circles around it, pressing it gently to let out the beautiful breathy moans from her lips.
"Is there where you want me?" he teases her, a shit-eating grin hidden behind a bite on her thigh.
She groans in response. "You know exactly where I want you."
"I really don't," he replies matter-of-factly, puppy dog eyes staring up at her. "Maybe I need you to tell me."
She's so close to her orgasm, and yet she's inching further and further by the second. "Inside me, god-fucking-dammit!” she urges through her teeth, her grip on his hair sending him enough surge of delicious pain down his spine.
And sends him in line, too.
“You like that, baby?” Y/N pulls his hair back and watches his eyes shut closed in pleasure. “You gonna be good and fingerfuck me like I told you to?”
“Fuck yeah.” he breathes, licking up at her one more time, and in a split second of eye contact, he spits right on her sopping cunt before he sinks his middle finger into her.
Caressing her. One finger and then another.
And she swears she might just come right then and there. No toy, no fantasy could ever amount to this.
“Harrison…” she whimpers, not knowing whether to grind into his hand or grab a fistful of his hair to steady herself. In the end, she does both.
His motion picks up to an incredible pace, fingers switch rapidly between fucking her and rubbing her, moving so fast he's practically slapping her clit. It sets her body on fire, and she gladly goes down trembling and thrashing in her burn for him.
In her haze of orgasm, she barely registers Harrison crawling up over her, pressing light comforting kisses on her chest. But she needs air, and she seeks it in his kiss. Her own arousal on his mouth brings her back to life, and she laps at the remaining juices on his chin, before kissing him deeply, properly.
"Holy fuck," Y/N says between labored breaths. "You eat pussy like a porn star."
"Still think I'm a bad lay?" he smugly pokes fun at her.
"I never said you were! I'm just saying, statistically, there's a chance that you might be…" she pouts in protest.
"Sure. 'Statistically.'" he rolls his eyes sarcastically, prompting her to turn them both over so she's on top.
And God, what a sight he is, sprawled out in her bed like this. No amount of good angles and quality photographs can ever capture this moment so… authentically. The streetlight illuminates the gentle rise and fall of his chest through the window. In this close proximity, she can closely admire the slope of his nose and the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His kiss-swollen lips turn upward in a smile, and Y/N doesn't even try to resist the urge to bring her own lips to his again.
There's no pretense in their kiss. The walls of courtesy are knocked down, and they bear no shame in their want anymore. She's been dying to explore him, and he's more than ready to give all of himself to her.
Y/N guides his arms over his head, drawing lines over the bumps and ridges of his lean muscles. She gently squeezes his wrists, and he's all too happy to oblige in keeping them in place.
"Excited, are we?" Her thigh brushes over the tent he's pitching, and she can't help but tease him.
He only blushes when she peels off his boxer briefs. She doesn't touch him there yet, of course-- she laves at his hip bone and inner thighs, avoiding his glorious hard-on. His lexicon seems to have left him when she makes her way down his abs. The only words that stay with him are praises in her name and curses to the beautiful agony.
"Y/N!" Harrison whines.
"Alright, alright…" she relents with a light laugh as she finally swallows his cock whole, all at once.
He feels his soul getting yanked out of his body as he hits the back of her throat the first time. Y/N takes a moment to even out her breath, but soon bobs her head up and down along his thick length.
Suddenly keeping himself in place isn't such a small feat anymore. He fists at the bedsheets to stop himself from grabbing her hair. But his hips buck up into her as if without his own accord, making her gag.
"Eager, are we?" She smirks, glancing down at the precum leaking out of his purplish tip.
"I need to be inside you before I bust, I swear to God…" he sits and pulls her back up with him, her thighs straddling his.
"Can't help it. You taste so fucking good." Y/N chuckles, nuzzling his nose.
"Yeah? Show me."
Her stomach flips as she cups her face. It's a strangely tender moment in this otherwise obscene activity. He tilts back, letting the warm light wash over his features, and she briefly wonders if he's carved by the gods. Her thumb traces his lower lip, flesh instead of marble, and kisses him languidly. His cum and hers melding into one, tasting like absolute heaven. And before long, the thought of his cum and hers melding inside her takes over her mind until there’s absolutely nothing else.
She doesn’t even tease him. No. She lines his cock onto her entrance and bottoms out in one go. All words go out the window. Only breaths spelled out on each other’s mouth. Limbs tangled up as close as can be. Bodies overwhelmed with the delicious pain of being stretched out by his thick girth and blinding grip of her inner walls.
Almost all words.
Harrison whispers her name, kissing her wherever he can reach her. He doesn’t say it, but the words he said earlier echoes back in her head. However you want me, Y/N. I want it all.
And God, she wants it all.
She rides him hard and fast, and he meets her halfway on every thrust. They somehow find their pace in an off-beat rhythm, peppered with lips and hips colliding in the dirtiest fashion. His hand wanders down to her clit, sending the rest of her body in another wave of pleasure until her pace falters.
Y/N clings onto him like she’s gonna get washed away otherwise. And he holds onto her, like he’s afraid she’s gonna disappear as she logs off every night for the past six weeks.
But she’s here, and so is he. And that’s all that matters.
“Fuck me…” she sighs, burying her face in his neck.
“Are you saying or are you asking?”
She giggles, and he can’t imagine ever being tired of her voice. “Both.”
“Say no more, baby.” Harrison squarely kisses her hair and lays her down on the crumpled-up bedsheets.
He kneels before her, his beauty only rivaled by Michelangelo’s David, and slides into her once again. He takes a sharp breath and the Greek statue comes to life. She likes that she has that effect on him. She wraps her legs around his tiny waist, silent claiming him mine, mine, mine.
“You feel so fucking good, what the fuck?” Harrison feverishly rambles, pounding into her in tight, shallow strokes.
“Yeah?” she gives him a sharp smack on his ass. “Get to it, then.”
“Do that again and I just might.”
Smack! It sends shivers down his spine, and he can’t get enough. He quickens his thrusts with every time her palm lands on his ass, and the idea of her handprint on his skin turns him on beyond belief. And when her delicate hand finds her way to his neck, squeezing him into a new height of ecstasy… he’s done for.
He spills out her name and his release at the same time. And in the warm spray of his release, she finds hers. Clenching and contracting until they’re both left sweaty and breathless in their own mess. Piling on top of each other in comfortable silence.
“Hey, stranger.” he leaves a peck on the tip of her perfect nose. “Whatcha thinking?”
She ponders over the word he used. Stranger. She ponders over how strange it is that he’s never felt like one to her. And even stranger that they have forever and a night to get to know each other. So she simply shakes her head and says,
“Nice to meet you.”
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hello! may i request "body worships" with ran? & hanma maybe! if u feel it. if u can take my req , you can feel free to choose if u want to write it nsfw or sfw . thank you thank you xo
I'll go ahead and choose Hanma since I write Ran quite a bit and I've developed a soft spot for writing Hanma. ♥
tw. Praise, Body Worship, use of 'baby girl,' 'baby,' and 'angel,' vague size kink mentions (not explicit but just in case,) sorta soft vibes??? maybe dumbification if you squint, somewhat shy reader, big dick Hanma just lovin' up on his girl
"Fuck, baby, so wet for me, yeah~?"
His voice was a melodic tune to your ears, ringing through one and right out the other as glassy eyes peered distantly up to his beautiful face that loomed over you with that Cheshire Cat-like grin that sent your stomach fluttering. Hands reached up, grasping in a childish open-closed motion that made him laugh from his gut. Body craned, lips touched, and hips ground down in a lazy roll that made you bellow a groan of delight as your legs quivered.
Hanma's kisses were feverish, a stark contrast to slow, methodical, controlled motions of his lower body. He tasted of smoke and cinnamon, the unique palette like fire along your tongue as it danced with his own in a messy pirouette. You couldn't help it - your pants, gasps, little whimpers and moans. You felt small beneath him, his presence looming and smothering you in him so strongly that all you could taste, breathe, smell, and see was him.
Hanma's words held a breathy end to them, as if desperation clung to those words. It was hard to tell with him, a man so wily and fox-like in attitude yet oddly charming with his faint traces of earnest. Now was one of those times when you'd felt the weight of his words, the true feelings he often refused to outwardly show for whatever damned reason.
"Ooh, just like that," he'd breathed into your open, eager mouth. You'd whimpered, pussy clamping so tightly down along his cock in fearful anticipation of him cruelly pulling himself out. (And it wouldn't have been the first time, so it was rightfully worried, I'd say.) Hanma let out a hiss of delight, cock pumping a slow, deep stroke into your core and making your back arch upwards as a wail cracked from your throat. Hanma's words were a purr, the coo soft in your ears; "God, you treat me so good, baby girl. Feel that? S'all you, clamping down so prettily around me, making me feel so fucking good. You're so fucking perfect, christ, I can't help but stare. Look at you, who made you look that damn good, with those hips, waist, and cute as fuck tits? Who gave you to me, huh? Some angel? Or s'it you? You my angel?"
Your chest fluttered as you gasped and whimpered, hands coming to shyly cover at your face where you'd felt the heat of your cheeks against your palms. Pussy clenched and you felt (and heard) your slick against your thighs as once slow rolls turned into harder pounds, jostling your pretty frame along the sheets. Mouth hung open behind your digits, sounds spilling pitifully from your fucked out body.
Hanma could only gaze in besot, that ever present grin on his face as hooded eyes drank you in all of your beauty entirely in. "S'pretty. Pretty girl, ya'nno that? You and this body, crafted from the gods or something. You're fucking beautiful. Ya'no that, too?"
Head shook a bit, but it was impossible to tell whether it was from the tremors of ecstasy rattling you crescendo'ing to magnificent levels or if it were a genuine answer to him.
"Well, you are. And ya' know what else?"
Eyes cracked open behind wet lashes, peering to Hanma's beautiful face and for a moment growing mesmerized.
Words were a low, charming husk; "And you're all mine."
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“are you sure?”｜kth｜mini
summary ↣ after breaking up with your first-ever boyfriend and gaining some much-needed perspective, you come to the realization that your ex was 1) a complete jerk and 2) terrible in bed. now, newly single, the world is your oyster—there are people to date, flings and sex to be had. but you’ve never been with anyone but your ex, so you decide to ask for a little help testing the waters, from a man you trust—who just so happens to be your older brother’s best friend.
pairing ↣ f. reader x taehyung (ft. older brother!jungkook)
genre ↣ brother’s best friend au｜smut, fluff
word count ↣ 2k
warnings ↣ (nsfw 18+) car sex, oral (f. receiving), protected penetrative sex, slight age gap (reader is 21 and tae is 24), oc had a childhood crush on tae
notes ↣ requested by anon from this list (#78)! it turned out to be a little longer than a drabble, so i’ll call it a mini 😅 thank you for requesting dear, i hope you like it!
He feels like a teenager for it, but Taehyung really likes the way your breasts feel in his palm.
They aren’t remarkably large, but they’re perfect for his hands, rounded and soft between his fingers. He isn’t even conscious of what he’s doing, massaging the supple flesh over and over, rubbing his thumb over your nipple—because the taste of your lips has him utterly intoxicated.
And like an inexperienced boy, copping a feel for what may as well be the first time, he’s struggling to decide what to focus on.
He’s imagined this so many times, but those fantasies pale in comparison to reality. He never could have dreamt up the sweet vanilla scent of your perfume, nor the featherlike touch of your fingers brushing against the nape of his neck.
And you’re pliant beneath him, mirroring his actions eagerly as he requests more—a gentle swipe of his tongue against your lip, his fingertips grazing the hem of your skirt. Each touch is foreign and electrifying as he explores your body, savoring each sensation as if he could wake up from this dream at any moment.
It’s been ten minutes, and he’s already addicted. He couldn’t expect any different, indulging in your essence even for a second, allowing himself a taste of the forbidden fruit by agreeing to this bizarre arrangement.
But he’s weak. Never could he have refused a request like this, not when it came in your sweet-saccharine voice, paired with a coy gaze and fluttering eyelashes.
He’s not one to be cocky, but he knows how women eye him. He doesn’t struggle when it comes to finding dates, and he never did—having had his fair share of flings since leaving home for college.
Back then though, you were just Jungkook’s little sister—cute, shy, a little quirky, and though he always had a soft spot for you, he couldn’t have predicted what would happen in the years to follow.
How you’d get with your first boyfriend and start hanging out with him instead of following Taehyung and Jungkook everywhere. How you’d leave for college and Taehyung would come to realize how much he had enjoyed having you around, how much he missed you. How he’d finally come to accept his feelings, like a man sentenced to walk the plank, because you’re off-limits in every sense of the term.
But those damned feelings make it impossible for him to think about anyone else. He could be balls deep inside one of his gorgeous hook-ups, a girl who he really liked, admired, and he’d still see your face when he closed his eyes.
And of course, the guilt is still there, lingering.
But kissing you feels right, and he’s far too weak of a man to stop himself now, not when you’re squirming underneath him like this.
His only complaint—he wishes it didn’t have to happen like this, in an abandoned parking lot. His legs are cramped in the backseat of his beaten-up Camaro, and he’s starting to sweat as the windows fog up. Options are limited though, when both of you are temporarily visiting home, staying with your parents for the summer before you go back to school and Taehyung starts his new job in the city.
And if you mind the setting, you don’t show it.
“I want more, Taehyung,” you tell him, in between stolen breaths. “Please, I’m ready.”
He’s pleasantly surprised by just how comfortable you’re acting with him, vocalizing so openly like this. Gone is that timid girl he once knew so well; you’re now a grown woman with needs, and he’s more than willing to provide.
“I’ll eat you out first,” is his response, and he can feel himself grow harder at the simple thought. “You said he never did it properly, right?”
Biting your rouged lower lip, you nod. “He only did it once—or twice, maybe? He just—he didn’t like doing it.”
Taehyung’s jaw drops, and your response comes instantly—you shy away from him, averting your gaze as your cheeks flush with warmth.
“I mean, maybe I don’t taste good down there or something—”
“Stop, Y/N,” he says, voice dropping a few octaves unwittingly. Gently lifting your chin with two fingers, he forces you to meet his eyes. “He was selfish, that’s it. That’s all it is.”
Cautiously, he reaches for your thighs, watching your reaction as his fingers slowly trail up to your panties.
You shiver slightly under his touch, but your expression remains anticipatory, cautiously eager.
Still, he stops when he reaches the lace cloth decorating your waistband. “I need you to say it, Y/N. Do you want me to eat you out?”
Your response is a small but unequivocal nod. “Yeah. Please.”
Taehyung struggles a little, maneuvering his frame in the small space to access your cunt, but he’s too eager to care about his temporary discomfort. Not bothering to remove your skirt, he tosses it over your waist before giving you one last look.
“Just relax, okay? I’ve got you.”
You nod, settling back into the seat, your hair splayed around your face in a halo. And though you’re still biting your lip, your eyes are earnest, curious, and Taehyung has to resist the urge to give you another kiss.
Too intimate, he decides. Too much, too soon.
Instead, he delicately pulls at the sparse fabric clothing your sex, dipping his head right into the apex of your thighs.
You’re gorgeous down there, because of course you are, and Taehyung can feel his resolve crumbling already. You’re dripping with arousal that glosses your folds, and it taunts him—he’s certain he could slide right in and stretch you out the way you deserve.
But this is about you, and he has no problem with that.
“You’re so pretty,” he hums, though the sentence is clipped by his lips impatiently meeting the crease of your thighs.
Your toes curl in response, and he gently rubs at your thighs to calm you, peppering a trail of kisses to your folds.
He’s delicate at first, testing your responses as he swipes his tongue over your slit. You squirm slightly, but your hips chase after him, eager for more. Encouraged, he pushes your legs further apart, lapping at the abundant slick that marks your arousal.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, relishing in the heady taste. “You taste so sweet, baby.”
The term of endearment falls from his lips unnoticed, but you don’t miss it.
You believe him when he says he’ll take care of you—unequivocally, wholeheartedly.
“Taehyung,” you beg, looking up at him with imploring eyes. “Can you please make me cum?”
You don’t have to ask twice.
It doesn’t take long before he has you writhing beneath him, begging for release amidst moans of pleasure. He’s never been this determined to please someone before, but somehow, he doesn’t even need to try.
It’s instinct, the way he navigates your body, devours you, chasing the sweet little whimpers you’re making with ministrations from his tongue. You’re putty in his hands, grinding into his face desperately—which only prompts him to tighten his grip so he can pin your legs apart.
Perhaps he’s selfish, but he wants your pleasure to be from him, only him.
It’s when he sucks at your clit, lathing the swollen flesh with a mix of his saliva and your own essence, that the coil finally snaps.
You let out a faint, breathless cry of his name, back arching as your climax sends a ripple down your spine.
He’s relentless as the wave washes over you, savoring your taste on his tongue until you’re trembling from overstimulation.
And then he waits, patiently, for your verdict. But he certainly doesn’t expect—
“Please fuck me.”
He blinks at you, with a blank, dumb expression.
“Please,” you repeat, breathlessly. “Will you?”
Your voice is transparently needy, so plainly vulnerable—and god, it scares him a little—how badly he wants to be the one who keeps you safe, takes care of you.
He hesitates for a moment, and it’s a moment too long.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you swiftly retract your request, rushing to pick up your tossed panties from the floor of the car. “I just thought maybe—”
“Are you sure?” he interrupts you, prompting you to look up at him with quiet, guileless eyes. “Once we start, I might not be able to stop, and this...this isn’t how I wanted it to happen.”
Unbeknownst to him, your heart skips a beat at the fact that he’s thought about this before, those naive adolescent affections flooding back to you.
“I do,” you tell him, gently sitting up to meet his eyes. “I want you.”
It’s a bruising kiss, one met halfway between your lips, as you climb onto his lap to straddle him. He fumbles around blindly to find the center console, fishing for a condom while you take to his neck, eagerly painting a trail of purple onto his sensitive skin.
You sink onto his cock a few moments later, mewling as your velvet heat stretches to accommodate his girth.
And for a few seconds, Taehyung is simply in awe of the fact that he’s there, that you’re letting him inside of you—that your ex ever let you slip through his fingers.
You rock into him slowly at first, grinding your hips into his with a sated whimper (perhaps the prettiest sound he’s ever heard).
This is paradise on Earth, with the view of your gorgeous tits haphazardly spilling from your bra, neck and collarbones exposed for him to decorate, your lips available to kiss in between slow, harmonized thrusts.
And with your walls pulsing around him, begging to milk him dry, it’s not a surprise that he doesn’t last long.
“Let me finish you off,” he pleads anxiously, as his dick goes limp inside you. “I’ll eat you out again.”
You shake your head.
“I’m fine,” you assure him, and he’s too worried about disappointing you to appreciate the fact that you’re still kissing him—softly, tenderly, cupping his jaw as you do. “My parents are expecting me home anyways.”
The two of you stay that way, for what could be a few hours, or just as easily a few seconds—in each others’ arms, half-undressed, and neither of you mention the fact that you’re just kissing.
Gently, with no opportunity for escalation, no expectations.
There’s one thing on his mind as he drives you back home, before parking a safe few yards from your home to bid you farewell. And it takes him those full ten minutes to muster up the courage to say the words.
“Would you want to do this again sometime?”
You meet his gaze timidly, as if to gauge whether or not he’s being sincere, and a pregnant pause fills the air as you search his eyes.
With a soft breath, “I’d like that,” you admit.
The rush Taehyung feels is instant, though his breath hitches as he attempts to vocalize his follow up. There are ten years of history and good memories at stake, not to mention a triangle of relationships, and he finds himself balking uncharacteristically.
You linger for a moment, waiting patiently for him to continue, but after a few seconds of silence pass, you figure the childhood fantasy was meant to stay that way.
The moment your fingers brush against the door handle, though—
You quirk your head towards him. “Uh...sorry?”
“Dinner,” he repeats, swallowing thickly. “How about having dinner before? Next time. You and me,” he stumbles, gracelessly.
Your eyes widen a fraction, and he’s already kicking himself, prepared to let the ground swallow him up. But you continue simply with, “What about Jungkook?”
Your expression is nervous, anticipant, as if maybe you’re hoping he’ll say what he wants to say.
“I’ll talk to him,” is what Taehyung can reasonably offer. “If...you’d like me to, that is.”
When he looks back up at you, there’s a hint of a shy smile ghosting over your lips, and that’s enough to have his heart soaring.
“We can talk to him together.”
Trying to play down the fireworks of ecstasy that are going off in his chest, he gives you a nod, with a smile he hopes doesn’t look as dopey as it feels.
Your skirt swishes behind you as you make your way up the steps to your house, hair bouncing in the scrunchie you have it tied up in.
And when you pause before reaching for the doorknob, turning back around to shyly blow him a little kiss—he’s certain.
He’s a goner.
2K notes · View notes
A Proper Breeding
Summary: After allowing inner turmoil to take over, you finally decide that you have wanted the same thing as Bucky all along. Once you let him know, he is sure to give you a proper breeding.
Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Breeding Kink / Protected & Unprotected Sex / Oral Sex (Female Receiving) / Praise & Dirty Talk / Pregnancy Discussion / Slight Scent Kink
Word Count 2380
The Avengers Masterlist
At the sound of Maria’s voice, your eyebrow raises in confusion and a hum of uncertainty follows.
“You and Bucky went on vacation. How did it go? How was the baby-making session?”
“Baby...making? Maria, we went on vacation. To relax. How many times do I need to tell you that—“
“Yes, I know. You aren’t ready but is Bucky? That’s the next important question.”
“Well, he’s brought it up. I just...”
“You don’t want them? Or you don’t want them with him?”
“How can you even say that?”
Her hands raise in apology and prompt you to continue.
“Bucky would make a great father. It's amazing to watch how his eyes light up when he talks about having them. Sometimes, I think he even surprises himself with how much he wants kids.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“Me. I just don’t think I’d be a good parent. Plus we’re busy, you know, saving the world.” Your hand waves, drawing attention to the fact that you both sit in the training room.
“I’m sure the world would understand you being selfish for once in your life. You both deserve it. Don’t let this pass you by (Y/N). Promise me you’ll think seriously about it, not halfheartedly like you’ve been doing. If you really aren’t comfortable with it, I’m sure Bucky will understand.”
The conversation is dropped after that, but it doesn’t leave your mind. It’s not an easy topic for you to reflect on. Before falling in love with Bucky and your subsequent marriage, you tried not to think about it much. Instead, it usually would sneak up on you with a ghostly touch and linger late into the night to keep you up. Bucky isn’t the only one with burdens to bear. You, too, have your own demons that are always eager to drag you back into the darkest parts of your past. It’s one of the reasons you closed off the possibility of starting a family.
Now, the thoughts are with you always. Like a heavy veil, they coat your entire being, body, mind, and soul. You can’t escape them. During meetings, training, and even while on missions, the inner turmoil follows but never more so than when you are with Bucky.
“You look amazing. Got all dolled up just for me, gorgeous?” Bucky licks his lips, watching as the way your chest bounces, barely contained within the black lacy cups of your bra. Your nipples strain against the fabric and sometimes peek beyond the ridges before slipping back into place. The friction causes them to become taunt and sensitive.
With a serpentine grace, calloused fingers sneak their way between your bodies and seek out your treasured pearl. You exhale a soft whimper when Bucky’s fingertips circle the bud. Once. Twice. Pressing down on it. A sizzling jolt runs up your spine. As if pressed against a hot coil, you arch away, panting and sweaty. A firm grip keeps your hips in place, not allowing you to escape.
“Look at you. You make such beautiful faces when you’re about to cum.”
A rush of pleasure hits you hard. Your pussy convulses, wanting to milk him for all he’s worth. He works you through your orgasm. The push and pull of his cock against your walls spurs a pitiful wail from your lungs.
“That’s it, (Y/N). Come on. F-Fuck. I can feel you clenching around me. You want it, don’t you?”
“So desperate.” He chuckles against your flushed cheek. He noses your jaw, taking in your scent, which is mixed with the musky smell of sex that hangs in the air.
Your eyes pinch close as he sheathes himself within your warmness again. Each time he splits you open, you wonder how it would feel to have him fucking you with no barrier, to actually feel him. There is a distance between you, one of your own making. It parallels the physical barrier that separates the two of you at your most intimate point.
“I’m so close.”
You moan in return to his declaration, urging him towards his end. Fingers threading through his brown locks, you take in the angles of his blissful face. Would your children have his sharp jawline? Would your children have his eyes? Would they be as deep and emotive as his ocean blues?
Bucky shudders above you, muttering your name with a heavy exhale. His head drops from your grasp and nuzzles into the crux of your neck as he cums. A lust-drunk smile greets you when he finally lifts his head. It’s hard not to return the gesture. And although it does not meet your eyes, it’s enough to ward off any comment from him.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, James. I hope you know that.”
“I know, doll. You tell me every day.”
You watch through hazy eyes as Bucky rids himself of the condom, disposing of it in the small bin next to the bed. There is something about the process you hate now. Never having given it a thought before, it nags at your mind. The emptiness you feel is so hard to overcome. Why does it bother you so much now?
Returning to you, Bucky tucks his body against yours. Skin against skin, you stick to one another, sharing the warmth and comfort. Yet even with him so close, you feel a million miles apart. Mentally, you traverse a winding road of uncertainty.
“Of course. I’m just tired. You know how to wear a girl out.”
“Aren’t you a smooth talker?”
Heavy limbs and tired eyes become too much to fight. You give up the internal debate for now and instead succumb to the temptation of sleep.
While you compelled the nagging thoughts away long enough last night to get sleep, your inner turmoil comes back to trouble you this morning.
Bucky seems to sense your apprehensive attitude. All-day he’s been hovering like a vulture after its next meal. Questions are constantly laid upon you, and by the evening, you are exasperated by their frequency. Much to his frustration, you are actively avoiding your husband. The task is made easier with the help of Natasha and Maria, who tut about helping you prepare for the extravagant Avengers gala being held.
“But I need to ask her something…”
“You can ask later. Right now, (Y/N) is coming with us.”
Any reprieve, you thought the party would bring is quickly washed away. Bucky continues to track you down. He’s relentless in his need to understand the cause of your aloofness. In turn, you dodge his advances, weaving through the crowd each time you realize he’s on your trail. Not one to give up, Bucky stalks you through the sea of people. As if unconsciously knowing he is on the hunt, individuals part, easing his route towards you, and aiding him in catching you off guard.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” You gasp. Your heart feels like it has leapt into your throat when he settles on the chair next to you.
“You’re avoiding me.”
As the Avengers group joins you both, his chance at further investigation concludes, and he bristles. You feel his eyes on you every few minutes but try not to let it show. Instead, you focus on Clint as he begins detailing the joys of Nathaniel taking his first steps. Merriment and awe seep from his story, becoming infectious and warming the heart of all those listening. Taking a glance at the man to your right, you catch the corners of his mouth curling upward.
Your hand snakes under the table, seeking out one of Bucky's hands. You lace your fingers with his own. Your palms press together in a comfortable fit. Eyebrows pinched in confusion, he gives you a questioning look. With a shake of your head and a warm smile, you silently reassure him that all is okay. He is even more perplexed when you stand and excuse yourselves from the table.
“Doll, what are you doing? Where are we going?”
“I need you. Now.” You mumble, dragging him down a hallway and into a spare bedroom.
As soon as the lock clicks in place, you are all over him. Hunger and lust fuel your kiss. Like a woman starved, you crave him, need him. Your desire has reached a fever pitch, and if he does nothing to satisfy it, you will surely explode. Fingers tangle in his clothes, clumsily undressing him. He follows suit, ripping at the materials concealing your body from his view.
“(Y/N), we don’t have any protection.”
His dress pants slacken around his waist, and your hand dives between the layers of cloth, finding his hard and weeping length. Palming him, you hum in appreciation of its size.
“Fuck, doll. If we keep going, I won’t be able to stop.”
You kiss him again, swallowing his husky groans. Tumbling onto the bed, he lands atop you. His weight presses you into the mattress. His lips move along the column of your neck, sucking occasionally and leaving deep red marks on your skin. Your senses are on fire. Every place he touches is set alight. You’re unsure if you can withstand the onslaught as his tongue glides between the valley of your breasts. He makes no hesitation, passing them by and continuing onto his final destination. While his tongue gives them no attention, his fingers flick your perky buds. Strumming at them, he tugs and twists them. You shiver, and the fine hairs on your body stand on end.
As heated breath fans over your mound, you chance a look down. Your eyes are met with a smirk and dazzlingly blue eyes filled with mischief. He wants to ensure you are watching as he eats you out. It’s one of his favorite things. Rising onto your elbow, you try to concentrate on him. But after the first few licks, you can no longer support yourself. You writhe beneath him, hips slithering around in a sensual gyration. He hums as you buck against his mouth in earnest. Fingers dip into your entrance teasingly, petting the walls of your pussy.
“Taste so sweet. Like honey. I could eat you out all night.”
“Please, I need more. I need you.”
“What do you want? You want my cock? Tell me.”
Your fingers claw at the sheets in frustration, “Please, Buck. Please. I want you to fuck me. I need it!” Your words come out in a high pitched squeal as he latches onto your clit. Slurping and sucking at it, he chuckles at how you chant his name.
“If you need it so bad, I’ll give it to you. I’m not gonna be gentle, doll. You understand?”
“Yes. Yes. Please.”
Once you have acknowledged his warning, he flips you over hastily and grips your hips, forcing you face-down on the bed. His cock presses against your hole, and without caution, he gives one easy stroke to enter you. A silent cry bubbles in your throat as he bottoms out, stretching you fully and forcing you to accommodate his size.
There is no gentleness in his thrusts. They are forceful, rapid, and raw. The sound of skin slapping is only matched by the incessant squelch of your core. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as he pounds into you. You can already feel the bruises forming, but they only add to the experience.
“You like this? You like me using this pretty little pussy?”
“Mmmhm,” You can't form words. The rational portion of your brain has turned off, leaving you a broken mess.
“I’m gonna cum.” His pace has become broken. There is a slight stutter in the movement of his pelvis, “I’m goin’ to pull out. Where do you want it?”
“No. Don’t...I want you to cum inside.”
He makes a choked throaty noise of disbelief at your statement, “Baby, don’t play.”
“I’m not. I want you to fill me.” You mewl like a desperate slut, “ I want you to breed me, James.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds, and you wonder if you overstepped. You contemplate if you were wrong in your assessment of his desire for a family. All those thoughts are quieted when a cold hand grips the back of your neck and shoves you face-first into the mattress.
“You want me to breed you? Fill you with my seed?”
You can do nothing but nod vehemently and whimper pathetically. With renewed vigor, Bucky restarts his thrusting. His cock strikes deeper than before. The tip kisses your cervix on each entry and scrapes along your walls on the exit. Your muscles convulse around him, milking and begging him to paint your insides white.
“You’re gonna be so full of me for hours. For days. Every chance I get, I’m gonna be balls deep in your cunt. Filling you to the brim.”
Your body quakes and tears stream down your face as your orgasm suffocates you. Every breath you take is labored, and your heart beats erratically.
“P-Please. Need it. Please give me a baby.” Your soft cry is the final straw. He gives you a few more thrusts. One... Two... Three. On the fourth, he forces his cock within you, resting it at your most inner barrier, and unloads. Your vision goes white-hot as your pussy is coated in his cum. You clench around him, wanting everything he has to offer. You babble, encouraging him to make sure it takes. Answering your pleas for proper breeding, his hips move in small ruts, forcing his seed to stay inside
Drained of energy, he collapses on top of and basking in the aftermath of his high, he kisses your shoulder, “You okay?”
“Perfect. So full and warm.”
“(Y/N), are you sure you want this?” There is a nervousness in his voice but also a twinge of hopeful optimism. With his cock still firmly plugging you, he rolls onto his back and pulls you with him. He asks a second time, eying your reaction.
You kiss him before you answer, hoping to quell his nerves, “I’ve never wanted something more. I want this for us. I want a family with you.”
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Tagging The Lovelies: @am3l1a-24 @reborn-rekall @efferuse @brithedemonspawn @smokeandnailz @cantmakesunflowersplits @little-baby-vixen @ajeff855 @peggycarter-steverogers @adoreyou976 @mcolbz14 @annikathebananana @laic2299 @mika-dannielle
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“The chilly bite in the morning air.” w/ kirishima plss. i need some cute kiri content rn :((
thanks for participating in my spooky season special, sage!! I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with ♡
𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | kirishima eijirou + gn reader
⇢ genre: fluff | light swearing. no other content warnings!
⇢ word count: 650
⇢ notes: title from “apple cider” by beabadoobee; the song heavily inspired this drabble! check out the follow-up drabble here ♡
please do not repost any of my work! this includes translation, reposting with credit, etc. if you see my work posted on another platform, please report it. thank you!
We both like apple cider...
Halloween morning has a distinct frigidity. It’s a crisp, biting center rolled up in a candied coating of glee and distinct spooky-fueled eagerness. The leaves are loud underfoot and in the street. Steam from your hot cider floats up from the cup in your hands, the vapor unfurling in fat curls.
“Damn, it’s kinda cold, isn’t it?”
You chuckle as Eijirou takes his seat beside you on the front steps.
“Hence why I stole this,” you say, holding your arm out to flaunt the hoodie (read: his hoodie) that you’d snatched. “I happen to be pretty warm.”
He laughs, nudging you with his elbow. “Oh, to be cold for your sake.”
Giggling, you lower your head onto his shoulder. Your heart flutters when he anchors his arm around you, and the subtle, fruity scent of body wash you had in your shower lingers on his skin and hair.
But your hair be smelling like fruit punch...
Today is the first holiday since you two started seeing each other, so, in addition to the usual excitement, you’re buzzing with anticipation for the evening to come—for spending it with him.
Eijirou slides his hand over yours, enveloping it entirely in his larger one, and then plucks the warm cup of cider from your hand. Ignoring your whines of protest, he takes a few careful sips and sets it down on the porch just beyond your reach.
“Oh, did you want that?” he asks impishly, grinning down at you.
Pouting, you squirm to reach across him for the cup, but he holds you easily in place, only pushing you closer to his chest.
“Eiji, you’re so mean, I could have made you some. Or you could have at least asked.”
“But you wouldn’t be pouting if I’d done those things, and you’re just so cute when you pout.”
Eyebrow cocked playfully, he looks down, still grinning, and brings his face close to yours. The air between you is warm even as the brisk wind passes through. Eijirou closes his eyes a little and brushes your nose with his; your breath hitches. Still pouting, you surge forward to peck his lips.
Once you pull back, you reprimand him in a whisper: “You can’t steal my drink and tease me.”
And I don't even like you that much...
He chuckles, leaning in for another more substantial kiss. His kisses are always sweet and earnest and gentle like he’s stealing licks of a lollipop, and each one leaves you wanting more. Luckily for you, Eijirou’s kisses also always come in strings; one after the other, each longer than the one before.
“Does that make up for it?” he asks softly.
Before you can reply, he turns and brings the cup of cider to your lips, holding the back of your head to give you a drink. After swallowing a few warm mouthfuls, you pull away and sit up as much as you can—finding yourself still locked in his grasp.
“You’re forgiven, I think.”
Humming, you tilt your head back and shrug. “Not sure.”
He leans close and ghosts his mouth over yours again, making you giggle, and you take his face in both hands.
“Not sure?” he breathes. “If you don’t forgive me, who am I gonna dress up with tonight, hm?”
“You should have thought of that.”
The wind picks up again, and you shiver.
“Let’s get inside, baby. Can’t have you getting sick,” Eijirou says, untangling from you. Once you’re up, he rubs his hands along your arms as you head inside. “There you go.”
You look up at him, letting out a squeak of surprise when he steals one final kiss on his way to the kitchen. Heart fluttering, you watch after him and feel the warmth returning to your extremities. You hadn’t even noticed it’d gotten so chilly.
Wait, I do, fuck.
spooky season event navi| bnha m.list | ko-fi | ao3
𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional.
my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License
all rights reserved © by 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐬𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is prohibited.
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FEVER-DREAM ; echo/reader
summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.
word count: 3k
pairing: echo / f!reader
tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star
a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.
i reference character redesigns by @nibeul in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough.
“How does it feel?”
The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway.
His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use.
When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.
For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet.
He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.
There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives.
Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing.
No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika.
In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.
This makes him feel... good.
He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.
Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.
(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky.
Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.
The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)
“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”
Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.
You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.
“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.
Echo feels small under your gaze.
Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.
In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin.
His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.
That damn thing.
A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough.
It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.
Echo catches it.
His eyes narrow playfully.
He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.
You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.
You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto.
It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.
“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.
“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.
“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.
The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.
“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”
You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”
“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.
A baited trick. He’s smiling.
The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.
“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.
The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.
“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.
His laugh is warm.
“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”
There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.
Then, you remember the task at hand.
You clear your throat.
“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”
Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized.
Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.
Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now.
“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep.
Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin.
In his lap, both his hands twitch.
He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.
You don’t press him on the details.
In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.
In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.
Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.
You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link.
After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.
“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”
Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”
“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile.
Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.
There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.
You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”
Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak.
“...Same as before.”
You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”
It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.
He can feel.
His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.
Your breath catches at the touch.
Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed.
The closeness itself is making you dizzy.
Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.
Your skin is hot.
“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.
You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.
He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.
The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you.
You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation.
Your mouth is moving before you realize it.
“What does it mean?”
Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.
“What does what mean?”
“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”
The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.
You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.
“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.
It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.
His nose brushes yours.
Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.
You want to kiss him.
He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.
And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...
“Echo, we’re back—!”
The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way.
You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.
You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”
“...Whatcha guys doin’?”
Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”
You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact.
“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”
“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”
Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right.
“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”
“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.
You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”
Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.
“...What the kriff was that?”
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— title; you love him (the story still ends).
— pairing; crepus ragnvindr x reader (platonic diluc ragnvindr x reader, platonic kaeya alberich x reader)
— summary; in which your son’s birthday is spent at his father’s grave.
— notes; happy birthday, diluc !
Grave markers checkerboard the hillsides, rising above you with only huge old trees breaking up the expanse of lawn. Stone angels, cherubim, and lambs kneel, guard or pray by headstones. Some are so worn that they’re missing the tops of wings or hands, smoothed and softened by the elements. There are newer, shinier markers with etchings of faces, names, or personal things.
Bearing a wicker basket and a bouquet of Cecilias, your footfalls are slow and measured as you weave your way among the headstones, a granite and marble garden which seems to have sprung from the earth.
Your husband’s headstone is made of simple silver stone, which glitters faintly in the late afternoon sunlight. Crepus Ragnvindr. Beloved husband and father.
“Hello, darling.” You say, managing a smile through the sudden well of tears. Your white-knuckled grip around the basket trembles, and your breath catches in your throat. “I’ve come to pay you a visit.”
You place the flowers at the foot of his grave. The heat of the day brings them to their strongest essence, and the open blossoms are spilling out perfume. You open the wicker basket next, revealing a bottle of cider and a homemade chocolate cake, still warm from the oven. Crepus had loved your cooking, had fallen upon it with an eagerness that had always made you feel warm inside.
“I love you.”
You can still remember the last time you’d seen your husband. You’d watched him leave with your son. You remember exchanging a few meaningless remarks with him, Crepus promising that he would be back in time for dinner, and your answering laugh as you’d swatted at him playfully with the kitchen towel. You’ve always been haunted by the ordinariness of that conversation. You figure the last time you ever see somebody, something of significance should be said. But your husband exited your life with a quick smile and a long, lingering kiss, with a reminder to lock the door so that you would be safe while he was gone.
“Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still see you smiling.” Your voice breaks. “You always did have such a beautiful smile. I can still remember the day we were married. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. You were so handsome standing there, and I swear the entire world slowed down the moment I saw you. And oh, the way you were looking at me when I started walking down the aisle –”
There at the end, your words jumble up and clog your throat. A warm tear slides down your cheek. You have to inhale, swallowing down the lump clogging your throat.
“Our boys are doing fine. They’re so beautiful, and so healthy. They’re both keeping Mond safe, you know. We raised them well. You would be so, so proud of them.” Please keep them safe. Your heart constricts painfully in your chest. Cold stone presses against your skin, a poor substitute for the warmth of his skin and his embrace. Everything in you feels torn to pieces, and you know that any further loss will truly break you, and there will be no coming back. “Oh, look, there come our boys now.”
Diluc is the first to reach you, and his purposeful strides carry him quickly to your side. The day of his birth will forever be tainted by this loss, and you have to hold back the tears from falling again, this time in earnest. This close, you can see his father in him, in the fullness of his mouth and the square shape of his jaw. But there is anger in him, more anger than his father has ever known.
He bends, presses a kiss to your cheek, guilt flashing in his eyes for the briefest of seconds as he sees the wetness on your cheeks. “Mother.”
Kaeya arrives shortly after. He’s a far cry from the small wisp of boy that your husband had brought home one stormy night, underfed and malnourished. Now, he’s tall and vibrant and healthy, and his bright blue eye, usually sparkles with good humour, is unusually solemn.
Kaeya also drops a quick kiss onto your cheek, his voice softer than a sigh. “Mom.”
Your face melts into a smile. It’s broken, trembling at the edges, but it’s still a smile. No surprise, no questions, just love.
“My boys are here.” You say, and you open your arms.
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Heat of the Moment
Pairing: Tobio Kageyama x Reader (College AU)
Rating: Explicit (18+ minors do not interact)
Warnings: virgin!Kageyama, sex, virgin sex, nipple play, condom sex, Y'all it's pretty tame ok. It's wholesome sex
Word Count: 2.6K
a/n: HERE IT IS CEE! @spacelabrathor I PROMISED YOU A KAGS FIC AND IT'S HERE. Here he is in all his cute, dumb, awkward, blunt (but still a fucking prodigy at everything he does) glory! ALSO FOR YOU some Atsumu slander bahahah. (No one come for me I love Atsumu but like... come on, mans is a little asshole) ANYWHOO This is supposed to serve as a little continuation to my first Kags fic So I hope you enjoy! Also s/o to my love @dymphnasprose for always dropping sweet yummy Tobio thirsts in my DMs and making me absolutely feral for this man. I love you forever baybeeee
“I want to have sex.”
He’s decided, made up his mind, the decision is final, no more going back and forth. Steely blue eyes gauge your very surprised expression as you lay on your belly on his bed, feet kicking the air as you read a book. Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in your boyfriend’s expression.
“What?” you ask, chuckling and pulling yourself up to sit and give him your full attention.
“I want to have sex with you.” He repeats it, confident and reassured that it is exactly what he wants as he looks into your eyes. When you raise a questioning brow, he stomps over to the bed to sit beside you and place a hand on the small of your back.
“Tobio, is this about what Atsumu said last week?”
You know how much Atsumu is able to get under his skin. He teases him constantly about being a virgin after Tobio accidently and drunkenly let it slip that he hadn’t done anything with you other than heavy petting and heated make out sessions. Atsumu has teased him since then, making jokes about one day stealing you from him so you could be with someone with experience. As if you’d leave Tobio for Atsumu. Yeah right.
“You know I’d never leave you for him, right?” you say looking into his eyes with a worried expression. His cobalt eyes gleam back at you, getting momentarily lost in your beauty before he scowls again.
“It has nothing to do with that piss-haired loser!” he says defensively. He knows you wouldn’t leave him, especially not for Atsumu, but he can admit—only to himself—something else Atsumu said is what helped him make his decision.
There’s nothing better than seeing a woman come undone around you. You look at her face and see her pleasure and know it’s all because of you and you feel invincible.
Tobio swallows hard when he pictures for the fifth time tonight your face twisted in pleasure. You gasping and moaning his name like the woman in the porn he watched for reference last night. His hand moves to rub your back seductively and his expression softens.
He really does love you, you’ve put up with so many of his mood swings, supported him at every game, even helped him with homework is some of his toughest classes.
“I just want to be able to make you feel good. I know you’ve had sex with other guys before me, but I wanna be the one who made you feel the best.”
You crawl into his lap, straddling his muscular thighs and draping your arms around his neck to plop a kiss onto his surprised lips. The tiny lounge shorts dig into your thigh as you look at him through your lashes and he digs his fingers into your plump ass. He intakes a breath when you grind on the bulge in his pants and his eyes grow wide.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” you say, a sultry smile working it’s way onto your face. “But I won't say no to you trying.”
You kiss him, grasping his silky jet black locks and plunging your tongue into his mouth. Both his large hands grasp your ass as you grind down harder on the growing bulge in his pants.
Tobio always gets a boner when the two of you make out, but to feel how warm you are and how close your pussy is to his dick, it makes him grunt into your mouth. He leans back on the bed, flopping onto his back as he holds your waist and balances you atop of him.
You continue kissing him, purring and humming against his lips, and when you pull back to look him in the eye, a string of spit keeps the two of you connected. He looks at you in earnest, biting his lip and trying to focus on your pretty face instead of the ache in his shorts.
“Ok so should I fuck you now? Why are our clothes still on?” He asks with complete seriousness and you snort. Your world shines brighter due to his absolute lack of tact, and he frowns when he thinks you’re making fun of him.
“What?” he grumbles.
“That’s something Atsumu won’t tell you, probably because he sucks at it. There’s a beautiful thing called foreplay and you’re going to learn it,” you say as you smile against his lips and run your hand down his chest.
“From a woman no less, which means…you’ll already be ahead of the game.” You grind your hips down upon him again and he’s too late to stop the groan that tumbles from his pink lips.
You smirk then roll to the side to move off of him and he rises up in shock, eyes wide and worried. But he holds his breath when he sees you standing and removing your shirt and shorts before you look over your shoulder at him.
“Well, I can’t be the only one undressed.”
Tobio quickly sheds his shirt and shorts, sitting clad only in his tight compression underwear on the bed. He stares at your bra and underwear, eyes drinking in every deep curve, the swell of your breast, and how the thin twine of the straps of your thong sit on your hips.
His fingers fist into the sheets of the bed and his cock twitches at the mere sight of you. He can’t remember how he got so lucky but he smiles smugly to himself when he pictures the surprised look on Atsumu’s face when he finds out.
You tiptoe over to him sitting on the edge of the bed and push his thighs apart to stand between them. He wraps an arm around your waist and cranes his neck to look up at you. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead. His long fingers trace down the curve of your back and you sigh at his touch. He places his forehead against your stomach and closes his eyes.
“Your skin is so soft. I want to kiss it,” he mumbles. You chuckle as you continue rubbing his hair.
“So why don’t you?” He opens his eyes and obliges, placing his lips against your stomach. You sigh again as he kisses down your stomach and stops at the hem of your underwear. His hands are on your hips now, digging into your skin and fiddling with the straps of your panties. He’s so eager, the excitement he usually saves for the volleyball court oozing out of him as his piercing gaze asks you for permission.
You give a curt nod and he loops his long fingers through the skimpy string of your panties and slowly pulls them down your legs. When you’ve stepped out of them and he’s face to face with your pussy, he gasps in amazement. He takes a few moments to look over you, his hands running up your thigh before he continues his path of kisses from your stomach down to your clit. He stops suddenly when you whimper and his eyes are wide with panic.
“Sorry, is that bad?” he asks in a small voice. You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you open them to see his eyes panic stricken expression. You rub his hair gently and give him a reassuring smile.
“Nope, it’s actually really really good. Aren’t I the lucky one to get a guy who doesn’t have to be told to kiss my pussy,” you say laughing. Tobio smiles up at you as well, now more calm by your relaxing tone.
“Can’t help it when it’s that pretty.”
He pulls you down on top of him and you squeal as you straddle his waist. He lays on his back, massaging your hips as you mount him. You reach behind your back to unhook your bra and his eyes grow even wider as your tits fall. You always knew Tobio was a boob guy, but the way he’s looking at you now, mouth slightly agape as he licks his lips, definitely cements that fact.
His cock twitches in his underwear and you give him a quick kiss before shimmying down his body to free him from his cotton prison. You’ve never seen Tobio naked before. You’ve felt his impressive length through his pants when you two have fooled around and fantasized about how pretty it would be when you finally witnessed it but like always with Tobio, it's better than you expected.
He’s not too long but he’s quite thick. He's already dripping precum and it leaks onto his belly when it pops free; the tip is a beautiful plush pink that matches the flush of his skin when he sees you staring hungirly at it.
When you bring it to your lips and lick the tip, he groans loudly and clutches the sheets on the bed tightly. “Wait…I almost…” he grunts through his teeth. You look up at him apologetically. A blowjob probably isn’t the best idea for his first time, but you definitely make a mental note to suck him off some time soon. The man’s cock is way too pretty not to be in your mouth.
“Sorry,” you say before moving back up his body to kiss him passionately. He grunts into your mouth as you bite his lips. His hands tangle in your hair and he ruts against your ass in anticipation. When he moves to bite your neck you moan and whisper his name.
“S’okay. I wanna...suck…” he grunts, pawing at your breast as he nibbles and licks your neck. He sounds like he’s asking permission and you breathe out a quick, “yes” before rising up to sit on his lap.
You can feel his heart speed up, thrumming underneath you as he raises and pulls your body flush to his. You feel his long lashes flutter against your chest before he latches to your nipple and groans deeply. You’re not sure how he knows exactly what to do but your pussy grows wetter with every flick of his tongue on your skin.
“Mmm Tobio, you’re so good at that,” you moan and you can tell he likes the praise. He flexes his hips up into you, grinding against your ass and you moan again desperately as blood pumps straight to your cunt.
Tobio continues licking and sucking your nipples, moving from each one to give them equal amounts of attention, but when he bites down and sucks like he’s pulling something from you, you throw your head back in bliss, a loud shrill whimper bursting from you.
You’re ready now, your body vibrating with anticipation. You push him to flop on his back again, lean over to open the desk drawer, and grab a condom. You quickly rip it open with your teeth, pull it out in one quick motion and roll it slowly down his length.
He watches in amazement, you’re a pro at this. How on earth were you able to make opening a condom that sexy? You lock eyes with him now as you hover above his dick and his chest heaves up and down. He thinks once again about how lucky he is, how gorgeous you are, and how much he can’t wait to see your face when you’re coming on top of him.
“Don’t be nervous baby,” you purr as you line the tip up with your pussy. Even through the condom he can feel how warm you are, and he has to take deep breaths and focus on not finishing too early.
“Don’t you wanna make me feel good?”
He grits his teeth as you sink slowly down onto him. You spread around his length and he watches in awe as you take him. You both cry out when you’ve sunk all the way down on top of him and your walls are fluttering as you become accustomed to him.
Tobio’s eyes are squeezed shut, he’s panting trying desperately not to think about how fucking warm and tight you are. He can feel you clenching, feel you caress his cock and he can’t imagine how good it would feel if the condom weren’t between you two. His hands are digging into your hips, leaving marks as he concentrates on holding in the cum he wants to shoot into you.
“Shit…is it always like this?” He grunts as he looks up at the ceiling.
You chuckle as you run your hands up your body, massaging your own tits and pinching your nipples. You lean down to whisper in his ear.
“No, it’s even better without a condom,” you smirk and he gasps at the thought. You lift your hips then, placing your palms on his broad chest and balancing yourself to hover over the tip before plunging down onto him again.
You continue rocking your hips and bouncing on him and he swears he can see stars. He grunts and moans, gasping as you draw circles with your hips on his cock. He remembers how good you are at dancing and isn’t surprised at how well you ride him.
“Fuck...shit this feels so good,” he groans and momentarily open his eyes to watch your lovely face. Your eyes are lidded and you’re biting your lips in concentration, a seductive smile playing on the edge of your lips.
“You’re doing so well baby,” you coo. You’re impressed, he’s lasted far longer than you thought he would, but then again Tobio’s always had great stamina.
Your ass slaps against him, bobbing like the first time he saw you twerking and it only makes him buck up into you more. Your tits are bouncing as the room fills with the sultry sound of slapping skin. He bites his lip as he feels his insides tighten, a pressure building in him as your pace quickens.
Your moans are loud, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and when you whimper his name, it feels like he’s on the court. His instincts kick in and he flips you on your back. He pulls your body close to his and looks into your eyes before he plunges into you.
The new position allows him to hit an angle no guy you’ve been with has ever been able to hit and you cry out in ecstasy. He pumps into you desperately, kissing you and watching as your eyes start to roll to the back of your head. He feels so good inside you and he’s so close his arms and legs are starting to shake.
He watches as you bite your lip, scream his name and clench so hard around him he doesn’t have to be a pro to know you’ve just come. He smiles a cocky smile to himself before a guttural growl breaks from him and he spills a thick load of cum into the condom. So Atsumu was right about that. There’s nothing better than seeing you scream his name and watch you come undone because of him.
He stays embedded in you for a few minutes as both of you twitch and come down from your high. His head rests in your neck and when he’s finally caught his breath he flashes you a cocky smirk. You giggle and roll your eyes, not needing to hear him say anything.
“How the fuck did you do that?” you ask as he pulls out of you and removes the condom.
“I don’t know, my body moved on it’s own I guess,” he shrugs as you take the condom from him, tie the end and dispose of it. You kiss him on the lips and shake your head with a smile.
“Should’ve known you’d be a goddamn prodigy at it.”
Tobio pulls you back into his arms to hold you and bask in the after sex glow. He’d finally done it and he’d managed to get you to come too. A prodigy you’d called him. This was definitely something he’d “accidentally” share with Atsumu next time.
Thanks for reading!
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