#or maybe there's something else going on. maybe he feels entirely differently. hard to know when the game doesn't gaf about him! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xbellaxcarolinax · 11 months

Text

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something.

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken.

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel."

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for.

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration.

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring.

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me."

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you.

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch.

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708.

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda.

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.”

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.”

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.”

“Miguel, what the fuck—”

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.”

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?”

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.”

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?”

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?”

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal.

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count.

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you.

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side.

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat.

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste.

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core.

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo."

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass.

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had.

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

#spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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buckyalpine · 6 months

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Sharon calls you fat (pregnant reader)

I live for the angst where Sharon/people call reader fat and make fun of her not knowing she's pregnant and Bucky protects the ever living fuck out of her because that's his gorgeous babymama. Bonus when Sharon is a jealous hoe. Throw in some protective avengers in there too. Breeding kink? Pregnancy kink? Also yes. He's a feral, horny little shit here, I apologize.

You huffed as you buttoned your jeans, the waistband sitting snugly around your waist, pressing into your skin a little bit more than usual. You dug through the closet to find one of Bucky's hoodies to slip on, loving the way the soft material engulphed you in his scent.

You weren't showing much yet but your body was certainly changing. Your sense of smell was heightened, constantly craving to be surrounded by your boyfriends smell. Your breasts were growing heavier and your clothes were more fitting than before. Cravings had already started. Your cheeks were a tad fuller and you were certainly glowing.

Bucky's super soldier serum was no joke.

You made your way down to make something for breakfast, grabbing a bag of peppermint tea to help with some of the nausea you had been experiencing. Sharon sauntered into the kitchen, still clad in her tiny workout clothes as she went to the fridge to grab a water bottle.

"Hey Sharon" You smiled as you poured water into your mug while munching on a cookie, grabbing another when your tummy rumbled. Baby Barnes clearly took after daddy, craving anything and everything sweet. And salty. And sweet and salty.

"Hey y/n" Sharon's eyes looked at you up and down, cocking her head slightly while you snacked, rummaging around for something else to eat. "Might wanna cut down a little there, huh" She teased, nodding to the potato chip you popped into your mouth.

"What?" You weren't sure you heard correctly, setting down the bag while she pursed her lips.

"Oh, nothing. I don't know how you eat that stuff, it's so greasy"

"Hm, yeah I guess" You gave her a weak smile, her words causing the insecurities you were already feeling about your body to creep back up again. You had a heavy feeling in your chest, seeing her flit about the kitchen, still perfectly toned. You shook those thoughts away, remembering the reason beautiful your body was different but it didn't do much.

The words still stung.

You decided to make your way back to your room to wait for Bucky to return from his morning jog with Steve, passing by one of the new trainees as you left the kitchen. Their hushed whispers caused you to stop in your tracks, your stomach dropping when you heard what they were saying.

"She's getting fat" Sharon snorted, hardly noticing you weren't out of ear shot while the trainee giggled along with her, nodding in agreement.

"Oh my God, you should've seen her at the gym yesterday. She was breathing so hard while running on the treadmill, I thought she was going to pass out. I don't even think she lasted 5 minutes before calling it quits" The trainee replied while Sharon rolled her eyes.

"She's gonna looked like a beached whale if she keeps eating like that, I swear she finished the entire row single handedly"

"I don't get what Bucky is doing with her. Honestly, I'm not even complaining. If she gets any fatter he's gonna leave her so maybe that'll make it easier for me" Sharon cackled along with the girl, the both of them snickering while swooning over the soldier. "He's so hot. I don't get what the hell he's doing with her, he can do so much better. Just wait till I show him, he'll see what he's missed out on"

You hardly realized you'd broken down into tears, slapping a hand over your mouth to keep from sobbing. You ran to your shared bedroom as fast as you could before anyone else saw you, closing the door and instructing FRIDAY to keep everyone out. You threw your jeans off, hating the way they were tighter on you, curling up under the covers, muffling your cries into the pillow.

Bucky ran his fingers through his short locks, making his way to the kitchen to grab some water after his run, smiling to himself knowing how much you loved to slink around him whenever he worked out. He loved how needy and cuddly you were, always burying your face into his neck of chest, trying to crawl up him like a tree.

"Where are you babygirl" Bucky called for you, expecting to see you in the perched in the kitchen with your pepper mint tea you'd recently been relying on, only to find a full mug without you in sight. Sharon and the new agent were still there, both of them eyeing him up and down, hoping to get his attention.

"Hey Sarge-

"Have you seen y/n" Bucky cut Sharon off, still looking around for you. Sharon rolled her eyes again, stating she hadn't seen you at all, since she'd spend her own morning working out. Bucky frowned, picking up the still hot tea, taking it up as he made his way to the bedroom.

"Sweeheart?" Bucky called for you softly, his heart racing when he hard soft sniffles from the other side of the door, his anxiety spiking when the door was locked. "Baby, are you okay? Can you open the door please?"

You hiccupped, trying to calm yourself down hearing Bucky's worried voice, quickly wiping your face before getting out of bed to open the door for him. His heart broke seeing his sweet girl with red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks from crying, pulling you into him while shutting the door behind him.

"What's wrong mama" Bucky cooed, hugging you tightly while you whimpered in his hold, your insecurities at an all time high as he slipped his hand under your hoodie to stroke the bare skin of your back.

"Am I fat?" You whispered, worried the question would make realize you were less attractive, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face.

"What?" Bucky pulled away, shock evident on his face while you stared at your feet, swallowing nervously.

"Please don't make me say it"

"Sweetheart, look at me" He held your face firmly in his hands making you look a him, "Why would you ask such a thing"

"I-I heard some people talking in the kitchen. Said I'm fat" If it wasn't for Bucky's enhanced hearing, he would've missed your fallen voice as you hide your face in his chest again.

"Absolutely not baby, who said that to you" Bucky held back on the red hot anger that surged through him, needing to comfort you first before raining hell on whoever hurt you.

"But I am Bucky!" You cried in frustration, pulling away from his hold. "It looks awful and I'm just going to keep getting bigger, I- I get if you don't find me as attractive-

"Hey, hey, stop, baby look at me" Bucky stopped your rambling, pulling you back into him, his hands holding your face firmly, "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are to me? Hm? Do you have any idea how insanely attracted I've been to you ever since you told me you're pregnant?"

You shook your head, your heart jolting when he pushed himself against you, letting you feel the hardness between his legs, poorly contained in his joggers.

"Bucky-

"C'mere" Bucky threw your hoodie off before stripping his own clothes aside, his hard cock angry and leaking, desperate to fill you. "M'gonna show you baby"

He didn't give you a second to protest, carrying you over to bed and laying you down, spreading your legs apart, flicking his cock against your clit before tracing it down to your entrance and shoving himself home.

"Bucky!" you moaned, your legs moving on their own to wrap around his waist as he started to move, throbbing the entire time.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful mama, if you weren't pregnant already, we'd be in here all day till you were" Bucky groaned, grabbing and caressing your soft skin, already leaking into you. "You're gonna look so sexy when your belly gets all round, when these breasts get all big, they're gonna leak so much carrying my baby"

He moved to tug your swollen nipples between his pink lips, groaning at the thought of how sweet your milk would taste. Your back arched off the bed from how sensitive they were, your cunt fluttering around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

"I already know you're gonna get so swollen mama, its my baby in your belly. Did you forget its my cum that got you pregnant? Did you forget there's all that serum in my cock baby? I got you fuckin' pregnant, I'm you're babydaddy, I can't wait to see you get all tired, pouty and big with my super soldier baby"

"Oh fuck Bucky" you wailed, his words making your heart swell while your pussy nearly squirted as he hit that spongy spot deep in you, "P-please don't-don't stop"

"I won't stop baby, couldn't even if I wanted to, y'feel too good. Fuck, just knowing you're pregnant makes me so hard, can't believe I knocked suck a pretty little thing up, so lucky I got to stuff you nice and full"

Bucky started to fuck you harder till he headboard added new dents to the wall since the extra strength walls Tony added had nothing on Bucky's stamina and strength.

"Can't wait till everyone sees how pretty you're gonna look, m'gonna show you off, make sure everyone knows you're my girl, the love of my life, that you're carrying a piece of me in you"

"But- but what if they think-I won't look-" You're insecurities tried to sneak back in but Bucky wasn't having any of it, shutting ha down immediately.

"I'll fuck you in front of them. You think I give a fuck? I'll bend this pretty ass over, hold that perfectly round belly and stuff my cock in you till it leaks and makes a mess on the floor. I'll show them exactly what I did to get you that big in the first place, let them see how swollen my cock gets for you, goddamn, I'm gonna cum!"

Bucky fucked you hard and fast, letting you feel him in your stomach, not holding back one bit, his hand flying to grip onto the headboard.

"Bucky-Bucky gonna-I'm gonna-!OH GOD" You let out a silent scream, cumming around him without warning, your pregnancy making you extra sensitive, being able to orgasm without him even touching you.

"This sweet, soft fuckin' body" Bucky's pace faltered, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, "So good to me, so fuckin' good!, gonna cum mama, gonna give you more of my cream, gonna full that pussy up n'keep you pregnant forever, take it gorgeous, fuckin' beautiful, no one makes me hard like this, m'gonna cum so hard-fuck-fuck-FUCCCKKK M'CUMMING" Bucky roared against your neck, his cock bursting with ropes of cum, emptying his balls dry with sloppy thrusts until the sheets were soaked. You both panted, sweat covering your bodies, the sweet, primal smell of sex filling the room making your practically purr.

"You're the most beautiful thing to ever happen to me. I love you no matter what. You're stunning to me at any size, pregnant or not, don't you ever forget it" Bucky held you firmly, brushing his hands over your belly, pressing a kiss to your temple. You nodded, already feeling better, nervousness replacing your previous anxiety because you knew Bucky wouldn't let the incident slide.

"Who made you feel this way baby" His voice was gentle but he wasn't leaving any room for negotiation.

"Just leave it Bucky" You shrugged, not wanting to make it a big deal but he shook his head.

"Can't do that sugar. No one makes my doll upset. You get some rest alright? let me make you lunch and we'll take a nap after"

You nodded, letting him slip his henley over your head, grabbing some comfy sweats for you to wear and throwing on his own clothes before heading down. You froze as you neared the kitchen seeing everyone else downstairs gathered for lunch which was a rare sight but there had been less mission recently meaning everyone was home. Bucky gave your hand a comforting squeeze, a stark contrast the to protective anger he felt again.

"Who the fuck spoke about y/n" Bucky stormed down, silence filling the room immediatly, everyone staring at each other in confusion while Sharon's face filled with guilt. "Well?!"

"What happened Buck, Steve and I were training this morning" Sam said honestly, while the others nodded in agreement, still looking at each other wondering what was going on. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"Well someone said something because she was upset in our bedroom and it happened today" Bucky had a good feeling about who caused your distress, knowing no one else would ever do such a thing but he wasn't about to call out Sharon ha easily, seeing her already squirming in discomfort.

"There's an easy solution to all this, give me a second" Tony typed something into his phone before calling for Friday, "FRIDAY can you play back the audio from this morning from when y/n was in here"

"Certainly, Mr. Stark"

The audio started with you greeting Sharon, followed by her comment and then the conversation she had with the new trainee. Shock and gasps filled the room, everyone glaring at the blonde with disgust while she shook her head, her stomach churning.

"I-I didn't say anything! That wasn't even me!"

"Really? Then who the fuck was it" Bucky spat, ready to jump her across the table, his fists balled at his side. Sharon huffed, biting her lip while Bucky continued to glare at her, still holding your hand softly in his. His anger only flared more, thinking about how she thought she could replace you.

"Fine! I said it! But was I wrong? She is bigger than before" Sharon weakly defended herself, trembling when Bucky flinched, his self restraint growing thinner. Your eyes grew steamy, squeaking when Bucky moved to wrap his arm around your tummy, slipping it under your shirt.

"Cause she's pregnant. With my baby. I'm her babydaddy. I got her pregnant. You wanna know how? I fucked her. So hard. I didn't just fuck her, I made love to her cause she's my girl. Do you have any idea how attracted I am to her? How much cum there was? I didn't pull out once. She's so tight around my cock, its hard not to fill her up. Just kept going until my dick started to hurt and even then, I didn't wanna pull out"

Sam smirked at Bucky's utterly unhinged, x-rated rambling while Steve buried his red face in his hands. Tony cackled from the side while Nat patiently waited to get a chance to lay her hands on Sharon on Bucky's behalf.

"I-I get it, enough-

"You're delusional if you think I'd ever leave her for you. This is the love of my life. She's giving me a baby. She's beautiful. I chose this woman because she's special, she's this one I want to have a family with. You know what, you better get used to it cause I'm gonna get her pregnant again and again and it won't be hard considering how badly I constantly want her. In fact, we fucked just now, tell your little friend that"

"Oh my god" Sharon huffed, harshly wiping her tear streaked face, ready to throw up from embarrassment. She choked a sob, running out without looking back, Bucky's words tearing her apart. Everyone ignored her presence, immediately piling onto you with hugs, kisses and congratulations instead.

"Congratulations, babydaddy" Sam grinned, playfully nudging Bucky's shoulder making him blush, his arms still wrapped around your tummy. "And to you, little mama"

"I call god father" Steve announced, kissing your cheek before pulling Bucky into a tight hug, happy for his best friend and you.

Nat cracked a few knuckles, giving you a quick peck on the head, promising to celebrate later before following Sharon out, ready to hand her ass to her. The little trainee would be next.

"So what you're both saying is there's gonna be another super soldier running around here?" Tony's eyes lit up with excitement and a dash of fear when he remembered the baby would also be surrounded by idiots like Sam and Steve. He'd have to reinforce everything.

Immediately.

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gtgbabie0 · 5 months

Note

Hi! :) could you write fluff spencer reid x pregnant bau reader on a gala of sorts at their work where he is all careful and protective with her

-Spencer Reid x reader

Of course lovely, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! 💕

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“Give me your hands sweetheart,” Spencer says, pulling you away from everyone else as he takes out a small bottle of hand sanitiser from his pocket. You do as he says without saying a word, you learnt the hard way not to question him any more.

You watch with a soft smile as he squeezes the bottle, the liquid is cold against your palms and you’re quick to rub it in. “Have you eaten yet?“ he asks, bringing a protective hand to settle against your lower back nudging you closer to him.

“Mhm, don’t worry David did let me go hungry” you smile reaching to tuck his hair behind his ear, he smiles gently as he leans into your touch.

He knows he has a habit of over-worrying, especially when it comes to you and you can’t blame him considering how much he’s lost in the past, perhaps that’s why you felt riddled with guilt after you had snapped at him this morning, immediately diving into teary eyed apologies.

“Good, do you need to sit down?” He smiles, he can’t help but ask. His palm soothes your back as he watches you roll your shoulders.

Your hand rests against your bump when you feel your baby kick, interrupting your train of thought, your eyes light up and you don’t waste a moment, bringing Spencer’s hand to your belly.

“We’re fine” you smile, watching his face practically beam with amazement.

“I know- I know” Spencer whispers, as if he's trying to calm any wondering thoughts he has, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

In all honesty, Spencer wasn’t sure he was ready for a child when you had first told him, and he still doubts himself from time to time but there’s something warm that blooms within his chest when you ask him to get whatever odd foods you’re craving or when you gently tug his hand to feel the baby kick.

“You’ll tell me if you need anything, yeah?” He whispers, and you can tell by the way he approaches the question that he’s being careful not to swamp you with his worry.

You immediately lean into him, pressing a kiss against his cheek, “Of course I will” you promise, taking his hands in yours.

You watch as his eyes scan across the room, and you know for a fact that he’s checking for anything that might end up being dangerous for you. He’s already baby-proofed the entire house… just for you.

“You know what? Maybe some fresh air” you suggest, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea the room was quite stuffy after all.

This seems to get his attention, his eyes finding yours once again. “Okay, yeah we can do that” Spencer smiles, his hand settles against the small of your back as he guides you through the room.

The room was dimly lit and packed with people from different precincts, and the mixture of light chatter, music and trying to watch over you was starting to become far too overwhelming for him. He was ready to go home a long time ago.

Your hand grasps his arm as you both walk side by side, your path abruptly stopped by someone who clearly wasn’t looking where they were going as they walk straight into you.

Spencer has never been quick to anger as he was in that moment, immediately pulling you behind him as he confronts the younger man with a scowl. “Watch where you’re going” he snaps as he looks back at you, making sure you're okay before looking back at the very obviously inebriated man.

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t see her, I-" he tries to explain himself, panicked as he makes eye contact with you. Spencer doesn’t let him finish his sentence.

“Wasn’t looking where you were going?” He scoffs, and you take the initiative to reach for his hand, trying to stop this from getting out of hand.

You let out a sigh of relief as you notice Derek walking towards you with a soft smile, “I got this” he mouths at you, before nodding to Spencer.

“Come on Spence” you whisper, tugging on his hand as he notices Derek, he gets the memo and he turns around to you. His thumb soothes over your knuckles and his heart seems to find a calmer pace, he takes a deep breath once he realises you're okay.

His eyes soften as you pull him towards the door, the cool air against your skin alleviates your stress and you're finally able to breathe. “Are you okay, you’re not hurt?” He asks, sitting down next to you on the bench, he takes his blazer and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Yeah I’m alright, are you? looked like you were about to start throwing punches back there” You rest your head against his shoulder, enjoying his body warmth that blankets over you as he wraps an arm around you and it only drives you to shuffle closer to him.

“I should’ve brought my cane” he chuckles, his cheek resting against the top of your head, and you both break out in laughter at the idea of him weaponising his cane.

The pair of you stay like that for a moment, enjoying the peacefulness of the cool evening. “I think I’m ready for bed” you tell him and he’s already calling a taxi.

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hoejosatoru · 1 year

Text

A quick lil Hantengu/Karaku pussy eating smut bc I need him bad 🧍🏻‍♀️(you could apply this to any of the clones tbh you do you)

Warnings: pussy eating, degradation, not non con but reader is a little scared at first, squirting,a demon is eating your pussy idk what else to tell you. This might be the nasty pussy eating fic I’ve ever written MDNI

You knew the second you saw a humanoid shape moving in the shadows you were fucked. Taking this short cut home through woods had always been a risk and your luck had run out. You knew it was demon before he even stepped out into the moonlight by the ways the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“Well, what do we have here?” A sickly sweet voice asked. The demon stepped out from the shadows, tall, muscular and horned. You’d never seen a demon before in real life. You weren’t a slayer, just another villager. There was instinctually fear in having this predator before you, but something else just below the surface. He was… alluring. Handsome when he should be grotesque. You felt sick in the head for thinking so.

The demon was suddenly before you, stunning you with his speed. “You’re a shy thing, are you?” He was walked around your body, sizing you up. Your hear hammered in your chest. He licked his lips. “The pretty ones always are.”

When you looked in his eyes, your blood went cold. His pupils read “upper rank 4.” Even with you limited knowledge of demons, you knew an upper rank was the most dangerous of them all. Your body shook with fear. “Please don’t hurt me,” you blurted out helplessly.

Surprisingly, he chuckled. “Who said I wanted to hurt you?” You flinched slight as he ran a finger along your cheek. “Pretty thing like you would be a waste to kill.” He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Besides, I’m hungry for something else tonight.”

Your body shivered, though for an entirely different reason. It felt so wrong to respond to a demon in this way. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

In a flash you were on the ground, the demon on top of you. “P-please don’t!” You cried. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do to you, though the look in his eyes gave you a hint.

“Told you I’m not gonna hurt you,” he kicked a stripe up your neck, making you gasp. His hands were pinning down your wrist to stop you from squirming - though you weren’t putting up much of a fight. “I’m going to make you feel good. Pleasure you.”

He stuck his tongue out again and you caught a glimpse of the kanji for “pleasure” tattooed on it. Heat pooled between your legs at the sinful sight. “B-but you’re a demon. It’s wrong.” You stumbled over your words as he sucked at your neck, right over your jugular.

He let out a dry laugh. “Don’t act like you’re not aroused, I can smell it from here.” Your face went bright red, which only made him laugh more. “You humans, so virtuous.” His hands were between your legs, rubbing at your throbbing core over your underwear. “I’m going to devour you.”

You gasped as he ripped your underwear off, exposing your pussy to the his eyes and the cold night air. He was no longer holding you down but you did run from him. Not just because it was pointless, but because, fuck, your pussy was aching and you wanted him to fix it. You were sick with shame and desire.

“My name is Karaku,” the demon said, slotting himself between your legs, “I want to hear you scream it when you cum on my tongue.” You bit your lip, watching him with anxious anticipation. He licked a stripe up your pussy, letting your arousal coat his tongue. “Mmm, fucking soaked. And all for a demon? You’re not as innocent as you act.”

He did just a he said: he devoured you. His mouth moved against with speed and force that you didn’t even know was possible. Well, maybe it wasn’t for human men, but for him it was. He sucked hard on your clit, before grazing his teeth over it, loving how your whole body jumped.

Karaku pressed his tongue into your tight, sopping pussy. He wriggled his tongue inside you and it was the most sinful and pleasurable thing you ever felt. “Fuck,” you whined as he pulled away. He watched your pussy clench around nothing, driving him wild.

“Pussy fucking begging for me. What a dirty girl you are,” he purred. His hands dug into your plush thigh to keep you spread open for him. His nails threatening to cut your skin.

His mouth returned to your wet heat, though less intensely. He wanted to drag it out, to tease you. He circled his tongue around your hole, never dipped in like he knew you wanted. He switched between teasing your hole and sucking on your click, turning you into a whimpering miss.

“Please!” You cried, your need damn near painful. Your whole body was pulsing for him, you didn’t even care how wrong it was. The demon just laughed at you. You were desire over-rid your fear. You went to grip his hair, but your hands wrapped around the solid horns on his forehead instead. You used the grip as leverage grinding into his face.

Karaku let out a deep, feral moan. “Look at you fucking my face. A demons face. You’re sick for wanting me. Nasty fuckin’ slut,” his words were so dirty, but laced with desire. It only made you more desperate for release.

Karaku could easily have stopped you from fucking his face, but he didn’t want to. He loved being buried in your pussy, his tongue fucking you, tasting you. You were sweeter than most humans.

“Karaku,” you whimpered as you bucked your hips against his face. Your were so close; each time his nose nudged your clit pleasure pulsed through you.

“That’s it. Cum on my fucking tongue,” he demanded. He pressed his tongue impossibly deeper into you.

“Karaku fuck!” You cried out as the coil in your stomach snapped. The pleasure you felt was white-hot, more intense than anything you’d ever felt. You squirmed and moaned as he licked you through your orgasm. You were gasping, tearing in your eyes. It was so good it almost hurt.

His tongue flicked relentlessly over your overly sensitive clit. Suddenly your body shuddered, overcome by another wave of ecstasy as you squirted all over his face.

“Oh, fuck you’re dirty,” karaku purred, lapping up every last bit of your release. He finally pulled away, his face glistening with your release in the moonlight. As you caught your breath and came down from your high, fear and shame crept back in. What did you just do?

You tried to scramble away, but Karaku grabbed you by the ankle, pulling you back to him. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere. I’m taking you back to my brothers and we are going to have some fun.”

#I need to pray after this #hantengu #Hantengu smut #karaku #karaku smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer fic #upper moons #upper rank demons

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seospicybin · 8 months

Text

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART I

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Lee Know become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (10,8k words)

Author's note: Hope you like this one too. Feel free to send feedback! x

Content warning: This is entirely a work of fiction and not affiliated with real Too Hot To Handle show.

YOU: I'm always on the hunt. I'm always looking for the next exciting thing [giggles] I know I may sound conceited saying this but... I usually get what I want [bites lip] Well, I'm beautiful, I'm fun, I have a great body... they can't say no to me [winks] get ready 'cause I'm coming in hot!

Having all these eyes on you the moment you walk in is nothing less than your expectations.

You used to get stared at by people, it's something that you've been dealing with after you went through puberty. For one, you don't have either the big boobs or the ass, your body is... average. But people still stare at you like you have all of that on you.

That's when you learn that sex appeal doesn't have anything to do with your appearance.

You can engage in a boring conversation with someone and they'd still find you sexy. Sex appeal is a gift, a very lethal gift.

"Hi, everyone!" You sweetly greet them with an elegant wave of hand.

"Girl, you're really cute!" One of the females says.

You smile even though you prefer to be called anything but cute, coming from her makes it sounds like you're small and not a threat to them.

However, a compliment is a compliment and maybe she meant it in a good way.

"You too," you return the compliment with a quick cheek-to-cheek kiss.

Skipping the females, you go straight to introduce yourself to the male guests, "Hi, hello!"

There are three of them, blonde, brunette, dark-haired, chocolate, vanilla, and caramel. They got everything in here and you can't decide which one you want to taste first.

"Jai!" The dark-haired says. The tattoos covering his left sleeve catch your attention.

You know that accent everywhere, "Australian. I like it," you say with a flirty smile.

You turn to the next one, "And you are?"

"Luca," he answers with a rather different accent.

It's hard to tell but he's tall with a very well-built body, it's safe to say he's an athlete.

"Do you play sports?"

"I'm a professional footballer," he answers.

"Soccer?" You ask for confirmation because football means a different sport in a few countries.

He nods, "Do you like it?"

"Well, I like what I'm seeing," you shamelessly reply.

It amuses him so much that he laughs, "I mean, soccer," he corrects himself.

"Only when you're playing," you answer without a beat.

You move on to the blonde one that has the biggest body out of the three. It's hard to miss those abs even with his oiled body reflecting the sun at you.

"Bryan," he introduces and doesn't hesitate to kiss your cheek.

"You're so big," you say in awe.

"The bigger the better?"

You grab a glass and let him pour you one, "Well, cheers to that!"

YOU: Oh... [fans your neck] They're all so hot. Not sure I can survive in this heat.

It's better to consider the other female guests as your friends rather than competitors.

They're all attractive and have their own charms, it's not like you're here to compare looks. You're here to have fun in a show called Pleasure Island.

From the name of it, you can imagine all the fun you can have and hopefully, get some action in the process.

The next male guest who enters the villa is a bit shorter than the previous ones, he has long curly hair and a great body.

He comes in your direction and introduces himself to you first before anyone else.

"I'm Jack!" He says with a smile that showcases his perfect white teeth.

"Hi, you have a nice smile!" You say.

"I love your smile," he flirts back with a subtle wink.

He leaves quite an impression on you, he has wild youthful charms.

YOU: Jack is cute. He'll make a cute boy toy. If you know what I mean.

It comes down to the last guest.

Your eyes are already busy silently checking them out while sipping your fruity cocktail but how can you say no to another body you can ogle on?

This guy sure has a lot of confidence in him. Wide strides, a sly smile, and a face that would make Michelangelo rise from his grave just to immortalize it into a sculpture.

Sadly, he only introduces himself briefly to everyone from the other end of the group of people lining up to face the camera.

"I'm Minho," he shortly announces his name with an enigmatic smile that would make Monalisa run for her money.

There's something about him, something you can't put your finger on. He got the body, and the face, he even got that improved, sexier version of The Kubrick stare.

You quietly watch him as he speaks to a girl with rosy cheeks, ginger hair, and a Scottish accent, you believe her name is Maisie.

Something about him makes you can't look away. A part of it must be because he's pleasing to the eyes and the other part is... You are simply attracted to him.

It feels as if he knows he trapped you in his magnetic field, he catches you looking.

Instead of looking away, you stare deeply into his eyes and sending him signals that you're indeed attracted that you can't stop looking.

Before it turns into an intense staring contest, you slyly smile and raise your glass at him for a toast.

He slightly raises his glass as well and sips it without breaking his eye contact with you.

That means signals received so let's see if he gets them right.

YOU: Minho is dangerous but who likes to play safe anyway? Definitely, not me [smirks]

"I like Jai. He's hot..." says the beautiful girl with strawberry blond hair, Agnes.

It's obvious that she'll be the main character of this show. She's hot, very likable, and has a perfect smile that would get her teeth-whitening ads.

"What about you?" She asks the tallest girl with legs for days, Zara.

Her dark skin glows under the sun and her curly hair flows down her back, radiating that goddess beauty.

"I like Bryan. I like big boy," she answers.

"And apparently, you like vanilla too, huh?" you playfully add.

Everyone cracks a laugh at your witty response and accidentally takes your turn to answer, "I like Jack, he's cute. I like cute boys."

YOU: Jack is the safest choice for now. I have my eyes on Minho too but I want to check the competition first.

"Yeah, he is, I think he's the youngest of them all," the one with midnight hair and light brown eyes, Alia.

Maisie nods in agreement, "But I got my eyes on Minho," she says.

The first competition appears and you keep your face straight, playing dumb.

"Oh, good choice!" You calmly respond.

"Did you see his face? He's so beautiful, like a Greek God!" Maisie says with a dramatic sigh.

"And his body, ooh..." Alia adds, overwhelmed by just the thought of Minho.

"Oh, you like him too?" Maisie asks, faking her surprised tone.

"Yeah, I'm going for him, he's so my type," Alia daringly says.

Forget what you said about them as your friends!

Maisie and Alia are your competitors now but you're not going to declare a war just yet. For now, you want to gather as much intel as possible to assess the probability of winning against them.

YOU: Minho is quite the ladies' favorite I see.

You're the last person to come into the bedroom and everyone seems to have chosen their territory.

There are five beds anyway, you're not afraid of not getting one and you're alright sleeping with anyone.

Maisie can have her victory when you see her getting onto Minho's bed.

You sit on the sofa looking away and when everyone else is busy chatting with each other, you look at Minho's direction laying down with hands tucked under his head.

Once your eyes make contact and lock in a gaze, you keep staring into his eyes with your thumb tugged between your teeth.

When you deem he gets the message as he flashes you his signature half-smirk, you look away and shift your attention to someone else.

"What's good, Jack?" You ask him who's looking lonely on his bed.

"You," he answers.

"I think I'm more than just good," you tell him with a flirtatious laugh.

"There's only one way to prove it," his eyes that keep looking at anywhere but your face tells it all.

YOU: Jack is just so... feisty? He's so young, so eager. He's like a rabbit, ready to have sex 24/7. A jackrabbit.

The theme for tonight's party is Greek Gods and Goddesses.

The males are wearing togas while the females are wearing white and gold dresses with less fabric and high slits on them. You put on a dress with a plunging neckline and a golden headpiece on the crown of your hair. Not forgetting to put layers of lipstick on because nothing arouses men more than seeing red-painted lips.

The male cheers when all the females are descending the stairs to the beach where the party is held. There's a bonfire, glasses of cocktails ready for everyone to grab, and platters of food arranged so beautifully to snack on.

To get it started, music is blasting through speakers so everyone can warm up with a dance, gyrating and humping against each other and whatnot.

You notice Jai and Agnes already got things going on as you caught them kissing in between changes of songs.

While Jack is hopelessly trying to get something out of you for a while.

At one point, you let him rest his hands on your hips as he stands behind you, dancing and rubbing yourself against him as a little treat for him.

YOU: Everyone is looking so hot, so divine... the sexual tension is rising and the night hasn't even started yet.

The music abruptly stops playing and everyone is told to sit down while Jack is taking center stage, announcing a game everyone is going to play.

"Nectar is the drink of the Olympian gods but unlike them, we have a new way to drink it!" He begins by sharing a little knowledge of the Greek mythology.

You have zero idea what it's got to do with a game everyone is about to play.

"Everyone is going to stand here and let the other Gods or Goddesses drink the nectar from their bodies," he explains, pointing to a bowl of honey on the table.

A few of them coo in excitement and probably start thinking about what they're going to do with it.

"Nothing is off-limits! It's whatever, wherever, whoever you want to do," he playfully remarks.

Bryan is the first one to take his turn and he stands there with his big body, looking like a true Greek God in his toga and crown.

You see that Zara wastes no time to take her chance, taking a spoonful of honey and letting it dribble down his abs. She drops to her knees to lick the honey clean on his glorious abs.

"Whoo!" You howl and applaud her because she sets the standards so high already.

She doesn't miss the chance to kiss him after, getting his big boy just like she planned. Now that's hot!

It gets crazier with each turn and you want to have fun as well, ultimately, you want to show everyone how to get it done.

It's Agnes's turn. You don't usually have a thing for blonde but she's pretty and she'll make a great conquest.

Before Jai can have his chance, you dash toward her and brush her lips with honey right with your finger. She has soft lips and you're so eager to taste it.

You lean in and passionately kiss her, showing off your skill in kissing and giving everyone a little show. Just as expected, kissing her only convinces you that girls are better kissers.

"Oh, damn!" You faintly hear one of the males exclaim.

Agnes gasps as she lets go of the kiss and suddenly, Jai takes over from you, afraid that you'll take her from him.

YOU: It's a party. I want to have a lot of fun and kiss everyone.

You return to your seat with a triumphant smile on your face, on the way, you shot a glance at Minho to dare him.

However, both Maisie and Alia didn't get any from him. You start to wonder if he's going to kiss someone at all or not. When it's Minho's turn though, Maisie is excitedly put honey on his neck and licks it off for him, finishing it with a kiss on his lips.

Alia takes her turn after, kissing him right on the lips and well, you must admit that he's a good kisser. He's lacking in hand placement.

Sure, you would love to get up there and show him what a good kisser you are.

YOU: It's still day one. There'll be lots of opportunities to kiss him and if not, I'll make the opportunity myself.

When it comes to your turn, you expect nothing from Jack but he's waiting for it, rubbing his hands together, impatient to execute his plan on you.

"Come, get your honey," you playfully say.

Jack picks up the whole bowl of honey and pours it down your cleavage. You're gasping the second the sticky liquid lands on your skin and trickles down the valley between your breasts.

Putting the bowl down, Jack dives right in and buries his face between your breasts, he's smearing the honey all over instead of licking it off of you.

You admire his creativity for this even though you know it's coming from the pit of his lewd, juvenile brain.

"Oh, yeah!" He lets a celebratory roar but it soon dies down as someone else comes toward you in his confident, wide strides.

Your stomach is fluttering as Minho stands right in front of you, looking like Adonis with his sharp nose and chiseled jaws, got you holding your breath and wondering what he's about to do to you.

Minho is unpredictable which is exactly what you're looking for in a man.

You see he dips his two fingers into the honey and brings them close to your lips, smearing it all over. Your lungs are shrinking the longer you hold your breath yet you can't seem to breathe when he's leaning so close and about to...

Minho doesn't kiss you. Instead of that, he licks your lips and you can feel his hot tongue on your lips. One lick is all it takes to make your heart skip a beat.

When you think he's done, Minho tugs your lower lip between his teeth and gently bites it, pulling at it before letting it go.

As he takes a step back, Minho shoves his fingers to his mouth, a half smirk that signified he just evened the score with you.

YOU: Minho got the signals after all [slyly smiles]

When the host of the show enters you finally snap yourself out of it.

"Wild night, huh?" He asks everyone.

"Yeah!" Bryan answers the loudest.

"It gets wilder because I have a surprise for you guys!" The host announces.

That gets everyone excited, guessing what kind of surprise they'll bring on the first night of the show. They expect so much because everything has been great already. More girls? More boys? A celebrity guest? A DJ?

"Are you guys ready?"

Everyone is hyped, shooting up from their seats and jumping in excitement like kids on Christmas morning.

"Bring it in!"

The attention shifts to the two staff carrying a big wooden box and placing it in the center. The anticipation is rising and everyone can't wait to see what's inside.

"Five! Four! Three! Two..."

Everyone counting down the second and when it finally gets to one, the side of the box opens, revealing a cone-shaped thing inside, lighting up in purple colors.

Then you hear the infamous ding sound that you know for sure it's coming from Lana, the ultimate cockblocker.

Your excitement fizzles out in a second and drop your head on your hands, "Oh, fuck!"

Maisie squeals while Agnes shrieks in horror and the rest are wondering what is that thing, oblivious to the fact that they're about to be forced into celibacy.

"Is that an air freshener?" Jai asks in pure confusion.

"That's Lana!" You say.

"What?" He cringes and is still confused.

"She's going to cockblock us!" You concisely tell him what's about to happen to all of you.

"We're on Too Hot To Handle!" Zara breaks the news for everyone and makes it real for you that you're trapped in this show.

"Hello, I'm Lana, your personal digital assistant!" The cone starts speaking.

"Welcome to the retreat!"

YOU: What. The actual. Fuck?

"The purpose of this retreat is to help you gain deeper and more emotional connections."

Alia whines and then sighs, "I signed up for dicks," she lowly mutters.

You lowly laugh at her words, not realizing that you're also laughing at your pain.

"For the last 12 hours, I have been watching you and learning about your behavior. You have been selected as all of you are having meaningless flings over genuine relationships."

The more Lana speaks the more you feel like fainting. Can't believe that she threw a party, and got everyone all hot and bothered, delivering shocking news in the middle of it to let everyone know that they can't have a release at the end of it.

"As part of your social development, I have allocated a prize of $200,000."

YOU: That much money makes me horny, to be honest.

"How about I give you $200,000 for you to go away, Lana?" Luca jokingly offers but it falls short since Lana has no ears.

Even if she had one, she wouldn't listen to him anyway, Lana is her own boss.

"However, I will deduct money from the prize fund if there are breaches of the rules."

Looking at them and how wild the things they've done this night alone, you can tell that there'll be not much money left at the end.

"For those of you who need reminding, there is to be no kissing...."

"Fuck!" Zara bluntly curses.

"No heavy petting, no sex..."

"Oh, my God!" Agnes panicking, looking like she's about to hyperventilating.

"And no self-gratification."

Jack's eyebrow raises in question, "What's that mean?"

"No masturbating," you tell him with a sad smile.

He looks devastated as if you've just told him a relative has died, "for real?"

You stifle a nod.

"Welcome to your long, hard, sexless summer," Lana finishes.

YOU: Boys make me horny. Money makes me horny. I'm fucked.

Everyone in the dressing room is groaning and complaining about the turn of Pleasure Island into No Pleasure Island with Lana ending the party for everyone.

You don't want to be dragged down into the misery pit and decide to finish your night routine quickly, wanting to end the day already.

Minho's bed is right next to the door and he's laying there as if he's been waiting for you.

"You'll sleep on this bed," he says, stopping you from walking.

You tip your head to the side, then let out a low chuckle, "How are you so sure?"

He leans back on his pillow and puts his hands under his head, "because I'm sleeping here," he answers.

Minho is so cocky, so pretty, a menacing force in this retreat and you're intrigued to see what it feels like to sleep with the devil's advocate.

You crawl onto the bed and lay next to him, not showing any signs that you'll fall into his temptations, at least, not tonight.

YOU: Well, as expected, the best girl won!

The next thing you anticipate is how Maisie or Alia is going to react to seeing you in one bed with Minho.

Minho has his hand resting on your stomach like he's trying to hold you down, not letting you go anywhere even though you're under the cover with him, chatting with Agnes who's occupying the next bed with Jai.

Maisie is the first one to see that her number one guy is on the bed with someone else, she glances away and is left with no choice but to sleep with Jack tonight.

You don't have to look to know that she's throwing daggers at you with her eyes from across the room.

And Alia looks calm about it, she's going to sleep with Luca anyway. Perhaps, she's switching onto his lane tonight.

"No one breaks the rules tonight!" Bryan remarks.

There's always that one guy who's going to protect the money but it's a surprise that it's going to be Bryan.

"Be good!" He warns once again as he looks around the room.

Something about being reminded not to do something though only encourages all of these horn dogs to do it.

You turn your head to see Minho and can't tell what he'd likely do. With most men, you can easily tell everything about them but Minho... he is uncharted territory but it's a good thing that you're eager to explore.

YOU: Minho is so perfect and I feel the need to violate it.

You're usually jealous to see anyone prettier than you but not with Minho.

Instead of being jealous, you want to admire him, and worship him like a divine being he is. You hesitate to touch him because it doesn't feel real to exist in the same space and time with him.

It's getting dangerous now that the lights are out and anything can happen in the dark.

He turns to lie on his side and face you, with the dim light coming from the sleep lamps you can see his eyes are open and looking at you.

You reach for his hair and put the strand away from curtaining his forehead, "Are you going to be good tonight?" You keep your voice low as everyone else is going to sleep.

His hand finds your waist under the cover and then he answers, "I don't know."

He then slides his hand to the arch of your back and using all of his strength, he pulls you close until your body is against him.

Brushing your hair to the side, he then brings his mouth close to your ear and whispers, "We'll see."

His vague answers only make you feel uneasy but your chest is overflowing with excitement that you can't sleep, even when you're sleeping, you feel alerted with every movement of his body against you.

In the middle of the night, he disrupts your sleep with a gentle kiss on your neck. He then slides down the strap of your tank top so he can place kisses along your collarbone.

The quiet in the room is filled with the rustles coming from this bed as Minho hovers above you, he takes both of your hands and pins them above your head.

You believe he specifically chooses this time to see if you can keep it quiet as he places kisses down your neck and chest. Each kiss leaves a searing mark on your skin with a few low moans slipping past your mouth.

You don't even try to break away from the hand pinning your hands by the wrists but can't stay still as he's teasing you more by kissing you all over your face, except your lips.

He teased you earlier by only licking your lips and by doing this, he wants to see how far can you go and see if he can make you push the limit.

Minho is a fucking sadist but what can you do when you get pleasure in pain?

He lands his lips so close to your lips that you reflexively open your mouth, ready to return his kiss but he retracts himself, you can see how pathetic you are from the way he's looking down at you.

"Are you going to be good tonight?" He asks you back, then loosening the hold around your hands.

Minho is turning the table back, leaving the decision whether to rule break or not to you.

In that case, he was wrong to think you'd be afraid to be the first to rule break.

YOU: Well, I mean... [bites lips] I've never been a good girl anyway.

That half-smirk of his is mocking you but he looks so damn attractive whenever he does that.

You hate losing but for this one time, you're going to like it.

"You fucking tease," you mutter to him, putting your hand on the nape of his neck and bringing his head close.

The bad wins tonight and you can feel the burn as both of your lips touch and clash in a blazing kiss that sets your body on fire.

You wrap your legs around his waist and draw him closer, leaving not even an inch between your bodies, your breasts squashed between your chests.

You kiss him hard and deep, making the most of it knowing that it will cost you money. Your hands are tugging at his soft locks.

His tongue skillfully parts your lips open and invades your mouth, deepening the kiss to get as much taste as he can. He is one phenomenal kisser and even if you had to die of asphyxiation, you don't want to stop.

However, you still want to live to play this game with him and he seems to have the same plan by the way he slowly pulling away. You both gasp for air the second you let go of the kiss.

You land soft pecks on his cheek and neck, turning his head to the side, You whisper "I let you win tonight," then playfully bite his ear.

YOU: And just like that, we're the first to break the rules in the retreat.

"Good morning!" Agnes cheerfully greets everyone the second the lights are on.

"Morning!" You mumble your reply, still feeling sleepy with how little you slept last night.

Bryan pinches the bridge of his nose and scans everyone to spot any guilty faces, he looks even bigger topless next to Zara who owns a model body.

"I really thought I was dreaming that I'm in Too Hot To Handle," Agnes innocently shares.

You softly laugh at that and indirectly, at the satire of your own life. You turn to look at Minho, looking so beautiful even when he's just woken up from sleep.

"How about you?" You put your leg over him under the cover, rubbing his shin with your toes.

"Did you dream a sweet dream?"

Minho slouches down on his pillow, looking like he's about to go back to sleep, "It was sweet but it wasn't a dream."

He casually says that like it wouldn't bring back the recollection of how the two of you kissed last night and you're not going to lie, it gets you wet just thinking about it.

YOU: Waking up next to him, the first thought that comes to mind is our kiss last night. Gosh... it was so fucking hot.

"Didn't you say you like Jack?" Zara asks the second both of you are out of everyone's earshot.

"But I didn't say I only like him," you playfully respond.

She giggles in amusement, "You're a trouble. I like it," she says.

Working out with her at the beach, earning you some tips and exercises you can to get her perfect body figure.

"You got some real competitions though," she says while doing a minute-long plank.

You're running out of breath but manage to answer her, "So?"

Zara chuckles again, "You're not afraid you're juggling two men and going against two girls at once?"

When she puts it like that it sounds like you're creating a problem for yourself. In this retreat, you can't just do whatever you want without getting the consequences considering that you're locked in with them for the next few weeks.

"Well... I like Minho more," you tell her and drop to the mat as one minute has passed.

"Yeah?" She asks for further details.

"But he makes me second guessing everything," you concisely explain.

You turn over and cover your eyes to shield them from the morning sun, "with Jack, it's easier. I don't have to think around him."

Zara turns to start doing side plank, "You're not looking for a good pet here!" She playfully scolds you.

You laugh and follow her lead to do the same, "Unless Minho likes someone else then he's my number one right now."

Zara gently slaps your butt, almost sending you toppled to the front, "that's a good girl!"

YOU: It's only day two and the options are still open but I know what I want. I want Minho.

It's convenient that the dressing room is empty at this time with most of everyone already dressed and dolled up for the day.

"Did anything happen with big boy Bryan last night?" You slyly ask while she's putting her fake lashes on.

She lets out a long sigh in response and slaps her spatula on the table, "What do you expect from an accountant?"

It all makes sense now. Bryan is an accountant, he thinks about the money more than treating his girlfriend with a smooch.

You burst into laughter and stop applying mascara, "hate to say it to you but you chose the wrong guy to be in the show with."

She glares at you from her table then looks back in the mirror, "he chose to play the good cop so that leaves me no choice but to play the bad cop."

"Ooo..." you coo, impressed with her determination to make Bryan break the rule with her.

"If you need a smooch, just know that I will give it to you in a heartbeat," you tell her with a sly smile.

Luca walks in on you applying sunblock on each other's body and he refrains from getting to his locker.

"What did I walk into?" He confoundedly asks.

As Zara bends down against the table, you lather sunblock on her ample butt then slap at it, entertaining the sole spectator in the room.

Luca is too stunned to speak that he's just standing there with his locker door open, "Damn. Do that again!"

The sight that welcomes you as you walk out of the house is of Minho in the pool with the Maisie and you owe it to her to give her a chance, making it a play fair.

You turn the other way and decide to sunbathe on the lounger with Alia, chatting about some good skincare products since she's done some beauty ads.

After a while, you see Agnes and Jai walking back from the beach. From the way Jai is grinning from ear to ear, you can tell that they did something that cost some money.

"Hey, girls," she innocently greets you both and sits on the farthest lounger.

"Hey," you reply then exchange a look with Alia.

She seems to also get the same impression and straightforwardly asks Agnes about it, "Did you just spend some money?"

Knowing that she has a bad poker face, Agnes licks her lips and stifles a nod.

"Oh, no..." Alia sighs and picks up her water tumbler from the floor to take a sip.

You see Jai is joining Luca and Jack in the pool, it's only about time that everyone knows someone has broken a rule and the others will soon take their turn.

YOU: They just didn't know that they're not the first to break the rules, eh? [bites thumb]

Zara packed a lot of outfits with her and you get to borrow one.

"I'm going to look so hot Bryan can't say no to me," she remarks.

You must admire her confidence and it's indeed looking good on her, you should have some on you as well if you want to win this competition.

The night is cool with a warm breeze blowing from the sea, carrying the salty air ashore. It's so easy to locate Minho since he's the only one that always catches your eye.

He's wearing a white shirt with the three top buttons open, exposing his chest muscles, and sitting with his legs spreading open.

You feel like dropping to your knees between those muscular legs and... you push the thought away. You focus on the mission you have to do.

One of the things you like about Minho is that he doesn't waste time, he's straightforward and that's what you're about to do, going straight to business.

"Calling for me?" You poke fun even though he doesn't say anything but sipping his drink by himself.

The sofa can fit three people but Minho's thick thighs are looking so comfortable you can't help yourself to sit on them.

"Do I look good?" You take his hand and put it on your waist.

"Not bad," he answers.

He reclines on the sofa, head tilting upward looking at you and that way, you can admire his beautiful face from the top, inexplicably never getting tired of it.

There's no need for words when you can see everything in his eyes, the way he's intensely staring into your eyes with his thumb lazily rubbing the arch of your back.

The tension is there and it's electrifying, you feel alive when you're with him.

"I like your eyes..." you say as you put your hand on his jaw and your eyes drop to his lips.

Minho softly laughs because he knows you're looking nowhere near his eyes when you say it. He puts a finger under the thin strap of your dress and twirls it around his finger.

"I like yours too," he says back as he's undressing you with his eyes.

YOU: God! I want him and I'm going to get him.

Putting your hands around his neck, you draw him close and put a few inches of safe space between your faces.

Pfft, it's not like it's going to stop you from breaking the rules.

"Are you going to be good tonight?" You ask.

"I haven't decided yet," he shortly answers.

You lean into whisper into his ear, "If you're good then I'll give you something as good later."

Now Minho knows what you mean by being good. That he won't let anyone turn his head or get tempted to break the rules with someone else.

Knowing his nature, you doubt that it will not stop him but it's worth trying. He got a taste of it last night and there's a big possibility that he wants more of it.

You softly kiss his cheek and take his glass of drink from his hand, not hesitating to take a sip.

Let's see how the night goes.

YOU: I think it's going to be a good night.

Too much confidence isn't good either.

You feel a little bitter when you see Minho openly flirting with Alia just a few feet away from you. A moment after that, he talks to Maisie.

You scoff because he decides to turn it into his game and you know what?

You feel like making him sweat a little, especially with Jack sitting across from you and checking you out long enough that you can't ignore it anymore.

You lay on your side and decide to tease him a little, "Nice shirt!"

His mouth curls into a sly smile, "Nice body!" He shamelessly compliments you back.

Agnes comes into the scene and sits on the sofa, letting you rest your head on her lap.

"How about me?" She asks.

His smile grows wider, "You two are on the top of my list!"

"Really?" Agnes asks in curiosity as she drags the letter R.

He points at you and says, "I'm obsessed with you but I think you know that."

"Whoa!" You respond in awe, surprised by how daring and blunt he is.

YOU: I'm not going to lie but I like the attention Jack is giving me right now.

You make a space between you and Agnes, patting it as you tell him, "Come sit here!"

Agnes folds her legs on the sofa and also tells him to come, "We're not going to bite unless you want us to," she says.

Jack, like the puppy he is, hops onto the sofa and sits between you and Agnes.

You lean in close to his side and put one leg over his thigh, slipping your hand into his brown, curly hair.

"Not sure about some bites but Jack wants some kisses," he confidently demands like the two of you would easily give it to him.

Agnes looks at you and you look back at her, in a few seconds of eye contact you know that she wants to do it, she shares the same chaotic energy with you.

"Jack wants some kisses, huh?" You childishly talk to him.

Jack turns his head to look at you and puckers his lips.

"Only if you say please!" You tell him.

"Please..." he pleads by adorably dragging the word.

You grab his chin and lean in to kiss him which he eagerly returns with so much passion, trying to show you what he got.

Not wanting to give him too much, you pull away from the kiss and say, "Agnes is a better kisser," you jokingly say to bruise his little ego.

"Yeah?" He says with an eyebrow raised.

"Why don't you try yourself?" You dare him.

Jack turns to the other side and Agnes doesn't give him one second to prepare himself, showing him how to get it done. You take your drink and sip it while watching them kiss in front of you.

YOU: I kissed Jack not because I have a feeling for him. We're just having fun [shrugs]

It was an eventful night.

Even though you have no idea what Minho did the rest of the night, you don't want to think too much about it, especially after what you've done behind him.

Thankfully, Lana hasn't announced any rule breaks yet and you can sleep in peace for tonight.

You walk to the bedroom in heavy steps and hate that you're feeling scared that Minho suddenly decides to sleep with someone else after being busy flirting with everyone the whole night.

You never know with him and this time, there's no excitement, it's just anxiety. You push the door with your shoulder and find the bed is still empty, you reckon he's still washing up.

Jack flashes you a smile as you get under the cover and it's only making you more anxious. You get startled when the bed shifts as Minho climbs from the other side.

Since he's not that cuddly of a person, you take his arm out so you can rest your head on it and snuggle close to his side, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

"How was your night, my beautiful man?" You ask, your hand gently rubbing down his clothed chest.

"Good," he replies, twirling his finger around the thin strap of your black tank top.

"I can make it better," you whisper, lowering your hand down until your fingers meet the waistband of his boxer.

He looks at you and one corner of his mouth raises into his signature half-smirk, "No one is stopping you."

Bryan catches the two of you being suspicious and points it out at everyone, "Hands where I can see them!" He orders.

Instead of complying, Minho shoves your other hand under the cover and keeps them there.

"Minho, man, come on!" Bryan hopelessly scolds him.

It's in the dark that Minho once again starts his exploration.

He pulls you by the waist until there's not an inch of gap left between your bodies, you perfectly mold into his body as he spoons you from behind.

As he presses his lips on the nape of your neck, his hand traces the side of your body, stopping on the back of your thigh to squeeze the soft flesh there.

"I've been good tonight," he whispers to you.

You softly chuckle, not expecting that he'll be asking for what you promised him.

Without turning, you softly slip your hand in his hair, "Really?"

He places a long peck on your jaw, "mmh."

You turn to lay on your stomach and prop a hand under your head, leisurely looking at his beautiful face in the dark.

The plan was you're going to tease him just like he did with you the other night but after what you did and the assurance you got from that misbehavior. You want to show him that you don't want to play a game tonight, or ever again.

Tenderly, you caress his face and hold his jaw as you lean in, kissing him so slowly yet passionately. Minho seems to sense that there's something different about the kiss.

He brushes your hair to the side and holds it there as he returns the kiss to you, his other hand is slipped under your tanktop, splayed on your back with his thumb faintly rubbing the skin.

If only breathing wasn't necessary, you would keep kissing him.

You pull away and press your head close to the side of his head, placing little kisses on his jaw.

"That's money well spent," you comment.

He turns his head to face you and it only entices you to kiss him again but immediately refrain out of the fear of being head-locked by Bryan's giant arms tomorrow.

You sweetly kiss his cheek and lowly mutter, "Goodnight!"

Minho glides his hand up to your neck and looks at you, "Goodnight!"

YOU: Honestly, I wasn't thinking of Minho when I kissed Jack but after it happened, it only got to me then that I really like him.

When you wake up, anxiety dawns on you.

You feel sick in the stomach when Lana chimes in and lights up in the corner of the room.

"Good morning, everyone!"

You silently plead that Lana would not drop the news this soon. Not when you just woke up from a nice, long sleep with Minho cuddling you all night.

"Morning," you meekly answer with a yawn at the end and accidentally meet Agnes's eyes on the next bed, exchanging a knowing, uneasy glance.

"Today's weather will be sunny with highs of 82⁰ Fahrenheit and there will be zero chance of sex."

Jai breaks into laughter and puts his arm around Agnes's shoulder, "She's fucking quality, she is."

The day barely started, you can already tell it's not going to be a good one. You're counting down the minutes or even seconds until Lana tells everyone all of your sins.

YOU: I'm a bit on edge. Not a bit actually. I'm on THE edge.

Even after a session of yoga with Alia, doesn't help you relax at all.

You've done this plenty of times before, going from one casual partner to another in the blink of an eye and never feeling the slightest bit guilty about it. You don't know what changed when you're playing the same game and the only difference is that you're doing it with Minho.

It's after you showered and are immersed in the girl's talk while doing your make-up you finally can have a little peace.

"Have you cracked big boy Bryan yet?" You ask Zara.

Zara carefully swipes the brush on her cheekbones to apply some highlighter, "Girl, as if!"

"That big body comes with a tough personality too," Agnes comments, squinting her eyes to draw a neat line of black eyeliner.

"When we cuddle in bed, he locked me with his arms to make sure I didn't do anything," Zara rants, borrowing your pencil liner without asking.

"You should be grateful that he didn't headlock you to sleep," Alia chimes in as she braids her hair in front of the mirror.

You and Agnes are breaking into laughter at the same time.

That's when Lana decides that it's time for judgment. The cone chimes, startling everyone in the dressing room.

"Hello, girls!" She says.

Zara fans her eyes as she just puts on her fake lashes, "What's up, Lana?"

"Please gather everyone to the cabana!" She orders.

You exchange a knowing and uneasy glance with Agnes as your heart is beating out of your chest. Every step you take to get to the cabana is getting heavier the closer you get there.

There's a space next to Minho on the sofa but sitting next to him will only make you more anxious. You sit in the middle between Luca and Maisie, it's safer to be out of Minho's sight.

"I wonder who kissed who?" Luca asks with a haunting tone.

YOU: Counting my own mistakes, I know for sure that I broke the rules three times [shakes head in disappointment]

Your concern is not the money.

You believe someone else broke a rule or two as well. For example, everyone knew about Jai and Agnes's kiss at the beach.

Also, you're not afraid to admit the ones you committed together with Minho, it's the other ones that you're not proud of.

The sickening sound of Lana coming online makes your heart drop to your stomach.

"Hello, everyone!"

You can't find it in you to reply to her and awkwardly smile in response while everyone else is weakly returning her greeting.

"You were brought here to form deeper emotional connections and were given rules to adhere to. Those rules forbid sexual contact."

Even though Lana is a high-tech virtual assistant, you can hear in her voice that she's not pleased with everyone.

"Despite this, yesterday, your flagrant disregard for the rules has resulted in a deduction of $21,000."

There is a mix of shrieks, gasps, and curses happening all at once. Well, at least, now you know you're not the only one spending the money.

"You guys are blowing it," Alia says in disappointment.

"In total, there were seven rule breaks," Lana shares further details.

YOU: I contributed three out of those seven rule breaks but who did the other four? [squints eyes]

"Time to fess up!" Bryan calls the shot.

Everyone is looking at each other and trying to see any guilty faces. After a while, Minho points at you and calmly says, "I kissed her twice."

Now, that's a man. Minho doesn't falter as he owns up to his misdeeds and even says that it was he who kissed you when in fact, you were the first one to cave in to the temptations.

Maybe it's because of how fast Minho comes clean about it or it could be because of how overwhelming for him to know that two rules have been broken, Bryan only sighs and then moves on to find where the rest of the money went, "how about the other five?"

You gulp air again and pass the turn to someone else. Jai has the worst poker face he can't keep himself from grinning, "We did too," he says while half laughing, "You guys knew we did it on the beach once and did it again last night."

Agnes is looking down on her lap as Jai admits everything and adds an apology at the end, "I'm sorry, you guys!"

Bryan closes his eyes and his eyelids flutter, "Okay then, anyone else?"

Luca who's sitting next to you suddenly raises his hand, "I kissed Maisie last night," he confesses.

That is not what you expect and you're aware that you're getting in between them by sitting there. You didn't know Maisie had given up on Minho already.

"Just once!" He quickly adds.

Maisie even backs him up right after, "We shared a moment and we wanted to see if there's chemistry."

That shocks everyone but Bryan seems to give him a pass for only breaking one rule. Not sure what he'll do when he finds out about the last two rule breaks.

Agnes has been avoiding everyone's eyes and you don't expect much from Jack, he's staying quiet because no one suspects anything because he's harmless and the youngest.

YOU: But I have to be honest, right?

"I kissed Jack," you blurt out.

There's a long pause then Zara snaps her head in your direction, "What?"

Luca laughs next to you, "Look at him, sitting there all quiet," he says and keeps laughing afterward

A grin blooms on Jack's face, maybe it's the grand scene that he's been pictured in his head that he's not what everyone thought he was.

"Well, it's obviously because I like her," he shortly explains.

He rubs his chin and continues speaking, "And I don't regret that one if I'm being honest."

You've been avoiding looking at Minho's direction but you get the urge to see his reaction, not sure what you're expecting but he looks strangely calm about this.

When he's about to look your way, you hurriedly look away though.

You turn to look at the other culprit who's smiling like an angel next to her guy and you can't go down on your own.

"Agnes!" You call and wait until she looks at you to say, "You kissed Jack too!'

"WHAT?" Zara gasps and then covers her mouth, her eyes widen in surprise.

"Why did you do that?" Bryan asks since she's sitting close to her.

Jai who's sitting next to her looks not pleased at all, leaning back with his hands balled into fists on his sides. You would love to see Minho get a little upset too but when you glance his way, he looks not bothered at all.

Now that the offenders have admitted their crimes, Lana can announce the damages done to the prize money.

"I must also inform you that with these multiple rule breaks that happened in the last 24 hours, I have been left with no choice but to double the fine as of this moment."

Bryan's face drops onto his big hands and brushes his head to the back, making his combed hair disheveled in a second.

"Which means $42,000 has been deducted from the prize fund."

There are moans and groans of complaints but there's nothing anyone can do except try to keep their hands to themselves from now on.

"No more spending!" Bryan remarks, crossing his muscular hands together to form the letter X.

Everyone else is nodding in agreement but with almost a quarter of the prize money lost in one day, you're not the only one feeling pessimistic that there would be money left at the end of the retreat.

YOU: That means I spent $18,000 in one night? Whoops.

What makes them think that doing bondage in a workshop would help to take your mind off sex?

You're not sure if that's what the workshop is going to be but you see the waxed ropes and that's the first thing you have in mind.

"Today, we're going to learn Shibari," the guest sex expert announces.

"An ancient Japanese technique used to improve intimacy and trust in relationships," she shares with everyone.

Minho and you have no problem with intimacy but with what you've done recently, it seems that Minho is likely to have a trust issue with you.

"It's a bit more risque but it really does teach people how to trust which is the foundation for any long-lasting relationship," the expert further explains.

"Have you guys ever played with bondage, handcuffs, or any type of restraints?" The expert asks.

A few raise their hands in pride and you see Minho as the experimental type, always open to everything. You don't see him raising his hand, he's too busy shielding his face from the sun.

You take the first turn and can't decide which one you want to do, you haven't done this. Picking up the smaller rope in red color, you decide to do the simplest one called the Hand Prayer tie.

Minho doesn't need to be told, he puts both hands together in front of him and lets you tie rope around it.

"It goes around the middle fingers," he instructed.

As expected, Minho knows how to do this. It's a piece of information that both excites and scares you but in the best way.

After a lot of errors, you are finally done and not impressed with how you didn't tie the rope tight enough that Minho has no problem taking it off without your help.

YOU: Oh, yep, just exactly what Minho needs right now: tie me up.

"Are you ready?" Minho asks as he takes the bigger rope in the color black.

Now that he's about to tie you, you suddenly get a little nervous too.

"No," you answer with a low laugh.

He starts by turning you around, making you stand with your back facing him, not allowing you to see which knot he's going to do with.

"Hands to the back," he orders with his head looming on your shoulder.

You comply right away, putting your hands to the back.

"Shibari is based on power play. When you're the person with the rope, the rigger, you're actually the one who is surrendering and trusting your partner," the expert says as she walks around watching everyone tying each other up.

That's what you're going to do, you're going to trust Minho and he'll be having too much fun with it but he'll do nothing to hurt you.

The second the rope brushes with your skin, you feel a chill down your spine and when Minho pulls them, tightening them around your wrists, you let out a low moan.

Once he's done with the hands, he tidies the ends of the rope before instructing you to lay on your stomach on the mat

You're getting even more nervous as he bends your legs to the back and ties them together.

"Too tight?" He asks.

You test the knot by twisting your ankles together but it doesn't budge at all, "mmh," you hum in answer.

"Good," he calmly responds.

If this is his way of getting back at you then you just have to accept it. You should be grateful that he doesn't tie the rope around your neck.

He then brings your hands and legs together, tying them with the rest of the rope. He pulls at it to make sure the knot is securely tied.

You try to wiggle your body and try any way you can to break away but it's a fruitless effort, you're running out of breath from lying on your stomach for too long.

Minho notices and helps you to turn over, but your hands are now pressed under your body as you lay on your back.

"I can't get out of this," you tell him as he stands, towering over your body.

"No, you can't," he says with a malicious grin.

Minho then lays next to you on the mat, scoots closer to shield you from the sun, and then props a hand under his head as he enjoys watching you helplessly lying next to him.

"You're enjoying this," you say.

That's a wrong thing to say because he hasn't started yet. He picks a flower from the plant near him and uses it to caress your body, dragging the soft petal down the front of your body.

He knows that it does things to you and he can see it from the way your chest is heaving as the flower reaches to your lower abdomen.

Your legs are slightly shaking as he drags it lower and then stops right on the elastic band of your bikini bottom, tugging the flower there.

YOU: I must say it's the best kind of punishment. I don't even think it's a punishment [winks]

"Why did you kiss him?"

You know that Zara has been waiting to ask you that from the moment she found out about it.

You dab your face with a layer of foundation to get ready for the night, "I don't know. I was having fun."

She gives you a scolding look and tips her head to the side, "Girl!"

"I know but at that time I was feeling like... You know, it was so easy to break the rules," you honestly answer because you did feel that way.

There was nothing intimate about the kiss with Jack, if anything it was selfish of you to spend money on a meaningless kiss. You can see now how foolish you were for doing that.

"But instead of upset, I am so jealous of you," she says with a sad sigh.

You get quiet because you know how hard it is for her to even try to tempt Bryan to break the rules with her.

"He didn't even let me cuddle him," she adds.

It's a good thing that Bryan wants to be on Lana's good side but he disregards Zara's opinions about it, putting her needs aside which makes him just as selfish as you are.

YOU: The plan is I'm going to look hot, be a good girl, and talk to Minho. Wish me luck [Crosses fingers]

Taking a glass of drink to fuel your courage, you check if Minho is in a good mood before coming and start talking to him.

"Can I sit with you?" You ask for his permission when you usually would plop down next to him without asking.

He glances up and nods, "Yeah."

Minho doesn't talk much and you should be used to his short, concise answers but it seems a little different tonight, there's an edge to it.

You sit next to him and put a space in between, "You look good tonight," you compliment.

Minho is indeed looking good tonight. That's why he model, because everything looks good on him but you bet that he looks better with nothing on.

He tips his head to one side and looks at the dress you're wearing, "You too," he compliments back with a thin smile.

A little attention is better than nothing. You sweetly smile and mutter, "Aw, thank you!"

Before you forget your initial reason because of just one compliment, you remind yourself that you come to talk.

"So... how are we feeling?" You ask, testing the water before diving right into it.

"About what?" He innocently asks.

You lick your lips before answering, "About the kiss."

"Which kiss?"

Your palms are getting sweaty on your lap. It's like whatever answer you're going to give him would be a wrong one.

"Our kisses or...?" He asks again because you stay quiet.

You take a breath and try to slowly explain everything, "I think the kisses we shared are special. I can see that we have chemistry and connection."

He tilts his head low enough to give you the stare, "If that's so then why did you kiss someone else?"

You keep your calm and answer, "That kiss with Jack, it was nothing. I don't have any feelings for him so you don't have to worry about that."

Minho responds with a nod but no words come out of his slightly parted mouth.

YOU: I usually just walk away from a situation like this and stop caring about it but I want to make this work with him.

"Are you mad at me?" You ask because that's what you're dying to know.

He's been too calm that you start to think that he probably doesn't like you to even care about it but he only replies with a shrug.

"I don't want you to be mad at me because I do like you," you tell him to get an answer out of him.

He stares at you and makes you wait in anticipation to get a response from him. After a while, he leans back on the sofa and says, "We'll see."

You usually like the mystery those words bring whenever Minho says that but not this time.

"'We'll see'? What is that supposed to mean?" You ask in pure confusion.

"I need time," he answers.

You scoff and try to process his answer, "You want me to sit around and wait for like what? A week? Ten days?"

He slumps down the sofa and spreads his legs, casually he says, "I need time to get over it so until then... We'll see."

YOU: I kissed Jack because I saw Minho flirting with the other girls so why am I the only one having to wait for him to come around?

"Okay," you meekly say even though you're not sure that he'll get over it before the retreat ends.

You think that this is possibly his way to keep his options open or maybe that your fear is true, he doesn't like you that much. You just like to play games with each other.

"Are we still going to sleep in the same bed?"

"I don't know," he replies.

This is probably the right time to cut everything off before you get too attached to him when the options are still wide open and who knows that Lana will bring more guests to the retreat, there are many possibilities so why do you have to trap yourself in such a confusing situation and wasting your time on one guy?

You look away and shrug, "Okay, alright."

YOU: If Minho doesn't want to give me what I want then I'll just have to get it from someone else.

You're not tired but you're so ready for bed. You brush your hair quickly before going to the bedroom.

You don't look around but going to Jack's bed, you put the duvet away and say, "Come on, you're sleeping with me tonight," you tell him.

He looks taken aback but awkwardly follows you as you climb onto the bed you shared with Minho for the past two days.

Agnes is giving you the questioning look but just like everyone else, they don't say anything but let the drama unfold.

You get under the cover with him and turn to the side to look at him, "Are you cuddly, Jack?"

He pauses for a moment then says, "I am."

"I love good cuddles."

"Yeah?" He asks with a gleeful grin and eyes that are filled with hopeful glints.

"Of course."

YOU: I told you, Jack is my cute boy toy.

You slip your hand in his curls and play with it, at the same time, watching the door because Minho can come at any minute now.

"Your hair is so soft," you comment.

The door swings open and Minho steps inside, stopping on his track for a second to see that someone else has taken his spot.

The brief look he gives you is enough to make you gulp air, he's saying nothing but has to share a bed with Alia.

The silence is suffocating as everyone watches intently every gesture or expression on either you or Minho to get any hints about what's happening between the two of you.

Their eyes are going back and forth because your beds are facing each other.

"Don't you feel a little hot, Jack?" You ask.

"Uhm..." he hums as he thinks of an answer to such an easy question, "I think so."

You sit on the bed and look in Minho's direction, not necessarily seeing him eye to eye. You take your top off, not caring that this will be broadcasted all over the world and everyone can see your tits.

"Oh... fuck..." you hear Jack curses under his breath next to you.

Minho takes a sip of water from his tumbler and you can see that his jaw tensed as he swallows his water.

Once the lights are out, you get under the cover and turn to the side to face Jack. For someone who kissed two girls at once, he's playing safe by keeping his hands away from you.

You lean in close to his pillow, "How was your day?"

He rakes his brain to answer another simple question, "Can't complain," he answers.

You giggle because of how cute he is, how oblivious to the fact that you're using him to make Minho jealous. When you think about the kiss you shared with him, he isn't that bad of a kisser, he was too excited at that time to focus on using his skill.

You kind of want to give him a second chance so you lean in closer and ask him, "What do you think about spending 6 grand tonight?"

YOU: We'll see? No, Minho. You'll see.

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nohoperadio · 6 days

Text

That cool bee book I was talking about a while ago mostly refrains from philosophical digressions (which I think is a strength, I appreciated how the author had total confidence that just clearly presenting the facts about his subject would be enough to make a fascinating book without the need for any "...and here's why that should blow your mind" editorializing, and he's totally right), but there was one towards the end I've found myself thinking about a lot, which is: he wants people to stop using "self-consciousness" (i.e. the concept exemplified by the mirror test but used implicitly or explicitly in tons of other contexts) as a criterion for which animals can be considered sentient/morally relevant/having significant inner lives/however you want to describe it. Not, as you might expect, because he thinks it's an unreasonably high bar to meet, but because it's such a low bar that it produces no distinctions: he argues that basically any animal with any kind of developed central nervous system has to have some kind of self-consciousness almost by definition.

The example I remember best is: imagine you can see an object in your visual field getting closer to you. No matter the specifics, it's obviously always going to make a huge difference to how you evaluate this situation whether the cause of the object getting closer is a] the object is moving towards you, or b] you are moving towards the object. If a, then something might be pursuing you or falling on you or a thousand other things that are just not even worth considering in the case of b. But visually the two cases are indistinguishable; if you're going to be able to track the difference, your brain has to be putting at least some work into keeping tabs on what your own intentions are and what choices you're making as you move through the world, predicting the expected consequences of those choices, and maintaining a fairly tidy mental separation between stuff in the world that you're making happen and stuff in the world that's just happening of its own volition. Otherwise, every time you walk towards a rock you'll freak out and think the rock is rolling into you, or vice versa.

And it's not hard to see how this applies to your entire sensory world right, it applies to sounds and tactile sensations and even feelings internal to your body to some extent, if you're going to both perceive the world and take actions in the world then it's mandatory to mentally separate yourself and the world before that's going to yield even an ounce of helpful information, you just can't function successfully on the most basic level if you're processing stuff that you're doing on the same level as stuff that's happening, if you're in that state then you simply don't have a usable model of the world at all, you just have chaos.

So you can very easily eliminate a certain seductive narrative about the evolution of consciousness, which starts with very primitive animals who are mentally processing nothing but basic sensory inputs, then as you rise up the chain more complex animals are forming concepts of objects and building up a more nuanced understanding of the world, until finally you approach humans and the mind becomes so subtle and sophisticated that it gains access to this special advanced meta-level of thought where it can even understand itself! No, the self is precisely the one idea that has to be in place from the very beginning, before any of it has even the most rudimentary practical value. Self-consciousness isn't the pinnacle of the mind's evolution, it's one of the lowest, most basic foundations that everything else builds off of.

I think this is really cool stuff! I don't know enough about the relevant academic philosophy of mind debates to say how far all this does or doesn't speak to that, maybe someone will tell me the "self-consciousness" concept being attacked here is a strawman somehow, I don't know. But it's definitely impacted the way I (just a dumb guy who likes creatures) think about our small small cousins and what their lives might be like and I think it's super interesting. If you think it's interesting too then maybe you wanna buy The Mind of a Bee by Lars Chittka and read it. It's mostly not about this stuff, as I say it's light on philosophy and heavy on bee-life immersion, but if you actually read this whole post then you're probably in the market for that I feel like.

#creatures: they've got a lot going on #I think we'd better just let them get on with it #nohopereadio #uninteresting

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kingtomura · 26 days

Text

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most.

You had no idea what he was up to.

Maybe he was as depressed as you were.

Maybe he’s found someone else.

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura.

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw.

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that.

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.

But things are always easier said than done.

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull.

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.

“Stop walking away from me!”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.

Cat and mouse.

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.”

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.

“Tomura…”

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”

And it’s the truth.

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

Note

hi!!!! so i absolutely adore ur writing and was wondering if you could do angst. idk if this is up your alley or anything but if it’s not you don’t have to write it dw abt it!

so basically vox x reader

reader is really sad bc something happened and just isn’t in the mood for vox when he comes home from work. so vox being himself is annoying and instead of reader being mad or even like having a reaction (she’s usually a dom btw) she just like breaks down. ik this is a little random but i think it’s a pretty cute idea. have a nice day/night xxx

a/n — I had a TERRIBLE day so here’s this hurt/comfort fic to cope.

Vox’s shit-eating grin slowly faltered before completing dropping as he took in the situation. He barely even remembered what he’d said but, obviously, you didn’t take it well.

He felt a pang of guilt as he looked at you on the couch, crying into your hands. He knew you were in a bad mood when he got home. Of course, he didn’t know just how bad of a mood.

He saw your irritation right off that bat, he had asked what was wrong and you had brushed him off, snapping at him slightly.

That’s about when Vox had decided to escalate the situation. Throwing annoying taunts at you, teasing you, begging for you to do something about it.

Of course he wanted a reaction, but more on the lines of you slamming him against a wall and putting him in his place. Under no circumstances did he think you would start crying.

And yet, here you were, crying into your hands on the couch, over some bratty remark Vox had made.

“I— uh, my dear, I didn’t mean anything—“ he tried to clarify, stretching his arm slightly out as if to touch you. He wasn’t sure what to do.

“Shut up, Vox,” you cried, “Don’t you know when to shut up?” Your words weren’t laced with venom or overly angry liked he’d expected. In fact, that would have been better.

In contrast to your usual nature, you just seemed overall sad. More than sad, Vox thought, totally spent.

It was no secret he was terrible at comforting people, giving people false hope and manipulating them into doing something for him, sure. But this?

Well, convincing someone they feel better and actually making someone feel better were incredibly different. He was totally lost.

Your sobs got louder and more violent as moments passed. And yet, he stood there like an idiot, giving you a blank stare.

As if going through the motions, he recites a list in his mind. What to people usually do to help someone when they’re crying? Maybe, give them a hug?

He sighed and sat down next to you on the couch, cautiously putting his hand your shoulder and rubbing gently.

Apologize next, Vox’s mental list demanded.

“Look,” he started, awkwardly fiddling with his collar, “I didn’t mean to bother you by giving you all that shit. I knew you weren’t in the mood I just—“

He struggled with the next part, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

The strange thing is, he really really meant it. Usually, an apology for Vox was one step further in getting what he wanted all along. However, this time the fact he made you cry actually erked him like nothing else before.

He apologized solely because he wanted you to feel better.

“I’m just not in the mood for your shit, Vox,” you answer, choked out and muffled as you wipe the tears from your face.

“I know. Well, now I do.” He went over his metal list once more, “So what’s got you so out of sorts this evening, my dear?”

“I’ve just—“ you sniff, trying to take in your thoughts, “—I’ve had a long day.”

“I’m all ears,” he answers immediately. If there’s one thing Vox was good at, it was listening.

You rant to him about the mishaps of the day, how fed up you were with so-and-so, how tired you were of life being so hard.

The entire time, Vox listened, plotting the perfect reply out in his mind, and checking off boxes on his list.

“Well, it’s over now, your home. And I won’t be an asshole anymore,” He says, earning a raised eyebrow from you.

“I’ll try not to be an asshole anymore,” he corrects, provoking a small but noticeable smile out of you. He rewards himself, internally.

Hug them, he told himself.

He moved closer to you and hesitantly wrapped his arms around your stomach, rubbing your back gently. To his delight, you ease into the hug, arms looping around his neck as you recovered from your breakdown.

“You’re so not getting laid tonight, by the way,” you joke, still in the hug.

“Yes, my dear. Unfortunately, I figured.” he sighed and continued rubbing your back.

“Do you wanna go watch TV upstairs?” you inquire.

“Always,” he grinned.

“Do you wanna keeping hugging while we do that,” you ask, genuinely curious.

His smile softened, “always.”

a/n — and then the next day you railed him into a mattress until he was crying harder than you ever were. The end.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel fluff

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delirious-donna · 2 months

Text

Awake At The Witching Hour [Part Four]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: You can't sleep and it seems your handsome host can't either. What is there to do in the middle of the night?

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: NSFW, mutual masturbation (but separate, you’ll get the gist), Nanami being pent up, imaginations running wild (both Nanami and reader), cumshot, reader described as being generous and soft in body

Part Three | Series Masterlist | Part Five

The witching hour. When it is said that the veil between worlds is at its thinnest, and the power of the nefarious is at its strongest.

You weren’t entirely sure what had roused you. No sense of fear gripped your heart so you doubted it was due to some bad dream, though it had taken a moment to remember where you were.

Black velvet darkness impaired your vision at first, drowsiness adding to your inability to pick out the details of the room you were lying in. The air was pleasantly cool against your warm sleep-soaked skin. You pushed back the duvet to feel the faint breeze play across the soft squidge of your abdomen—the oversized t-shirt you wore pushed up to your chest in the disarray of a tumultuous sleep.

The events of the day unfurled in your mind’s eye like a low budget movie. It still didn’t feel real, though you well remembered the blind panic and sense of anger then irritation at being walked in on whilst bathing. No, not walked in, leapt in on. Now that you knew Nanami Kento a little better it was hard to fight the smile that rose to your lips in memory.

He seemed so different at that moment, the booming “booo” not something you would ever expect from the rigid man he had been since then. You wondered if he was a little more relaxed with his friends and loved ones. Did he even have friends?

A suspicion told you that he was the type to keep to himself, or maybe one or two close friends at most. That was relatable, and made him all the more human in your eyes. What might he be like as a boyfriend, you wondered? Attentive and loving or distant and cold? Either was possible, as well as a multitude of other attributes and combinations.

Sighing deeply, you turned onto your side and pulled the covers up to your chin now that your body had cooled from the stream of air that crept in from the ajar window. A glance at your phone told you it was late—an hour you should be asleep at—but you were annoyingly awake.

It seemed the only thing on your mind was that of the man asleep in the room next to yours. A man that didn’t want anything to do with you, a perfect stranger. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder… couldn’t help but fantantise that he could be interested. If he were to knock on your door right now, his hazel eyes, dark pools speared with lightning, and desire evident on his cheeks you would welcome him.

Did he sleep naked? The thought of all that glorious skin bare beneath covers that matched the ones you were snuggled under sent a throb directly between your legs. You were developing a second heartbeat at an alarming rate and it was all his fault. It was ridiculous how good looking he was, and what made it worse was he didn’t seem to know it. You imagined your fingers running through his neatly parted hair and knew he would look even sexier with it all mussed. The just fucked look.

He was well built and definitely strong. Biceps didn’t bulge against shirt sleeves in the way his did if you weren’t bench pressing a decent amount regularly. That and the small home gym were more than enough to know with certainty that if he meant business, you’d be in a heap of trouble. In the best way. Your mind whispered, and you felt fiery warmth fill your cheeks.

You weren’t honestly sure when your hand had begun to stray.

The peaks of your nipples rubbed against your shirt, thumb and finger tweaking the sensitive buds and rolling them deftly until your thighs pressed together at the crave for friction. It was wrong to be thinking such lewd thoughts of your generous host—unwilling as he might have started out—but you couldn’t stop. Kento’s broad frame filled your mind, the looming shadow dwarving you enough to make you feel diminutive by comparison, and equally as thrilled.

The laboured breathing of his barreled chest hard to resist, the rise and fall evidence of a man close to the limit of his restraint and you badly wanted to reach out and touch him. Wild desire radiating from his every pore like a heady musk that you inhaled greedily, longing to become entirely intoxicated by him. Who would break first in the game of lust and longing? Regardless of the answer, there would be no loser.

This was so wrong. So stupendously wrong, not to mention, futile. A veil of madness shrouded the bed and you couldn’t stop nor did you actually wish to. In the darkest part of the night your deepest desires unfolded in perfect clarity. He ticked so many boxes and left question marks in many more. An enigma that you longed to solve. A riddle that you wanted to crow over the answer when it finally revealed itself.

Nanami Kento…

Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, eyes widened at the searing heat you encountered. The skin of your pubic mound was warm to the touch, but as you raked through the neatly trimmed hairs and moved closer to the heart of your sex, it increased tenfold. You might have hissed if you weren’t concerned with making any noise that could alert the object of your arousal. Wetness glided over the pads of your fingertips, sticky and abundant. It spread along your plump folds engorged with blood until your tented knees butterflied outwards and you could feel the twitching urge to toy with your clit.

What would he think of this madness? A young woman intent on masturbating to the thought of him. Would he deepen that permanently etched scowl and reprimand you? And why did even the idea of that outcome spark the ends of your nerves with raw electricity?

Speaking of the man in question, he was awake. Blinking into the darkness as if the ceiling held the answer to his current dilemma. That dilemma being the tent in his tight navy boxer briefs.

Without looking, he palmed himself and manoeuvred his cock to lie flush against his thigh. There. Now it didn’t appear like he was pitching a tent that could sleep a family of four. Instead, the heat of his erection seeped into him and roused his mind all the more.

His dreams had been a jumbled black and white mess, an indicator for the state of his mind. Sleep had found him easily, but the wrinkled and twisted covers showed that it had not been a sound slumber.

Kento puffed, grumpy and aching. He couldn’t recall the last time he wrapped his palm around himself to let off some steam. It had always seemed like a poor use of his time. Opting for cold showers to numb his swollen member, focusing on getting in a rigorous albeit begrudged workout in before the commute to work.

He baulked at the realisation he hadn’t cum in nearly six months. The last time he entertained the idea of dating even further back than that. So what was different?

You. You were something different. Smiling before he could school his features into neutrality, he surmised that your presence was fucking with more than just his routine. It was you that he thought of when he adjusted himself, trying and failing not to think of your smaller fingers around his shaft.

“What is wrong with me?”

He recalled the smile you gifted him when you parted ways for the night, how your small hand had once again reached out to lightly touch his bicep in thanks for carrying your small suitcase into the room. His cock twitched in response. Groaning, he smacked the pillow next to him over his face. If he were a dog his tail would be wagging. Not just a dog, more like a mongrel.

Kento swore your scent lingered in his room. The wafts of your perfume were stronger in the bathroom and he tried to ignore the subtle sweetness even as it infused inside his nose. Right now, it seemed to have settled into his sheets and he longed to bury his nose in the high count cotton and inhale deeply. Nothing was dissuading him from lowering the band of his briefs until he stood proudly erect.

Maybe if he satisfied the urge now, the fog that clouded his judgement would clear and all would be right again. That was what he told himself while pulling back the covers to free himself. Precum dribbled from the angry slit of his cockhead, turning the near purple tip glossy and sticky.

His thumb swiped through the mess and his hips rose instinctively. Behind his shuttered eyelids he saw you approach the bed, generous hips swaying clad in the softest satin. In truth, he couldn’t give a fuck for expensive lingerie, but it was aesthetically pleasing and this was his fantasy so why not indulge? He’d be just as happy to greet you in sweats or better yet… his shirt.

Oh fuck.

The tendons in his neck strained, head thrown back whilst he pumped himself lazily at first. Would you be shy in bed? Assertive? Would you drop your jaw to let your tongue run over the seam of his balls whilst using that quick witted mouth of yours on him?

The unknown was almost more tantalising to him than the act itself. It had been so long since the experience of working someone out appealed to him. To learn their nuances and what made them tick. More specifically, your nuances and what made you tick.

With months of denying himself under his belt, it didn’t take long for Kento to feel that familiar tingle begin at the small of his back. His balls drew tight and full, and he flushed a darker red at how easily he was ready to cum. His free hand clenched into a fist, the cotton of the sheets held tightly whilst his toes curled. A guttural groan escaped his throat before he could smother it, quickly biting his lip as spurts of hot cum lashed his quivering stomach. Warm honeyed pleasure dripped in inversion from the bottom of his spine to the base of his skull until his eyes rolled over.

Kento slowed the stroke of his hand, wringing his cock of every last drop until he was close to whimpering from the sensitivity. Panting from the far too quick ejaculation, his eyebrows pinched at the mess he had made. Streaks of milky release pooled near his navel, his hand and softening cock sticky and webbed from the moment of madness. As soon as he was certain his legs would work, he trudged into the bathroom to clean up with guilt weighing heavy in his gut.

A similar sensation burned in the pit of your stomach. Your chest heaved from the release you’d found, but it came at a price and now you were paying it.

You didn’t regret your actions but there was still a guilt associated with them. You were two unattached adults, and you couldn’t deny or sweep aside your attraction to Kento any longer, but he was Karin’s brother. He should be forbidden. You wouldn’t give oxygen to the mean voice in your head that said she deserved it for not telling you about him sooner.

The little pulsing aftershocks of your orgasm were fading, fingers sticky from how you had done your best to fuck yourself before switching to manipulating your sensitive pearl until white sparked in your vision. All the while you thought of how it would look to have his head between your thighs, his mouth on your pussy and your fingers tangled in his hair. Would he eat you sloppily or bite at the tender inside of your thighs? Would he welcome you rutting yourself against his mouth or would he hold your hips steady?

You sat up, legs wobbly when your feet fell to the floor. The bathroom wasn’t far and you needed to clean up and change your underwear. The reflection in the mirror over the sink looked hesitant despite the soft glow your skin exuded. A healthy dose of dopamine and the pump of blood circulating your body brightened you up even though it was the middle of the night, and you looked away with a troubled sigh.

The apartment was silent, your footsteps the only sound as you tiptoed barefoot into the kitchen for a glass of water before heading back to bed. Leaning your forehead against the cabinet, you listened to the rushing water for a moment or two longer than necessary before filling a glass and taking a sip. The sound masked the footsteps that approached, pausing then continuing on.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A strangled scream caught fast in your throat, muffled by the water now rushing down the wrong way and making you cough and splutter. You whirled on the spot and came face to chest with the man you had spent the last half hour pleasuring yourself to the thought of.

Kento was bare chested—a fact your bulging eyes couldn’t believe—with a faint smattering of ash-coloured hairs decorating between his meaty pectorals and leading down towards his stomach. You didn’t dare follow it any further for fear of knowing whether it went right down to his happy trail, a fact that most definitely would see you moaning aloud.

A pair of pale blue pyjama trousers hid the rest of him and you were grateful for that. He stalled next to the kitchen island, an unreadable expression on his face, and were his ears red? It would be comical if you weren’t burning with mortification. Your heartbeat raced so thunderously that it was amazing he couldn’t hear it from across the room.

“I… couldn’t sleep,” you finally offered once you could breathe again without coughing.

His eyes seemed to search your features, whether for signs of lying or something else, you weren’t completely sure. At last, he nodded and walked closer to grab his own glass and fill it with water.

The silence was oppressive, thick and charged with an energy that bristled down Kento’s spine. “Do you need anything?”

Your head snapped around so fast he was surprised you didn’t give yourself whiplash. If he didn’t know any better he would say that warmth seemed to fill your face. The question was innocent but perhaps… no. He was trying to see things that weren’t there.

“An extra pillow. A thicker duvet.” He elaborated when you didn’t answer.

Having this casual conversation was excruciating enough given what he had just done to the image of you in his mind. It was made worse with the realisation that the reality of you was so much more appealing than his imagination could ever conjure.

The almost comically oversized t-shirt you wore dragged nearly to your knees, with the sleeves reaching well past your elbows. It kept your modesty intact and the mystery of it all made his mouth water. Discovering the curves of your body, which parts dipped and the soft rolls of your body would be hours of fun if he were given the chance, not that he would be. He idly wondered if you would look this good in one of his shirts before dismissing the thought, or trying to.

His cock twitched in his clean briefs and he cleared his throat and turned away, terrified of pitching another tent when one was not wanted nor needed. Kento didn’t need to think about how close you were, how all he had to do was reach out a hand and discover whether you would step away or approach. He couldn’t decide which outcome would be the better one.

“No, I don’t need a pillow or anything like that,” you said finally, though you left the sentence hanging because you did want something, but you couldn’t tell him that. “I’m just adjusting to sleeping in a new place, I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, but don’t hesitate if there is something I can do to help.”

You could stop looking like a damn five course meal.

The thought was in your mind so suddenly you nearly gasped, instead, masking it by taking a long gulp of water and walking towards the hallway. You needed to put some distance between you, to retreat to the relative safety of your room and chastise yourself for being no better than a lustful bunny.

With a faux smile and an appreciative nod, you turned one last time to glance at him. “Thank you, Kento.”

Kento watched you slip out of sight, back along the darkened hallway and listened to the soft snick of your bedroom closing shut. He was throbbing, a hand drifted to his crotch to hide what was growing. That was the first time you had called him by his given name, and he liked it.

What a mess, he thought whilst returning to bed. His eyes never wavered from your door until he was safely behind his own. His guts still twisted in memory of his unsavoury actions, but something more pressing was on his mind as he screwed his eyes shut and prayed for sleep.

I want to hear my name from your lips again…

#delirious writes #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff

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grandlinedreams · 2 months

Text

Hi hello unplanned acotar drabble bc I'm exhausted 'n why not use the 'can't sleep' trope? I don't remember if coffee is a thing in acotar but it is now

warnings: uhh poor sleeping habits, tiny touch of angst, reader is Made fae/archeron sibling, fluff

You haven't been sleeping well.

Correction ㅡ you're not sure if you've ever slept well in your life, but you've been sleeping worse as of late.

As in not at all.

Not for lack of trying, quiet plea to Madja for a tonic or tips to help you sleep ㅡ all to no avail. And so you spend most nights wide awake, listening to the soft creak of the other inhabitants and staring up at the ceiling.

It isn't your favorite way to spend so much time given that there's only so much you can think of before you're sinking back into thoughts you've tried so hard to let go of. They cling to you like a second skin, seep and chill your bones like black, brackish water, like ㅡ

You quickly find other ways to occupy your time. Velaris' night sky is beautiful, patchwork blanket of deep blue with silver pinprick stars that you count, try to match constellations with ones you know, catalogued in worn paper from another lifetime. (That often spirals too.)

Perhaps the Cauldron feels bad for what has been done to you, or perhaps it's simply the house taking pity on you ㅡ but as of late when you drag yourself from your room and downstairs, there is a mug of warmth waiting for you.

Steam always curls from the top of it, dark liquid that eddies with just enough cream and sugar to make it pleasant. It chases away the sticky darkness of your thoughts, replaces it with a warmth that spirals from the inside out ㅡ a comfort, when so many things as of late have not been.

With that unspoken charm of warm ceramic at your fingers, you're more content to whittle the hours away in silence. You pretend that you've just woken up when someone else stirs ㅡ often times it's Nesta, who watches you for so long that you wonder if she knows. (She doesn't ask, and you don't tell. Maybe she doesn't have to, the other side of your coin.)

Tonight, however, is different.

Tonight you find yourself with an entirely different sort of company ㅡ in the form of sleek, wisps of shadow ㅡ alive, whirling gently against your cheek, your hair, your hands. And then they're gone, back to their master ㅡ who appears shortly after.

Azriel doesn't announce his presence, but he doesn't have to. You've gotten used to the fact that you can hear him now, can hear most everything ㅡ aware of more than you ever used to be.

All you do is allow the slide of your eyes over his face, his wings, his hands ㅡ and then away. "Good morning."

A flicker of amusement in the gleam of his eyes, the soft huff of air. "It's two in the morning."

You remain steadfast. "Still morning."

He doesn't push further as he approaches, and you can feel his eyes on you ㅡ the clothing you're still getting used to, a subtle opulence that still makes you feel untethered at times ㅡ and the mug nestled between your hands.

"Can't sleep?"

It's an innocent question, a gentle probe at where you are in terms of emotion ㅡ eggshell floor that tends to be how everyone walks around you, Nesta, and Elain as of late.

You shrug. "Something like that." You lapse into silence, and it's Azriel is turning to leave (presumably) that you speak. "I have...strange dreams. And if it isn't that, it's nightmares. So I figure thisㅡ" You gesture, "is better than either of those."

Azriel is silent long enough that you're beginning to feel stupid for saying anything ㅡ and then he says quietly, "May I show you something?"

The something ends up being the offer of taking you for a flight ㅡ only after Azriel has made sure that you're appropriately bundled before he lifts you into his arms. His scent that makes you think of pine and hoarfrost is almost overwhelming ㅡ but his wings are snapping out before you can change your mind, and then you're airborne.

This is so much different than what Feyre had called winnowing ㅡ wind whips at your face and hair, tangling it as you tuck yourself tighter against Azriel's chest. His grip is firm on you, not so much as to hurt or be inappropriate, but enough that you don't feel as though he's going to drop you.

The stars gleam above you, enticing you to look up at them ㅡ and with your face tucked so close to his neck, Azriel doesn't struggle to hear you when you speak.

"I managed to save some of the star charts in my father's office when we..." You trail off for a moment, uncertain of what all he knows from Feyre ㅡ and you point at the glittering cosmos above. "It looks the same."

"Is that a bad thing?"

You press your face against his shoulder, inhaling his pine scent. "No."

Azriel is quiet as he spares a glance at you. You're so very different than your sisters ㅡ not quite as wild as Feyre, nor as angry as Nesta, nor as quiet as Elain. He wishes he could say he doesn't remember much of watching each of you be tossed into the Cauldron ㅡ but he does, everything whispered to him by his shadows.

That you'd come out of it glowing ㅡ briefly, just enough to give the impression of a star, just like the ones above.

"Azriel?" Your call makes him look down, the flick of his eyes over the delicate arch of your ears, the reflection of starlight in your eyes that makes the beat of his wings falter for a brief second. "Will this get easier?"

He doesn't have to ask you what you mean. He could lie to you, placate you with empty words ㅡ but he can't bring himself to do that. So he tightens his grip just a little, tucks you a little firmer to him. "I hope so."

#ㅡmine.#acotar x reader #Az x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader

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wttcsms · 4 months

Note

DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS WITH HIGURUMA PLEASE AND THANK YOU! (and maybe some nsfw if you're up to it?)

a rendering of regret, hiromi higuruma ;

pairing hiromi higuruma x f!reader word count 4.1k synopsis like everyone else who suffers from early onset midlife crisis syndrome, hiromi discovers two important things: he wishes he could fix things between you two and YOLO. like any other man with nothing to lose, he finds himself leaving the city and going back to his hometown, ready to be back in your good graces. content contains drinking, small town that sucks the life out of you but is home as the setting, being disappointed that growing up does not, in fact, solve all your problems, hiromi's mother is heavily implied to have committed su*cide, smut (riding hiromi, creampie, drunk sex)

Returning back to his hometown shouldn’t be as shameful of an ordeal as he makes it out to be, but the thing is, when you make a big show out of outgrowing small-town life, only to come back when it turns out the Real World sucks the soul out of you, it all becomes startlingly clear that you were never supposed to make it out in the first place. Becoming a hotshot attorney in Tokyo quickly disillusions any and all grandeur of being special and adulthood for Hiromi Higuruma, resident prodigy.

It turns out that city living is even worse than a quaint little town because, while there’s really nothing to do back home, there is entirely too much going on in Tokyo. The subway is always crowded and reeks of B.O., cheap perfume, overpowering cologne, and crushed dreams. There is never not a case that needs his immediate attention. With so many people existing all in the same place, at the same time, it somehow becomes increasingly harder to form real, human connections.

He knows that his mental break was long overdue, and honestly, he’s just shocked that his snapping hadn’t occurred sooner. Innocent people get tried for crimes on a daily basis; he knows this. He goes into this job knowing this, and witnesses it firsthand. It shouldn’t hit him so hard, but you told him, once upon a time, that at his core, he’s a good person. Hiromi Higuruma doesn’t think that a good person would punch both the prosecutor and the judge, but it certainly made him feel good.

The justice system is a sham, and growing up sucks. Hiromi thinks that for someone who popped out his mother’s womb a full-blown genius, he was a bit slow on the uptake when it came to realizing these two monumental truths. He decides not to waste any more time on trying to tackle the world’s problems on how he used to do, which is rationally and with a clear-head. Lately, Hiromi’s just been letting the intrusive thoughts win more often than not. He’s certainly not punching judges in the courtroom, but he tests out new experiences when he’s feeling particularly adventurous.

Adulthood is all about being able to take a bath in your suit and tie, and no one can give you shit about it besides yourself. There are absolutely no consequences to doing this, and Hiromi thinks people should advertise adulthood as getting to do batshit crazy things to yourself without fear of a scolding. That is much more realistic and sounds much more promising than bullshit like you’re going to change the world. The world sucks. Everybody sucks. Tokyo sucks. His hometown sucks. He sucks.

Perhaps the only good thing to come out of this life is you. You, Hiromi thinks, are the only person in the world who he can never look at differently.

Hiromi realizes too late that when you spend your whole life running from something, it eventually catches up to you, and it usually does whenever you’re out of breath and decidedly not prepared for life and past regrets to start pummeling you into the gravel. Hiromi has spent literal years avoiding any trace of you, and now he’s back home, probably worse off than he was when he originally decided to ditch this place, and his biggest past regret is standing in the staff lounge, making coffee from the communal coffee machine.

A shame, really. It’s almost embarrassing to be a grown man who gets literal heart eyes whenever he sees you. It’s doubly embarrassing whenever he realizes it’s been a decade since he’s last seen you, and that somehow, you still manage to make his heart get all hyperactive on him.

“Hi, stranger,” you say, pretending like the fucking ghost of Christmas Past isn’t standing in the staff lounge of the community college you work at.

“Hi,” he says, because for all his booksmarts, he can’t seem to come up with anything better. When he first skipped town, not even bothering to walk the stage for graduation, there had been a lot left unsaid between the two of you. Bringing up the past now, dredging up buried memories, seems like a bad idea.

“You must be the new law instructor.”

“Yes.” Apparently, as eloquent as he can be when it comes to defending his clients, he sure as shit is awful when it comes to saying the right thing to you. Then again, there are no instruction manuals to reference when it comes to facing your ex-girlfriend from high school who you never actually properly broken up with, just ghosted.

You stare at him, study him for just a second. Take in his tired appearance. The circles under his eyes. An apathetic expression you aren’t quite used to. Strands of hair still stick up a bit in the back of his head and a few more hang in his face — that, at least, is one thing that hasn’t changed.

“Good for you.” You tell him, and you leave it at that.

Hiromi Higuruma returning back to this shithole is certainly not on your bingo card on situations you thought would occur this year. Growing up, you were convinced more than anybody that Hiromi didn’t belong here. Not because of his appearance or the fact that his household was infamous for being a loveless, lifeless shell of a home and family, but because if anybody was destined for bigger and better things in life, it certainly would be Hiromi.

He’s always been smart, to the point where the teachers would practically give him free rein to do whatever he wanted to during class because he already studied the material beforehand. Usually, he just spent this time helping you with your assignments. You remember making a comment to him in high school one time.

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?” You poke the book he’s ignoring in favor of helping you edit your essay for English Lit.

“No,” he says, eyes glued to your paper. He’s erasing something.

“Sure I am. You could be doing anything else besides editing my paper.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.”

“You shouldn’t.” He’s rewriting a sentence for you. “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.”

“You should stop helping me, Higuruma.”

He finally looks up from the paper. “What?”

“You should stop helping me.” You yank back your essay, unceremoniously shoving it into your bookbag. “It’s bad for me in the long run.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll just keep on depending on you, and then what am I gonna do when you leave?”

You mention this hypothetical as if it’s a fact. As if he is one hundred percent going to ditch this town and everybody in it. At the time you’re saying this, he doesn’t even know he’s going to leave yet.

“What makes you think I’m leaving?”

“You’ll die if you stay here.” Looking back, it’s comical how teenagers have a bad habit of voicing assumptions and then presenting them as fact. Hiromi Higuruma is the type of guy who cares so damn much about people and the state of the world, no matter where he goes, death’s going to follow. Caring is killer.

“Even if I do leave, I’d want you to come with me.” He doesn’t know why he says this, but he knows that it’s the truth. If you want to stay here, that’s the only reason he needs to stay. If you want to go, he’ll have his bags packed.

You search his eyes, looking for a possibility that he’s just saying stuff to appease you. Apparently, you find the sincerity you’re looking for because you give him a bright smile, hands already digging in your bookbag in search of your now-crumbled up essay.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

He seals the deal by interlocking his pinky with yours. This is a sacred act. You made it a strict rule in your friendship, and Hiromi is a stickler for rules. You can’t break a pinky promise; it’s the type of vow that transcends legality. To break a pinky promise would be to break off your friendship, make it null and void. So, when the time to walk the stage and receive your diploma in front of the town comes, you’re confused as to why Hiromi isn’t there. He’s not home, either.

Hiromi left, his dad tells you. He looks like Hiromi, but since that’s his father, it’s the other way around. The only difference, besides the fact that he is a grown-up, is that Mr. Higuruma has what you call dead eyes. Lifeless. Like, he’s looking, but he’s not really seeing what’s there. He talks funny, too. All flat and emotionless, like he’s perpetually unbothered. You can’t even tell how he feels about his son’s departure, or the fact that there’s a teenage girl on his doorstep at seven in the evening, still wearing your cap and gown.

“Do you know where to?” You ask Mr. Higuruma, still hopeful, still feeling the ghost of his pinky twisted around yours.

“Tokyo.”

That checks out. You always knew Hiromi was meant for something more.

“I’m shocked he’s not put behind bars,” Yuki tells you, wiping down the bar counter. “Didn’t you hear what went down in the courtroom with him and that judge?”

It had made the news. You normally don’t care to tune in, but it was something that concerned Hiromi. Of course you heard all about it.

“I just don’t know what he’s doing back here.”

“This place is a dump. ‘Course someone down on their luck is gonna come slinking back in here.”

“Yuki…” You look at your best friend. “Didn’t you technically come back, too?”

“Well I never said I wasn’t down on my luck, now did I?” You can’t imagine someone like Yuki having to come back home with her tail tucked in between her legs. Yuki is the opposite of a loser; while the world beats people to a pulp, Yuki curbstomps the world. If Tokyo managed to send Yuki and Hiromi packing their bags, you don’t want to leave your hometown. Ever.

You meet Hiromi in grade school. Your town is too small to actually have its own public school, and so all the kids from home walk the two miles to the designated bus stop where this ugly, wretched faded yellow deathtrap on wheels comes squeaking and squealing to pick you up and take you all to the nearest city’s school.

Everyone knows that you all are the students from the rinky-dink town that’s such a shithole that it can’t even produce its own school. Finding work in that town is hard enough as it is, but you grow up used to being surrounded by your other financial equals. It’s hard to find your footing amongst a crowd of kids who get new shoes every school year and can afford the fancy crayons. You know, the ones that aren’t just glorified lumps of colored wax that would probably work better as candles instead of cheap art supplies.

Hiromi gets most of the city students’ attention, though. It’s not as if it’s a surprise to you that they like to pick on him for his nose — it’s like the joke’s practically staring them right in the face.

You are surprised, though, that he takes it so hard. He’s sitting alone at the front of the bus, staring out the window, and you think you catch a tear running down his cheek.

You know that Hiromi is always early to a fault; he waits outside for the bus a good thirty minutes before it’s even scheduled to show up, just to ensure that he won’t miss it. You have to get up extra early as a result because you think it would be better to try to make friends with Hiromi without an audience.

Before you can lose all confidence in yourself, you go for it. You take one grubby little hand of yours and swipe awfully close to his face, nearly hitting his nose in the process.

“Got your nose!” You wave your hand in the air, smile slowly falling when you realize that he doesn’t look amused. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”

“How was that supposed to help?” He doesn’t sound mean when he says it. He sounds curious, like he’s genuinely trying to hear you out. You will soon learn that that is the type of person Hiromi is. He might be the only person in the world who doesn’t judge someone within the first five seconds of meeting them.

“Y’know, so when the other kids in school make fun of your nose, you know they’re lying.”

“How would they be lying?”

“‘Cause I got your nose. How are they making fun of something they can’t see?”

Logically, young Hiromi knows that this is not the case. His big, fat nose is still smack dab in the center of his face, and the “nose” you captured is just your tiny thumb tucked under your fingers. Logical thinking is no fun, though, so Hiromi goes with it, and the two of you have been inseparable ever since.

Hiromi Higuruma has a lot of regrets, actually. In his mental tier list, the bottom of the barrel shit is made up of petty things, like not punching his grade school bullies in the face for being little assholes, or not trying Kitakata ramen when he had the chance. Then, there’s the stuff just a level above, which is less-silly things, like how he regrets the way he handled certain cases and the fact that in his haste to return home, he didn’t pack a pair of comfortable house slippers, and the ones he bought at the only convenience store in town feel too stiff.

At the very top, his biggest regrets are all centered around you. This isn’t to say that he regrets you, but he does know that his treatment of you haunts him during the nights he lies awake in bed and wonders why the fuck life sucks so hard. He hates that he didn’t admit to you that he liked you sooner, that he wasted so many of his high school days awkwardly trying to hide the fact that he’s hopelessly devoted to you. He hates that he didn’t get a chance to take you to prom. He hates that he didn’t tell you that he was leaving, that he didn’t think to bring you with him, that he never called or texted after he left because he was too embarrassed and scared at the prospect of you not wanting to hear from him after how he left without a trace. He regrets not telling you why he left, that he caught his father and his mistress together, and how disgusted he felt at seeing such a sight. That the next day, he vowed to tell his mother, only to knock on her bedroom door (it’s no surprise that his parents never shared the same bed for as long as Hiromi could remember), and when she didn’t answer, he opened the door, only to be greeted by her still body in bed, three empty orange pill bottles on the nightstand.

He couldn’t have stayed, and he was rendered speechless. Final transcripts had already been released, and walking for graduation was optional. Hiromi took whatever meager savings he had, clicked “accept” for his college admission to Tokyo U (full-ride, because if anyone was going to get a scholarship based on academic merit, it would be Hiromi), and skipped town. Everything in the world to him appeared to be in shades of black and white, the occasional bright orange catching his eye, haunting him, taunting him.

Life is too short, though. Too short to waste time in bed, in an apartment he hates located in a city he despises, to look back at all his shortcomings. If he could go back in time and do things differently, he would. He wouldn’t have punched that judge or the prosecutor (even if they totally did deserve it), and he wouldn’t have kept his acceptance into Tokyo U a secret from you. He would have taken you to prom, and he would’ve asked you to come with him to Tokyo, escape this dump of a town and take on the big city together. He thinks he probably would have hated Tokyo less if you were with him, you and your nonsensical logic that makes the worst things to ever happen to him suddenly seem bearable.

He should tell you all of this, but he’s drunk because Yuki is manning the bar, and she pours with a heavy hand. He never really spoke to the blonde despite the fact that they grew up down the street from each other, attended school at the exact same time, same grade, same everything. The downside of living here, it seems, is that everyone you’ve ever known is entirely unavoidable. You run into them everywhere. You want to drown your sorrows in amber liquid served in questionable, grimy glassware, and the person aiding in your slow death is the very girl who used to wake you up in the middle of the night due to the sound of her revving up her obnoxiously loud and ancient (she claims vintage) motorcycle that she bought for cheap at a junkyard.

The upside of living here, it seems, is that since everyone is unavoidable, you are running into him here.

You take a seat to his left, conveniently leaving one barstool between the two of you. Yuki is joking around with you, saying something that makes you laugh, and the urge to do something very stupid builds up in Hiromi. He’s been totally chill with the whole “letting the intrusive thoughts win” routine, but he wants to handle his relationship with you with a delicate hand.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks you, hoping that his words don’t come out slurred.

“I’d normally say yes, but Yuki gives me my drinks on the house.”

Yuki yanks back the drink she made you. “If Ace Attorney over here wants to pay for your drink, you’re getting charged, hon. Sorry. Girl’s gotta make a living.”

Conversation with Hiromi comes naturally to you. Everything you do with Hiromi comes naturally. The alcohol helps warm you right back up to him, dormant feelings now coming back to life. You think you’re too old to have butterflies in your tummy when you make tequila-induced attempts at flirting with him (at least, you think you’re flirting; it’s been a while since you actually tried). You think that you definitely don’t give a shit whenever he plays along, because that’s just what he does, what he always has been doing.

When he left, everyone in town was under the impression that Hiromi had been stringing you along. The fact of the matter is, you have Hiromi wrapped around your finger to the point where he doesn’t think he could ever get unstuck.

Everything you do with Hiromi comes naturally, and it’s only natural to have him walk you back to your apartment. It’s only natural that you invite him inside to “catch up” some more, and it’s only natural that “catching up” involves you grinding on his lap, sinking his body deeper into the pink loveseat in your living room.

Your dress is tugged up to your waist because easy access means you don’t have to get naked to get dicked down. Hiromi’s suit pants are admittedly not made for quick fucks, but if there’s a will, there’s a way. His pants are unzipped, briefs adjusted enough so that his dick can unceremoniously be freed from its confines and make its way to where it truly belongs, which is buried deep inside the warmth of your cunt.

Hiromi finds pleasure in the discomfort of it all. If he was doing this with anyone else, he’d be hyper aware of the stiffness of his dry cleaned suit, and how the loveseat seems to protest with the combined weight of you two rocking back and forth on top of it. He’d be too irritated with the way sex would wrinkle his clothes, and he probably wouldn’t even be this hard because he drinks so he has a valid excuse for never taking a woman home with him.

Because it’s you, everything is felt to the extreme, but you have this way, this charm, this spell, that makes everything that happens to Hiromi better. The best. You are the best he’s ever had, and he thinks he grunts this into your ear as you rest your body against his, upper body limp and boneless, your lower half moving up and down, trying to get a good angle so his cock can hit right there.

He kisses your shoulder, and he experimentally thrusts up, and you let out a string of moans that are interspersed with little breathy fuck’s, and he thinks this might be one of his most favorite sounds in the whole entire world. So he keeps thrusting, keeps relishing in the way your walls seem to clamp down on him, keeps enjoying the way you hang onto him and whimper out his name.

He is drunk, and he is in love, and he knows that he didn’t come here with the intention of fucking you boneless, but you don’t seem to mind, didn’t seem to mind when you kissed him first and started grinding on him, the catalyst to the situation he’s in now.

He planned on telling you the truth, the story about why he left, about how he feels stupid on how he handled the whole situation. The bourbon he downed earlier this night seems to be affecting his brain, though, because all he knows is that there is only one confession he is capable of giving to you right now.

“I love you.” He groans, his hands finding your waist, gripping hard. “Fuck, I love you. Never stopped.”

His cock feels too good when it's buried deep inside of you. You know it’s silly and stupid, but you want to tell Hiromi that you want him to fuck himself so deep that he can touch your heart with his dick. No other man would want to hear some creep shit like that, but Hiromi is Hiromi. He would get it. You drunkenly tell him your wish, and he lets out a little breathy laugh, rolls his hips, and rocks your world.

“I’ll give it my best shot.” He says, and because the alcohol tells him that his sobriety makes him a bitch, he reminds you once more. “I love you.”

You cum. The sex is drunken and messy, and while drunk sex usually happens in a blurry haze for you, you are seeing everything clearly. You can see the crease in between his brows as he concentrates on maintaining the perfect balance between relishing in your wetness and not overstimulating you. You can see the way his eyes greedily, lovingly, admire the messy sight of your joined bodies. You can see his nose, tall and as noticeable as ever, and so Hiromi.

You want to tell him that you love his nose, but speaking is hard when he dicks you down like this. All you can do is press a kiss to the tip of it. This only makes him tighten his grip on your waist, his thrusts getting more erratic, and then you feel a nice warmth flooding inside of you. The two of you are rational adults, and rational adults know that cumming inside should be a no-no between two people who have yet to establish what the fuck you are to each other.

“I love your nose.” You tell him, when you finally manage to catch your breath. He’s still buried inside of you, and you’re afraid that when he does eventually have to pull you off of him, everything’s going to come spilling out of you. The thought of separating from Hiromi makes you frown. You just got him back.

“I love you.” He says back, for the nth time this night. Maybe he’s making up for lost time. Maybe he’s just drunk. You don’t care. Hiromi is back, and even if he leaves again, you’re happy that he’s at least here with you right now.

“You’re drunk.”

“If I tell you when I’m sober, will you believe me?”

He’ll sober up tomorrow. If he tells you when he’s sober, that means he’ll have to stay. He won’t go.

“Yes.” You say, trying not to reveal the fact that you already believe him. Hiromi is not as impassive as he thinks he is. “Pinky promise.”

You feel the familiar warmth of his finger twisting ‘round yours.

“Pinky promise.”

#hiromi higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #smut #one shot #drabble #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #hiromi higuruma smut

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buckyalpine · 11 months

Text

Needy Dark!Bucky

Feel like I should issue a warning for this - PLS scroll all the way past this if this isn’t your thing. Maybe this should have stayed in the drafts or be deleted. But I can’t help the absolute headlock, deception, corruption, dub con, mommy and innocence kink has on me rn.

This is fucked and dirty.

Heed the warnings.

Please.

Imagine dark!Bucky taking advantage of your sweetness. You’re so soft and kind with him, helping him adjust to the new world, hardly realizing he’s damn well adjusted already and doesn’t need anyone to baby him.

But he loves when you do.

Maybe it’s because of all the shit he’s been through, touch starved, deprived of care and softness, that’s how he justifies the need to be utterly babied and taken care of by you. Fuck you’re so soft when you do it, cooing and walking him through everything, as if he doesn’t know a thing, he’s poor little fried brain.

It started with him pouting at dinner, happy to have you feed him instead. Sometimes you help him wash his hair so the shampoo doesn’t sting his eyes, sitting on the edge of the tub with a bowl of water, not minding one bit your clothes would get wet in the process. You even hold him in his sleep like a little boy because his nightmares are so scary.

He’d taken to calling you mommy when no one else was around.

But then he wanted more.

So much more.

“Mommy, it’s hard” he frowns with puppy eyes, standing at the doorway in just his boxer briefs', hair still dripping from the shower. His cock is straining against the fabric from the way you had massaged his scalp and gently rinsed with conditioner; the entire time you helped him, he wanted to pull your hand off his head and have you shove them down his shorts.

“Aww, Jamie” You don’t want him to feel embarrassed over something natural, getting up and taking his hand, sitting him down on the bed, “it’s normal baby, are you feeling little right now?”

Daddy is feeling a lot of things, mommy

You’d noticed he’d slip into a different headspace when it was just you and him though you didn’t mind. He deserved a safe place to heal and relearn everything in a way that helped him.

How he loved it.

“A little” he shrugs, “Why is it hard?” He asks innocently, palming himself, whimpering at the feeling, spreading his legs more. He lets out a surprised moan when his hand brushes over his clothed cockhead, feigning innocence, touching himself there more at the foreign sensation.

“Help me mommy” he takes your hand, placing it on his raging cock, “Please? Hurts, how do I make it normal”

“Um-” You bit your lip, unsure of how to answer his questions while he continued to confusedly touch himself, rubbing his erection. “You-

“It’s getting harder, why is my thinggy so hard”

Go on mama, tell me why my cock is so fucking hard

“It happens sometimes baby, it’s normal though” You cup his cheek trying to comfort and reassure him. That isn’t enough for him though.

“What-what do I call it?” He pouts, smirking on the inside, proud of his fat fucking cock that hes imagined in your hand, your mouth, your tight little pussy-

“How about we just call it your special spot for now, hm?” You rub the side of his thigh to see if helps ease him but his cock twitches instead, thigh muscles tensed under your finger tips.

Wonder what you’d actually call it, come play with my special spot, mommy

“Mommy, its getting wet” He looked like he’s going to cry and you can’t help but want to help him in some way, hushing him gently.

“Okay, let me see baby” You sit across from him between his wide spread legs. He slips his thumbs into the waistband of his brief's, just enough to free his cock, his thick curved length slapping against his tummy. He pouts again, looking down at the leaky pink tip, his balls full and heavy, every part of him wishing he could just stuff himself into your cunt but he has to do this carefully.

He’d get that eventually.

After all, you’d never deny your baby boy.

“Mommy is going to help you, okay?” You carefully wrap your hand around his shaft, stroking his cock up and down, focused on taking care of him, not once noticing the dark gaze he has on you while you work at his length. “You okay, Jamie?”

“It’s all tingly, it feels good mommy” His cheeks are flushed, hips every so slightly rocking up into your hand, meeting your strokes. He only lets out soft little whimpers and babbles but his mind is screaming everything else.

That’s it mama, stroke my fucking cock.

Jerk my dick, get all my cum out, balls are so heavy right now

Would paint that pretty face if I could, you’d look gorgeous covered in my cum

What daddy wouldn’t give to have you slobber and suck his “special spot”

Bet your cunt is tight as fuck, wish you were a slut sometimes mommy, I’ll make you a whore soon

“I- I feel something” he pants out, pearls of precum beading at the tip, dribbling down over your fingers. You avoid stroking him too fast or hard, not wanting to overstimulate him, avoiding the tip of his cock. “It’s getting so wet, I’m making a mess” He looks down at the head of his cock with glassy eyes, another dribble of silky liquid coating your fingers.

“You’re gonna be sensitive there baby, it’s okay, that’s just how your special spot is support to be, okay?”

“Touch- can you touch the pink part?” He whispers shyly, letting out a high pitched white when you twist your wrist around his glistening cockhead, “Don’t stop, keep touching me there” He pleads and you shift closer to him, cooing while he squirms. He takes advantage of how close you are to him, pulling you to his side and hiding his face against your neck.

“Mommy, it feels good, I feel something-I-it feels heavy down there-” He lets his hand go down to his balls, tugging at them, sighing happily when you pull his hand away and gently cup them instead, softy massaging them with just the right pressure.

“You can let it all out, let go Jamie, it’s okay, let it all out” You start to stroke him faster, more focused on the tip just like he asked, kissing his temple while he continues to shy away from you.

“Let it out?” He pulls away and gives you a confused expression, seemingly not understanding, his body still thrusting into your hand while you grip him a little harder.

“There’s gonna be lots of stuff that comes out, okay? It’ll help you feel better, I’ll clean you right up after baby, just let it all out”

Damn right m’gonna cum hard for you, babydoll, not gonna hold back a single drop

He moans against your neck, body covered in sweat, rutting into your hand while you twist around the tip, his cock growing harder.

“AH-MOMMY!” He practically wails, cum shooting out in hot white streams, his whole body shuddering and trembling, and endless stream of his cream getting the dark curls at the base of his cock all wet and messy. “OH MOMMMY-it’s -it’s so much” You whisper sweet nothings to him, telling him he was so good, carefully removing your hand, letting his throbbing length slap against his belly.

He knows he already got what he wanted but he can’t help himself, wanting just a bit more, putting his sweet pout back on, looking at you with teary eyes.

“Kiss it better?” He’s tugging you close again, bucking his hips up a little to where he wants attention, “Please” He pleads, his softening cock still dripping with cum.

C’mon mommy, lick me up, just suck it a little

You know how needy he can get, and your heart hurts thinking about how different his body must be feeling, overwhelmed and overstimulated. You hush him again with a kiss to his forehead before moving down to give him affection where he needed it. His eyes grow wide, biting back a smirk, gripping the sheets to make sure he didn’t shove your head down.

“Oh kiss it better mommy” He moans, back arching off the bed when your soft lips brush on top of his tip, pecking the sweetest comforting kiss on his frenulum, making his body jolt.

Just put it in your mouth

“Can-can you do it again?” He asks innocently, chewing his bottom lip raw.

“Just one more, then I have to clean you up” You place a firm kiss onto his now spent cock, before getting up and wiping him down, letting him spend the night cuddled to your chest. At some point, he asks to nurse and you can’t tell him no. He doesn’t waste a second taking your top off and latching onto your nipple, hitching his leg over you while his lips suckle.

Sometimes you have a feeling in the back of your mind, wondering if he truly has no clue what’s happening. Then he looks at you with such innocence, there’s no way, not with those baby blue eyes and sweet pouty pink lips.

How could you ever doubt him.

On the other hand, imagine one day he catches you in an intimate moment with your hands between your legs, not realizing he was still home. He goes feral on the inside but on the outside, he’s just a lost puppy who wants to know what your doing. You struggle to explain to him what was happening, not catching the flash of hunger that he’s struggling to hide while you’re now wrapped up in your sheet to cover yourself.

All he knows is mommy was feeling like he was that day and had to take care of her private special spot too. With that cute button he’d love to suck.

Should’ve asked me mommy, if only you knew how good my fingers are

“It looks like my thinggy” He points out to your toy, which you snatch away and feel your body heating up further. “Mommy, can I put my special spot inside yours?” He doesn’t give you a lot of room to protest, pleading with you, showing you how hard he is again.

He starts off with begging, rutting himself against you, humping you like an animal while you try to soothe him but it doesn’t work. He’s thrown his clothes off lying top of you with his bare cock against your folds, desperately rubbing himself, wanting to push it in.

“Just the pink part, please, I need it, wanna empty everything, it’s leaking mommy”

You don’t know how or when but at some point he presses his tip into you and shoves his entire length all at once, moaning loudly and thrusting without a care in the world. You’re body and might screams that something isn’t right, unable to stop the moans that slip out of you when he hits your cunt just right, pleasure trying to drown you from reality.

Imagine the utter filth that spills from his mouth after while your blood runs cold, realizing something doesn’t add up.

“Mommy, your special spot feels so good, so good, so. fucking. good”

“I wanna fuck you all night mommy, your pussy is perfect”

“I touched myself thinking about you and how you stroked my dick baby, wished you would’ve just sucked my cum out instead.

“Oh fuck, you’re tight, choking my cock baby, make me wanna bust in you so bad”

“J-James?” You whisper, eyes growing wide, how the fuck did he know those words, what was happening. Bucky loses himself in how good you feel, no longer giving a fuck. “What-what are you saying-”

“It’s Jamie” He lets out a dark chuckle, mocking your sweet tone, dropping the act, now that he’s deep in your cunt. “Your Jamie’s cock”

“Cock?”

“Yeah, cock mama, my cock in your little special spot”

Bruh I’m so sorry tf is wrong with me 💀

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