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inknopewetrust · 2 years

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off to the races // benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: the royal ascot races take a turn when Benedict pulls you under the grandstand and let’s his artistic hands wander.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Bridgerton)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut. minors DNI.

Quick Links: Masterlist

It was hot––unseasonably so.

The grass that surrounded the royal ascot fields was sweltering. The bits of water that had yet to dry up in the heat trickled down each blade slowly; creeping down its green stem toward the brown earth to be swallowed and drank. And welcome it was. The earth drank it greedily—an attribute the sprinted summers London had been experiencing as of late.

You fanned yourself rapidly at the fact.

Conversations that excited the ton filled the air. Debutantes and seasoned women whispering about the newly minted diamond, the drama of their neighbors but certainly not their own households. Mamas held their daughter’s arms tightly, smiling boldly at each suitor as if screaming “the wealth is in our pocket, no one else’s.” However, at some point, wealth was only so important. It’s the attraction–as the water to the grass–that influences the longevity of a match; the lust and love that grows when two people combine their beings like magnets unable to separate.

Any woman would fan themselves at the prospect. If only every season guaranteed a match so worthy of passion–scandal would surely ensue even if the mind pursued impure thoughts.

Lifting a hand to your eyes, you shielded them from the sun as it beat down on you. The fan doing little to relieve the heat, the looks on other guests' faces was a testament to that. Women with rosy cheeks, men adjusting their kerchief’s wound tightly against their necks; the smallest beads of sweat building their brows with a sheen only seen during these trivial seasons of matchmaking. From the Featherington’s to Sharma’s–the latter of which was taking the London weather swimmingly–each family unit gathered on the fields of the royal ascot races to find their purpose but you, you already knew yours.

Time, however, was not always on your side.

Fourth season, fourth. Your reputation was beginning to take a hit and the time spent ignoring men’s advances was beginning to cause more harm than good. No one wanted a tease anymore; they wanted a wife to secure them a lifetime of riches and when each offer was turned away, fewer callers arrived at your door and the sofas had settled with dust.

And finally, Anthony Bridgerton, after years of declining to find a wife, decided that he would join the social season to do such.

While the eyes lingered on Anthony–the famed Viscount who defined the term “rake,” the other Bridgerton brothers were left to celebrate their final years of freedom before marriage and commitment came to them. But unlike Anthony, you knew one brother had already declared his intentions. The right moment, nonetheless, had to wait after the Viscount found his Viscountess.

The Bridgerton family arrived at the crux between the high noon sun and the serving of the furtive snack–refreshing cucumber sandwiches, fruits, and most certainly champagne to flow. Debutantes fawned; sticking their gaze onto Anthony Bridgerton as if he were meat for the picking while he searched for the diamond Lady Whistledown had informed the ton he was willing to wed. In his stead, Violet Bridgerton held the arm of Colin, while Eloise and Benedict followed in tow.

The dew from the grass reminded you of Benedict–the sweet drink, forbidden fruit so delectable that even the most parched would not have enough after one sip. His top hat high, the light blue waistcoat, and mustard kerchief that made each inch of him mysterious yet welcoming; delighting the slightest waver in your heart as it ached for a touch. You thought, for a moment, to leave the group of women you had been in conversation with for a brief time before fate appeared before you.

Eloise Bridgerton, clad in her signature blue bloused gown and beige fascinator, met your eye and the spark in her step set the events of the early afternoon in motion. She gathered her skirts, motioning for you to take her arm for a stroll as she swept you away.

“I believe I have cracked Whistledown’s place of publishing.” She spoke low, but excitedly in a giddy manner. You had given audience to her scheming during Daphne’s season–Eloise not ready to enter society yet and found herself in a bind with the Queen. Knowing she could trust few, she took a liking to her brother’s oldest friend as a secret keeper. Although you were less than enthusiastic about discussing the possibility of the one who may be Whistledown’s physical form, the additional visits to and from the Bridgerton’s were enough to continue.

“Ah, surely you could tell from the paper quality, right?” You joked, not truly realizing the accuracy of the statement. Eloise’s eyes went wide.

“Yes! That is exactly so! Have you noticed as well?”

“No... I was only joking... surely paper is the same everywhere.” You laughed, patting Eloise’s arm as it was looped within your own.

“But it is not, you see?” The young Bridgerton took a pamphlet from her purse and handed it to you, telling you to feel the paper quality between your gloved fingers. You rolled your eyes but complied.

“It is just paper, Eloise. Is there not more pressing matters at the moment?” You stopped walking, turning to face her with your back toward the racetrack. “Tis the third week of the season and Whistledown has barely dipped their toe in the waters once more. Should we not enjoy the spectacle before things become... complicated?”

Eloise held her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked at you. Her eyes were judgmental, calculating in a way only Eloise’s could be. But she knew you were not Whistledown. Part of her early assessments were ruling out members of the ton who were close to her family in various ways–knowing that Anthony and Benedict’s activities would be far more detailed if you had written about them. You had been their friend for far too long to lose it over silly gossip.

“Do you not wish to take part in this anymore? Finding Lady Whistledown?”

“No, El... Sorry–” You chuckled nervously, patting your forehead with your white-gloved fingers. “I just find my mind wandering elsewhere.”

“Heavens, has a caller finally piqued your interests? You’re surely blushing.”

“Tis the heat, Eloise.”

“I have seen this look before! Daphne, Miss Edwina! Whistledown has not written a word either! How did you evade her, tell me so!”

“Eloise, please.” You scoffed, fanning yourself a bit more aggressively and keeping clear of her beady eyes. They pierced, just as all of her sibling’s eyes did. “Not all of us are completely consumed by the thoughts of a jealous woman.”

“No, perhaps not. But you are consumed with something far worse I fear.”

She continued to gaze at you, trying to figure out how the events of the previous season may have changed things. You avoided her stare by watching the people around you–filing toward the grandstand and jovially enjoying the summer festivities without a worry about Whistledown, reputation, or want. Beyond the hordes of Lords and Ladies making their way to their seats, the Bridgerton brothers stood in a circle talking to Will and Alice Mondrich. Benedict was smiling brightly at the boxer, Anthony’s attention was diverted, and Colin stood listening intently before joining his elder brother in laughter of Will’s joke.

And then he looked.

Benedict Bridgerton broke from the conversation and let his own eyes assess the crowd before landing on his sister and you–the ardent piece of his puzzle called life that had been lacking. For four seasons, his gaze met yours with a promise. A silent notion that once Anthony marries his Viscountess, the season will be his and yours for the taking–running with hands intertwined finally able to publicly proclaim the passion that had ensued for years. Afterall, there was a reason you had denied every caller that came flocking to your home.

There was something about the look on your face that drew him away from Alice, Will, Anthony, and Colin. The way you dabbed your forehead with the tips of your gloves; a strained, uncertain smile in the presence of Eloise. The qualities of a conversation gone sour, and his stomach turned at the possiblities. He had not read the latest Whistledown and he knew of Eloise’s endeavor, but the writer knew the darkest secrets of every soul in the ton and there was an urgency to find out why you had pulled that face.

You were hot; waiting and anxious as the feelings of lust in the summer heat began to overtake your proper mind with thoughts of hands roaming and breathless whispers. Perhaps Benedict could sense it to–the need to be together when society said it was improper. You needn’t care what the ton spoke in their callous phrases. No other man would worship your body beside the painter who sculpted the belief that you were a sensual, exquisite beauty.

Your mouth turned into a frown when he began making an urgent haste toward the two of you. Inside, your stomach was doing the same summersaults as Benedict’s–for a much different reason, however. The sweltering heat and the thought of being beside Benedict in a moment where your mind had already lingered to that unsavory place was itching. Every step and every stride brought him closer, begging to be swept away to an intimate cove.

The intrusion broke Eloise’s hardened gaze.

“Brother! To what do we owe this unwelcome addition?” Eloise gave Benedict a closed-lip smile and jested as she always had. Benedict nodded at Eloise before ignoring her completely. It made your heart beat a little faster. And somehow, in Eloise’s mind, she did not make the connection.

“I could see you pestering Y/n, Eloise.” He scolded but never looked at her. His crooked smile fluttered the butterflies who you thought died during the heat. “And I could see that while you lead her mind to boredom, Penelope Featherington sits waiting in the wings for your attention.”

Eloise took a second to glance beyond your shoulder, seeing Penelope wait patiently beside the white grandstand curtains for her. Sighing, Eloise slapped her brother’s arm with a scrunched nose.

“I shall see that this conversation is not over, Miss L/n! The search only continues!” She set off for Penelope without another glance and left you and Benedict alone.

Hesitated he did not, Benedict offered his arm and a twinkle in his eye.

“Care to promenade, Miss L/n?” You gladly took his arm.

“I’d thought you’d never ask, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Between the white tents the attention of others was limited. Needn’t the care of the Bridgerton spare and a woman who was nearing spinster-territory with each denial. Every stride you continued to fan yourself, breathing in deeply as the cool wind met your sticky skin and the grip on Benedict’s arm grew tighter. The man said nothing, waiting for you to breech the silence with a sparkling eye and wicked smile–he knew, he did. The two of you had been playing this game for years and it was reaching the threshold of inescapable need that could only be met with stolen glances, grazed fingers, and a rendezvous scandalous enough to bring shame to both your names.

“The weather is quite scorching is it not?” You broke the silence with a simple question that begged a deeper meaning.

“Very. Though, the weather is not the most torrid topic of the afternoon.”

“Do tell, Mr. Bridgerton, I am intrigued.” Yes, to keep your mind away from finding that secret cavern of ambiguity–a spot to fulfill the desire. Benedict steered you clear of the crowd ahead, turning off the gravel path and beside the edges of the tents, not the fronts.

“That dress, Miss L/n. Indulge me here.” He continued to lead, responding with a crooked smile when your grip on his arm tightened and Benedict made his way toward the back of the grandstand.

“Do you enjoy tormenting me?”

“Surely, I do not know what you mean?”

“The red. You know the color suits you well and while we can discuss the color, it’s the stain on the hip that brings back more fond memories.”

“What do–” You let go of his arm, looking down at your dress and turning slightly. Blue, the color of the sky in early April, painted on the side with a thumb printed perfectly pointing downward. “Oh, heavens.”

“Do you remember how you got that?” Benedict stepped an inch closer, closing in as your head remained downward and observing the painted thumb print. Of course you remember–how could you not? It was the second time he had shown you his paintings in nothing but unbridled confidence in his work. It is what he should have been all along, confident in his work. Whether that be his devotion to his family or the pieces he paints, the passion he put into everything was spurring. It spurred the deepest respect from you and that was paid through the use of his beautiful artist hands.

“How could I forget?”

“Care to relive the memory?” He whispered lowly. His right hand fondling the very lightest of your dress’s fabric at the side–teasing. Every second he gathered more. Soon, scrunching enough to ball it into his hand, the heels and stockings on your feet beginning to see the light.

“I am not sure there are sturdy walls here, but I am certain there are wooden poles underneath these stands.” You titled your head upwards, gazing into his eyes with the twinkle he was waiting for. Benedict scoffed, looking over your shoulder, his shoulder, and then proceeded to lift the fabric that covered the stands and whisked you inside.

Without truly knowing where he was taking this, you found yourself flush against a wooden support with your back nearly digging into the painted wood with a thud. Benedict launched himself on you when the space was deemed clear of any possible intrusion and his lips were aching for more. The longing you felt on his fingers as they cupped your face, his lips nearly missing their target in a frenzied movement. The moment he centered himself is when he felt your hands on his chest, calming him as the passion he felt for you was exposed from its protected mask–here, under the grandstand of the Royal Ascot Races, Benedict Bridgerton could let go and be free and love you as you were meant to be loved.

Soft lips, breathing unsteady and rapid, he was panting far before you were. Benedict longed to be in your embrace and imagined he was the dew on the stalk of grass, ready to be drunk on you but at the same time, all he could imagine was how he could worship you. The boldness of your red dress, the memories of an evening well past yet, still, he recalled the declarations and touches, the plush skin begging to be relieved of its aches and lips so desperately to be claimed.

Benedict broke the kiss–backing away just enough to see your face though his body was against yours.

He swallowed. It was as though what he was trying to say was too much to declare; the words pausing in his throat, in his mind, before he could physically make the sound. Words held weight. They held a deeper meaning and far more promise than a stroke of one's hands or the touch of one's lips. Benedict’s eyes flickered from your own to your lips, begging to be met yet still lingering in purgatory.

“You— “He huffed a breath that sent shivers down your spine. The hot air meeting your mouth; slightly agape, waiting patiently for his. “—consume my every thought. My soul— “One of his hands gripped your waist tightly, leaning you into the wooden support underneath the stands. The other began bunching your dress upwards and into his palm. “—belongs to you. Only you and your irritatingly perfect being.”

“If I am perfection, Mr. Bridgerton, then I wished to be ruined.”

Benedict pressed his lips to yours feverishly. Every fiber molded for you as you welcomed him in and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, greeting the crown of his head with a trail of your fingernails sending a surge through him. His tongue memorized itself with your own, not fighting, but languidly he caressed your own as his hand hitched higher and higher until the skirt of your dress is bunched, and his hand could feel the clasps of the garters which connected your stockings to your shift.

“A bit of a hot day for these, eh darling?” He broke away, having looked down to unclasp one before reclaiming his lips to yours.

As his mouth re-familiarized itself with yours, your mind raced to where his hands were: gripping, grazing, and getting nowhere out of sheer respect. Moving one hand off of his head and out of the hair he knew you loved to weave those delicate fingers in, you grasped his hand that was left on your thigh and brought it up.

Inching agonizingly slow and steady to your breast as the dresses design help heighten the cleavage. You shifted his palm to one breast—sucking on Benedict’s lower lip before releasing it with an indigent pop.

“The only thing to cool me down is your touch, Mr. Bridgerton…” He squeezed your breast tightly, moving a thumb over the fabric right above your nipple to feel it bud. You lulled your head back against the post as his eyes watched his hands movements. “…and I am so very hot at the moment.”

Your words made him squirm, building the sensation he always felt in your presence even if he tried to quell it. Shifting to where there was no more space between you, the fabrics of your clothes combining into one, Benedict pressed himself into you. Continuing to grope and inhale deeply, the artistic Bridgerton placed his head on your shoulder, his nose in your collarbone.

“I won’t ruin you.” Your heart plummeted, having waited for this very moment to be free of the lustrous torment the man has driven you to with nothing more than a glance and a stroll. “But I can make you sing, if that is what the Miss wants?”

He placed a kiss on your collarbone, lifting his head enough to nudge his nose against your chin as you recover from his words. He could make you sing. Sing high for his inspiration to be recovered; Benedict Bridgerton had his muse—one he could not paint, but play.

“Let me cool you. Let me show you that art comes in many forms. My masterpiece—you come in many forms.”

“As does your art, Mr. Bridgerton.” You whispered, watching as the sun that streamed in from the slotted stands above you trickled lines of bright, golden sun onto your rendezvous.

“Now…” Lifting a single, manicured finger to his chin, you lifted his head with no restraint. A pair of eyes glistening; the pupils blown in lust as he let you command.

“Show me what an artist’s hands can do.”

Benedict slotted his right leg between the two of yours and gave your dress room to sit above his knee. It was a matter of convenience to let his hand go, leaving it to travel to his lips, waiting inches from yours. He locked eyes with you, the hoods ever-so-lust heavy and put his index and middle fingers to his lips and licked, letting it tug on his bottom lip for a brief second before leading them south.

“Benedict–” You began, the butterflies making their way back to your stomach as the crowds began to move their feet above you; the wood creaking as his hand inched lower and lower until you could feel his fingertips break the space between your slip and your skin. In the heat his hands were warm, with the grateful mouth of his they had turned cold.

“If you do not want them to hear darling–” He continued, his fingers inching closer until they breeched the space they were looking for. He barely grazed the aching bud when your breath hitched, and he smirked. “–they I suggest you stay quiet.”

Then he pressed on your clit, slowly refamiliarizing himself and watching your breathing go unsteady as your shoulders rolled back against the column. Your hot breath on his face, he moved his hand off your breast and splayed it on your lower back, drawing the lower half closer to him, rubbing his two fingers in delicate circles as the strain of keeping a sound in was tense in your throat.

“This here–” He sighed, overwhelmed himself and each feel of your flesh begging him to lose decorum and take you here, “–is the thing I long for most but you, you make my heart feel alive.” You wanted to tell him to be quiet just as he had you, but Benedict just watched your face, moving his fingers faster and faster until you squirmed in his arms to do something about it.

“You, my masterpiece, writhing in my arms.”

“Benedict.” You huffed, not moaned. He had told you to be quiet and you complied, but he, he was begging to be directed. If he was the artist, then you were the composer. “Why have me writhe when I can shudder? Stop teasing me with your bloody fingers and give me what we both want.”

Benedict captured his lower lip in between his teeth, finger never slowing and rested his forehead against yours. “Your wish is my command, darling. One day you’ll beg your husband for more and I will happily oblige that day, but for now, I’ll give what I can.”

His fingers slipped from your clit and into your cunt with not a moment’s hesitation and you gripped the back of his head to bring his lips to yours to silence the sound that was aching to come out. He worked his fingers in and out gingerly, not slowly but just the right pace to savor the moment and let his mouth explore yours as his tongue slips through your lips that had been fighting. Your fingernails scraped at the hair on the back of his head, pulling the brown locks as he filled you with his fingers to his knuckles.

He hadn’t been inside for three minutes before a bell sounded from above and nearly made both your souls jump out of your skins.

“Fuck...” Benedict laughed, crinkling his eyes at the side and pausing his fingers for just a moment. “I nearly thought someone had found us.” You could not help but smile, your chest heaving for a moment of air, but your mind was clouded–waiting for him to continue and certainly not ready to be complete without reaching the goal.

“The horses are nearly off, Benedict.” You whispered, grabbing his elbow of the hand currently deep inside of you. You tugged, grunting at the sensation it sent shooting through you, edging him to continue as your eyes pleaded. “I do not like to believe you’d have them finish before me?”

He shook his head like a little boy caught eating sweets past bedtime. “Can’t have that now, can we?” and the bell sounded again. This time, Benedict sped with the sound of hooves meeting the sweltering grass. His hand moved rapidly, curing the tips to reach the pillowy flesh swollen and wet. Instead of kissing you again, he leaned his head toward your ear.

“You bewitch me...” His breath was staggered, his own arousal pressing hard against your opposite leg as he nearly straddled you against the post. “You consume my every thought, my every waking moment.” You could hear the hooves draw closer, the rallying cries from above. Your leg began to give away, shaking from the sheer pressure of standing and being stimulated. “I dream of you, the family we will have.” He imagined the future. How these fingers would be replaced with all of him and in the comfort of the home you shared, he could do everything he imagined.

“I have seen you so full of me you can barely move.” He huffed, wrapping the arm from your lower back around you, pulling you close as you clutched his arm and chest. It had taken all of your power to stay quiet. Your teeth indented white onto your lower lip. “You have entranced me, body and soul, and you say my name–” He grunted, trying to relieve the pressure he had not been able to expel and rolled his hip against yours.

“–You–”

“Benedict, I–”

The hooves had lessened momentarily before the rumbles began to reverberate from the grass to the dirt. You could feel it in your toes, and you were so close. His fingers moving quickly, his confessions burning desire into your heart and pulsing points of passion that could only be cooled by one man, the man whose name you spoke.

“Benedict.” You whimpered, breaking the bite on your lip and finally giving way when the crowd above began to silence the rumbles of the horses. “God, Benedict, I am so close.”

And he knew what to do. Taking his thumb, he continued his pace but pressed harsh circles onto your clit as the horses grew louder and louder. He kissed your ear lobe, pulling the skin with his teeth and letting it go with a lewd pop. “I am yours, and you mine. Love, let me see my work.” He turned his head to yours, watching the way your mouth went slack as the cheers grew stronger. He thought he would lose, that the horses would run too fast, and it would take longer under the circumstances, but he knew his fingers did the trick the moment the screams of the crowd corresponded with the bell and you had grabbed the back of his neck, not meeting his lips but seizing your back and curling your toes against the grass in your delicate shoes with a moan that had sent him to meet his maker.

His masterpiece, you, letting go of all expectations and giving into exhibition under the grandstand of the Royal Ascot Races. Benedict's hand stilled, letting your release slowly work down his fingers and settle with your breathing as the time began to steady. You lulled your head back, closing your eyes to relish in the brief moment of relief before the chaos began again–being held by the man you love while he cared about you, not asking for anything in return and not forcing you to do something you do not.

You felt him dip his head, placing a light kiss on your shoulder. The short sleeves had fallen and neither of you had bothered to notice. Benedict slowly removed his hand instead of wiping it on a handkerchief or on the shift underneath your dress, he brought his two fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched his fingers bathed in your release come clean from his swollen lips unable to formulate a proper sentence at the sight.

“Still sweet in this dreadful summer heat.”

But he could, and that broke the lustful tension that correlated with the descending feet from above.

“Such a poet, Mr. Bridgerton... I do wonder what inspired it.” You smiled, twisting a strand of hair at the nape of his neck with a single finger.

“You, darling.” He smiled, not thinking of the hordes of people beyond the stand preventing a clean escape or the suspicious looks Eloise, Anthony, and Violet would give when they saw his flushed cheeks and your hasty exit.

“You are my greatest muse, my love.”

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realizashuns · 3 years

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I receive these comments while I’m in a fucking Korean market that was strike 3 in 1 lolllll so within entertainment, shapes and colors don’t equate to ideas and emotions? Hello what has art been this whole idk lifetime???? you cannot tell me there’s not a deliberate design adapted from the imperial flag used within anime I don’t need to hear this from a closet furry bro u just learned that spirit animal is culturally insensitive sorry but I’m sticking with my knowledge on this as an Asian first and foremost thank you you have been self outed and blocked I already googled the earrings before I made my original post and idk how you can’t not see the imperial flag like the adapted version makes much more sense you can clearly see it’s a “flower” rather than thicker lines and a deliberate rising movement like bich I got student debt from going to art school I’ll write a thesis on this don’t try me!

#I swear. people who don’t know simple culture and history don’t think!#and it’s like specially Americans who don’t realize hey almost all of the time #neighboring countries have been at war and hated each other #so when you think or guess ethnicities or races for funsies it’s really hurtful high key #yes I’m speaking about every time someone tried to guess my ethnicity and ended up saying ‘same thing’#and you can’t get into the fact that your people were chased out by a military regime #and your culture is straight up banned from being taught or spoken about within the occupying country

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jadedvibes · 2 years

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Foolish Heart

Summary: You thought Bucky would never want to settle down, but it turns out you were very wrong.

Pairing: Beefy neighbor!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, vague mentions of sex, fwb situation, v-day themes, lots of kissing, angst with a happy ending, sweet fluff, pet names, swearing, Bucky is a sap, reader is tired of heartbreak and is scared of getting hurt, little Star Wars reference.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This little fic is my submission for @pellucid-constellations Love Letters Writing Challenge 💌 Inspired by the prompt at the very end ❤️

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

“Another minute, please baby.” He greedily leaned in to meet your lips again.

“I’m not your baby, Buck. This is just fun for now,” you mumbled as you kissed the handsome brawny man, your tongue sliding along his.

Bucky’s brain short circuited — you felt like heaven, but your words, they made no sense. You were his and he couldn’t comprehend why you’d say that. “So…” he slowly pulled back, “you’re just using me?” He tilted your chin so that you had to look up into his gorgeous blue eyes. “When you wake up in my arms, you’re just my pal?” he asked with a small pout on his lips.

Heat rose to your cheeks, “a very good pal,” you murmured, peppering kisses along his strong jawline, hoping to distract him for a moment. He caved immediately, grabbing your face and redirecting you to his soft lips. You held onto his broad shoulders as he traced his tongue along yours, making your heart race in your chest.

Bucky groaned when you tangled your fingers in his hair and gently pulled — every single time you touched him he felt it; that spark, that perfect jolt of electricity running through his veins. It was ever present when he had the privilege of being close to you.

One thing was for sure, Bucky knew that you were made to be his. You moaned as his large warm hands cupped your ass, squeezing firmly.

“You can use all of me,” he muttered as he pulled away and looked into your brilliant eyes. “But just so you know,” his fingers brushed against your cheek, “I want so much more with you.”

You narrowed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck, “Bucky, c’mon. It’s not a good idea,” you whispered against his lips.

“Says you,” he said before his lips brushed over yours, trailing down your jawline, to your neck, slowly; as if your denial meant nothing.

As if you were his, body and soul.

And maybe you were, you thought as he parted from you with a soft kiss on your forehead. But that didn’t mean he had to know.

While you repressed your feelings, Bucky relished the way you looked at him hazily with kiss swollen lips; you were the most adorable girl in his eyes.

“I’ve gotta go meet up with Sam,” he breathed out, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “But I’ll text you later, okay?” he said before swooping in for one more sweet kiss.

You nodded, “Okay — I mean you don’t have to text me,” you shrugged as nonchalantly as you could. “I’ll see ya, Buck.”

Bucky shook his head with a grin, he couldn’t understand why you chose to pretend there wasn’t anything more between you two. “Bye, angel.”

┈┈┈┈┈・・

You were nervous when you moved into the townhouse next to Bucky’s. Worried that you would have a rowdy neighbor or someone annoying next door. However, you were incredibly pleased to find out that your new neighbor was none of those things.

A few days after you had moved in, Bucky came over to introduce himself with a little box of cupcakes in hand, offering to give you the low down on the neighborhood. That visit turned into a full on gossip session, where you learned all you needed to know about the people nearby, including the sweetest one next door.

The two of you formed a strong bond, and you’d often hang out with him and his friends in your free time. That was a year ago, and in that time you had gotten to know Bucky incredibly well. He was the best guy and you were happy to call him your friend.

That’s all you were for a while, just friends. You knew he dated a lot, hell you’d seen enough to know that for sure. And you dated a bit too, hoping to find the right person for you.

Unfortunately, it felt less and less likely the more you tried.

Every man you gave a chance took the opportunity to hurt you. Every time you bravely opened your heart, someone unworthy of you would weasel his way in only to shatter it from the inside.

You made the choice to put an end to the cycle; you didn’t need love. But just because you didn’t need it, doesn’t mean you didn’t want it. From time to time, you would see things that would make you long for a different reality.

Couples walking hand in hand, smiling at one another. Girls getting flowers from the boys that loved them. And having someone to do life’s simplest things with, like getting a cup of coffee sounded so wonderful.

It wasn’t the grand romantic gestures you longed for; no, it was the soft comfort that came with loving and being loved. To walk through life knowing someone loved you just as much as you loved them. Yet while you tried to let that longing fade, the hopeless romantic inside still wanted it.

Undoubtedly, love was quite the notion. But if it was so significant and worthwhile, then why did it feel impossible to find?

Nobody complemented you the way you wanted, and as hard as you tried, it felt like a pointless endeavor.

After one more boring night with yet another incompatible guy, you found yourself at Bucky’s doorstep.

He opened the door and in a rare act of bravery you flung your arms around his neck and kissed him; forgetting that he was your friend and seeing him for the man that he was. He reciprocated immediately, wrapping his big strong arms around your body.

His touch, his lips, and everything in that moment felt divine. You melted into him, and he held you against his muscular chest tightly, as if he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Just one night, please?” you whispered against his lips.

He nodded his head as he looked down at you with dark and dilated pupils. After shutting the door he was on you, picking you up as if you weighed nothing, and carrying you to his bedroom where the two of you shared one of the best nights of your collective lives.

┈┈┈┈┈・・

That was months ago, and now you and Bucky were in a weird situation because one night turned into countless nights ever since.

He claimed he wanted you, but you weren’t so sure. If his prior reputation meant anything, then you knew you were making the right call.

He never had relationships in the past, and you weren’t willing to open your heart up to someone that couldn’t be serious about you.

That’s how you fell into this arrangement. You’d fall into bed with Bucky then pretend it didn’t mean anything right after. It was easier to rationalize and continue on if you kept your feelings out of it. That’s what guys always did to you, and you figured it was a good method to shield your own heart.

Bucky would often try to convince you there was something more, that you were his, but to protect yourself from pain you refrained from believing him. Doubts played on a loop in the back of your mind — if he’s never been serious about someone in the past, then why would it be any different now?

After one too many run-ins with his one night stands, you knew better. And while you hadn’t seen him with anyone else in a while, you thought it’d be best to err on the side of caution. Hearts were often foolish, and you felt it was best to watch over your own.

Lately though, Bucky was trying extra hard to make you see that he was all in for you.

Bucky: Hey, I’m at the store. Can I get you anything?”

You tried to hide the little smile that graced your lips whenever he texted you. Keeping sex and emotions separate was a lot easier in theory, but not so much in practice. Nevertheless, you tried to hide your feelings when you communicated with him — you didn’t want him to have power over you.

Y/N: Noo thanks.

Bucky: I’ll take that as ice cream and some candy because I see your favorites in the shape of hearts.

You were about to respond but then your phone buzzed again.

Bucky: Oh that reminds me, do you have a valentine this year?

Y/N: You don’t have to bring me anything, and no Bucky, I do not.

Bucky: In that case, will you be my valentine? I’m free on the 14th if you are.

Why did he have to be so adorable? Everything would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so damn cute.

Y/N: It’s a little early for that don’t you think?

Bucky: Why are the store’s already full of red and pink heart stuff if not to serve as a reminder that I should have a valentine then?

You giggled at his message and shook your head. Bucky was too much — a bit too sweet, and silly, and good to you. It didn’t make any sense.

Y/N: I’ll think about it. I’ve gotta keep my options open :P

┈┈┈┈┈・・

A knock on your door pulled you away from the book you were reading. You opened the door to find a flustered Bucky holding a giant red heart-shaped box of chocolate and a paper bag with what appeared to be ice cream among other things.

“Bucky, I told you I didn’t need anything,” you shook your head with a grin as you stepped aside to let him in.

“Well I needed an excuse to see you before our next appointment,” he said with a slight blush on his cheeks. After Steve overheard one of your more colorful scheduling conversations, you decided to refer to all your future hookups as appointments. Although, if it was up to him there would be no need for scheduling or code words because you belonged with him every night.

He walked over to your kitchen counter so that he could set all of his Valentine’s Day stuff down and put the ice cream in the fridge.

After he finished putting it away, he turned and met your gaze. “Be my valentine, please.”

“Bucky…” you crossed your arms as you looked down at your sock-clad feet. You didn’t want to hurt him.

“Why not? Why can’t I call you mine?”

He’d never asked that question before.

Bucky was always content to let you brush him off but now it seemed like he genuinely wanted to know.

You looked into his eyes and took a deep breath before deciding to tell him the partial truth.

“You don’t do love, you don’t do relationships, and I can’t let you into my heart if there’s no space for me in yours.”

The honest truth was that he already occupied a big part of your heart, but that felt far scarier to admit, so you didn’t.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he took in your words. That was not the response he anticipated. “You think I’m incapable of love?”

“No, I’m sure you could love somebody. I just, I know that’s not something you’ve done with others before. I’ve seen the girls on their way out, your reputation has always been as kind of a ladies man, Bucky. You know that.”

Bucky felt his heart break. He had no idea you felt that way. This whole time he thought you were teasing him whenever you turned him down. You were so good to him, and the intimate moments you shared always felt laced with something deeper and unspoken. He swallowed the lump in his throat, before muttering, “You’re right.”

You nodded your head, grateful that at least now he understood. “Do you still want to hang out, maybe watch a movie?”

“Um, actually, I’m not feeling very well. I uh, think I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh okay, well do you want me to make you something to eat or can I get you anything?” you asked, concerned about his sudden change in condition.

Bucky wouldn’t meet your eyeline, “No thanks, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”

“Well thanks for the valentines stuff,” you said with a smile. “That was sweet of you.”

“You're welcome,” he said before turning to leave abruptly. That’s not normal.

“Buck, are you okay?” you grabbed his hand before he could walk away.

He gave you a halfhearted smile, “I’ll be fine. Bye Y/N,” and with that he turned and left.

That was weird. You knew that man, and he’d never acted so off. And as much as you pretended not to need it, you loved how he never left without kissing you goodbye. Maybe he was sick, although in the time that you’d known him he never got sick. You pondered on that as you sifted through the bag he left behind.

He bought all your favorite sweets and even got you a little brown bear that held a tiny heart. What a dork. You smiled as you took in his silly thoughtfulness, but then you caught a glimpse of the chocolate box and noticed that there was a red envelope attached to it.

Curious as to what Bucky could have written in it, you carefully pulled it off and opened it up.

The cover of the card had a little baby yoda holding a heart with the saying, “Baby, yoda one for me.”

Oh my goodness, Bucky.

You hesitantly opened the card to see his penmanship —

Hi angel,

I’m not great with words, but I wanted you to know that I’ve sure enjoyed all the time we’ve spent together these last couple of months. I know you think this is casual for me, like I know it might be for you. But as I walked through the store today I saw all these couples together doing the most mundane things, and I found myself wishing then that you were there with me too. I want to push the cart while we pick out fruit. I want to hold your hand whenever we go out. I want everything normal and simple with you, by my side.

I know I’m early with all the cheesy valentines stuff, and I promise to give you a more romantic Valentine’s Day if you’ll let me. But please know, I don’t want you to keep your options open.

Because you are the only option for me.

Love,

James Bucky Barnes

Tears welled in your eyes as you realized all the while you had been pushing Bucky away, he had been falling for you. All the times you tried to protect your heart from him, he was silently letting you into his. You misjudged him for how he was, and overlooked who he became for you.

Grabbing the little bear and your keys you quickly ran out of your door only to find Bucky outside leaning against his motorcycle quietly looking up at the sky.

Halting in your tracks, you stood still as you took in the striking man lost in rumination.

All you’d ever wanted was for someone to care for you, honestly and truly. A person you’d never have to second guess; because all life ever gave you was people to doubt. You chastised yourself for not realizing that you had found it in him.

“Hey,” you said.

Bucky blinked, coming back to the present moment. “Oh hey, I was just —,”

“I read the card,” you murmured.

“Uh um —,” He placed a hand behind his neck as he thought about how to explain that.

“Will you be my valentine?” you interjected as you held out the bear. “Even if we are a bit early.”

Bucky furrowed his brow, “Really?” he whispered as he reached out for the plushie.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” you said as you stepped closer to him. “I was scared of opening myself up and getting hurt again — but I’m done pretending we’re anything less than what we are,” you said candidly.

Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat; here he was wishing to the stars for the girl he treasured to somehow feel the same way, and now there you stood.

”Oh yeah, and what are we?” he asked with a soft grin.

“A whole lot more than just friends.”

He set the bear down on his saddle and grabbed you by the waist. Pulling you into his arms as he looked into your beautiful eyes with an adorable smile on his lips. “I don’t want to hurt you, angel. All I’ve wanted for months now is just to call you mine,” he said as he cupped your cheek.

You leaned into his touch, feeling warm and grateful that your feelings were reciprocated. “I really am sorry, Buck. I —,”

“It’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for,” he said before gently kissing your forehead. Your eyes flickered up to meet his stormy-blue ones looking at you adoringly. “You are the one I’ve been waiting for and I’m happy to be here now.”

Your hand made its way to the back of his neck, “And you’re sure about this? You don’t think you’ll grow tired of me too fast?” you whispered softly. This was still new, and your head liked to give you doubts your heart knew were unwarranted.

He could feel your apprehension and he understood now that you were cautious — but he was more than determined to treat you with the love and unending devotion you deserved.

Bucky shook his head, incapable of keeping the grin off his face. “Believe me, I will never be tired of you,” he said sincerely, before his rough hands squeezed your hips and his lips collided with yours.

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sakuraryomen01 · 2 years

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"Baby, Please." |Yandere! Ghostface! Toji X Reader| FEMALE VERSION

☆ Warnings: Dub-con/Verge of Non-con, knife kink, blood kink, choking kink, thigh riding, Dilf themes, dacryphilia, voyeurism, dom! Toji, yandere! Toji, mentions of death (Gojo, Suguru), slight Gojo x reader/ Suguru x reader, mentions of some past cheating, belly bulging, slight cockwarming, hair pulling, affectionate dilf (???), manipulation, controlling themes, rough sex, possessive! Toji, ex-boyfriend Gojo, clit torture, size kink, cervix bruising, cervix fucking, slight breeding kink, oral (fem recieveing), squirting

Reader: Female Reader

- Male Version ￫ Here

- Non-Binary Version ￫ Here

☆ Plot: Drabble/One shot, Smut

☆ Words: 3.95k

A/n: I saw the new Scream movie and have been in a Toji simp mood for the last 24 hours so this was just *french kiss* ✨ perfect ✨

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!

Heart pumping blood through your veins, the sound of the thumping almost deafening as you rushed inside your house. No doubt in your mind that the killer was behind you with that knife covered in blood.

Who was it? Why were you the target? Your mind raced with questions as tears streamed down your red cheeks.

Finding a closet and diving inside, you choked on a scream as a body of someone fell onto your back. The scent of blood and metal filled your nose as your eyes burned with fresh tears. Pushing the door open again, you stumbled out and looked down at the person's body only for your throat to tense at the identity.

Gojo..?

His normally shiny blue eyes are foggy and unclear with death as blood poured from the deep gash on his throat. White hair tinted with the crimson liquid and sticking to his forehead, his clothes ripped to shreds. It looked like it was personal, but you couldn't process it.

How could Gojo Satoru, of all people, be dead?

Covering your mouth, you whimpered as you tripped from your ex's body until you managed to find an empty bedroom and lock the door with your eyes blown wide.

"Oh, you're so cute when you're scared, kitten," The voice of the murderer cooed from the other side, making you cry.

"Leave me alone.. please!!" You sobbed, the sounds of their foot trying to kick down the door echoing in your head.

You wanted to cry, call for help, do something to make this nightmare end, but you couldn't. The phone lines were cut, and you were at a house with no neighbors to notify or alert. And the city was a two hour drive alone, but all the cars were locked or didn't start up which left you stranded.

Leave me alone. Let me live, I don't want to die!!

"C'mon, doll~ Open the door!!" They yelled, the door's middle already seeming to crack under the repetitive force.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!!" You cried, curling into a fettle position on the ground and covering your neck and head.

Make it stop! Make it end!!

The sound of splintering wood made your shivering stop, hearing the loud thumps of their boots hit the floor. Looking up, you watched as the killer pushed the chair to the ground, unlocking the knob once his hand was through and pushed open the door.

The sight of the ghost face mask came into your view, blood running cold at the tall figure, and your tears stopped.

"Well, hello, kitten." They chuckled, stepping forward to your crouched figure.

Kneeling down and perching their elbows on their knees, looking at eye level with you. A chuckle leaving their mouths as small drops of blood dripped onto the floor from the god forsaken knife they carried.

"Wh-Who are you..?" You voice echoed, your nerves numb as they cocked their head to the side slightly.

"Don't recognize me?" They asked in return, to which you shook your head. "Well of course you wouldn't; your eyes were trained on that man-whore of a boyfriend, Gojo Satoru."

You flinched, mind racing with that break up; remembering the reason you left him. He cheated on you with some skank that had her eyes on him for months, but it was months ago. Months had gone by, but you were still hung up on him.

"Oh, love, don't look so heartbroken," The killer cooed, raising their hand up to pinch your chin.

"You don't need to worry about that prick ever again, okay? I'm here; I'm here to make you feel loved, wanted, cherished.. Everything that he or that emo boy ever will."

"Suguru-?!" You choked, your lungs burning from lack of air.

"Yeah, him!" They cackled, dropping the knife and lifting their hand to their mask. "Suguru Geto, right? Well, I took care of that little pervert for you, so don't worry, kitten."

"Stop calling me that." You spat, your brows furrowed. "He wasn't a pervert, and Gojo doesn't mean shit to me."

"Oh I'd hope so, otherwise, we'd have a little problem.."

Your breath hitched in your throat; green eyes glaring daggers into your soul as the mask dropped to the floor and joined the knife. The face of Toji Fushiguro with a devilish, scarred smile filled your sight, your heart stopping in fear and sorrow.

His smile seemed to tease you, your cheeks heated at the sight of him, but your brain was screaming "No!"

"Toji..?" You mumbled, tears streaming down your cheeks again.

"Oh, don't cry, baby~" He cooed, rubbing his thumb over the small bead. "You don't need to anymore, I'm here to keep you safe."

Standing, Toji pulled you up along with him, smiling at the looks of fear in your eyes. Grabbing his knife again, he ran the blade over your jawline and down your neck, giggling to himself at the bloody trail that seemed to follow due to the previous killings.

"I've waited too long for that fear, kitten." Toji bit his lower lip, bringing the knife lower and lower to your collarbone.

"I knew that once I found out that your 'boyfriend' went astray, I'd have a good reason to take him out. And that Geto boy, he was just a pathetic pervert that couldn't take his shot with you since you thought of him as nothing but a friend."

Sure, Gojo cheated on you, but that wasn't a good reason to kill him. And Geto wasn't a pervert; he was a quiet, though sometimes a really dramatic, friend that you confided in throughout most of your sadness over losing Gojo and in general.

Though the anger in Toji's eyes at the mentioning of your friend and ex made your heart stop and it kept you quiet.

"They were both just little flies," He muttered, a grimace forming. "Roaches that needed to be squashed."

With that, Toji shoved you over, your limp body hitting a wall before his strong build stopped you from falling to the ground. A deep laugh left Toji's chest, a proud glimmer in his eyes as he lifted your face up by the chin once again.

"And now? You're all. Fucking. Mine."

Dipping his head lower, he pressed his warm lips to yours in a firm kiss. His tongue worked around and played with yours as you struggled against his hold on your waist. The taste of metal soon filling your mouth as a muffled scream left you as Toji bit down on your tongue.

"Mm..~" He cooed, licking his lips of the blood and smiling down at you. "Tasty, love."

"Fuck you." You growled, glaring up at him as if your eyes were to burst.

"You can do that, if you wish."

Toji glanced back at the bed that sat in the middle of the room and smirked, his teeth dragging against his lower lip once again as he returned his focus onto you again. Pulling you by the arm over to the mattress, he tossed you like a rag doll and climbed onto the bed with you.

Your small form dwarfed by his while he caged your arms above your head with a single hand.

Toji's eyes glued to yours with a fire burning behind them, the feeling of the knife grazing your outer thigh sent shivers up your spine. Closing your eyes, you bit down on your lip until you tasted blood as the metal traveled up your thigh and to your hip, where it pressed down until a cut was made.

"Such a little girl like you shouldn't be treated the way you were." Toji whispered, leaning down to pepper kisses on your neck. "Don't worry though, I'll take care of my little doll personally."

Kissing up to your jaw, Toji pulled the knife from your wound and replaced it with his hand. The firm grip he had on your waist, pressing you into the mat, made you quiver. His tongue lolled out of his lips and ran up your jugular, teeth nibbling on your flesh until Toji lifted himself up again.

"God, you're such a cutie.." He praised, pressing his knee flush against your heat. "And you're all mine~! I couldn't be any happier.."

Muffling your retorts, you glared up at him, which only seemed to spur him on further. His hand squeezed your cut, making you wince and close your eyes. But he eventually let go of the wound and traced his fingertips over your tummy and pressed down on your abdomen.

"I wonder.." Toji started, soon letting his hand travel northward to your breasts and cupping the underside of the lace bra.

“Could I make your belly bulge with enough of my cum?”

The thought made your heart skip, in a twisted and fucked up, kind of way. And even though you despised the idea of Toji's cock inside of you, your cunt twitched with want. The need to be touched and played with as Toji's knee grinded and pressed against your clit deliciously.

The murderous male noticed your squirming, and smiled. "Do you like that idea? My cock pummeling your cute little hole til I breed you?"

“Of course, fucking, not!” You yelled, your brows furrowing in anger. “You’re a disgusting, perverted asshole! Why in the fuck would I want to be fucked by you?”

"Your cunt is telling me so." Toji smiled, lifting your shirt and exposing your bra and torso to him. "And by the looks of it, you want to be fucked by me."

Grinding his knee harder, you pressed your head into the mattress and stopped the moans that wanted to leave and prove him right. Though, despite your denial, Toji's thigh was hitting your clit just right. Pressing against your pleasure point and teasing it every so often until he removed it and spread your thighs apart.

"You-" Glaring down at him, watching as Toji's hand went down to explore your nethers.

Slipping his thumbs into your waistband, he tugged on your jeans until they fell off. Though, as a last ditch effort, you reached your hand up to push him off. But he caught your hand and forced it down, the grip on your wrist hurt like a bitch, and you wouldn't be surprised if there was a bruise later on.

"Don't you ever, do that again," Toji threatened, picking up the discarded knife and lifting it to your neck.

Your eyes widened, feeling the cold metal against your jugular once again as you looked up into those killer eyes. Toji's brows furrowed together, his nostrils flared and a steady pace of his breath telling you that you've fucked up.

"Raise your hand to me again and I'm cutting it the fuck off. Do you understand, little kohai?"

"Y-Yes.. Toji.." The knife pressed down again, but not enough pressure was added to create a fatal wound, before it was placed back down onto the mattress next to your hip.

"Good!" Toji smiled, kissing down your tummy and to your inner thighs, rubbing circles on your skin as he got closer to your heat. "I don't want to cut up the cutest baby girl in the world."

Situating himself between your thighs, Toji leaned forward and pressed his lips against your clothed pussy. His nose pressed against your clit in an almost teasing way until the pressure left as Toji's lips moved north.

You kept your mouth shut, desperately trying to keep your moans and whimpers in your throat as Toji worked your cunt even through your clothes.

Pushing your panties to the side, Toji dipped his pointer into the sloppy mess of your folds and rubbed circles around your clit with his thumb. Your quiet mewling soon being released as you couldn't take it anymore; He was so good, it was illegal to be able to touch someone this way.

"You like this, hm?" Toji asked, pressing on your clit before lowering his fingers and teasing your quivering entrance.

"M-Mmh.." Pressing your head into the bed, you looked to the side and screwed your eyes shut. "Sh-Shut up, you fucker- A-Ahh!!"

"Don't be all bratty on me, baby.."

Slipping the tip of his finger into your hole, Toji removed his thumb from your clit and replaced it with his lips. Sucking on the bundle of nerves and licking around the swelling bud. Your slick coating his tongue as you squirmed and practically cried under his mouth.

"Such cute noises, keep making them." He smiled, bullying your clit as his pointer and ring finger eased their way inside.

This slow burning torture was making you go mad; wanting to cum, to run away, to hump Toji's face until your orgasm hits you. Feeling his thick, rough fingers curling in your spongy walls and hitting that special spot just right inside you that would make you squirt so easily.

Toji's tongue circled your clit repeatedly until you came, and he sucked up your juice like it was his favorite drink. Coming up after he cleaned you, he looked up at you and smirked, seeing the dizzy expression you didn't even realize you had.

"Did it feel that good?" He teased, lifting your legs around his hips. "Let's see the damage, yeah?"

Pressing his finger to your slit again, he gently pushed until your hole ate him up. Toji groaned quietly at the tight squeeze he earned when he curled his fingers. Before the warmth could get to his head, he undid his lower garments and pulled them off.

His cock sprung forward, slapping your inner thigh and making him laugh.

"M-Mmm.. fucking-" You muttered, looking away and choking on a breath.

How the fuck was he even going to fit? The girth alone was going to make you cry at how much it was going to stretch you. But that didn't seem to bother Toji in the slightest, cuz he just pumped his fist a few times and lubed it with his drool before placing the head against your entrance.

"So," He mumbled, leaning down and kissing your neck, grabbing the knife again. "Are you going to disobey me again when I start moving? Or are you going to be a good girl for me and take your pounding?"

"Go to hell." You uttered, biting your tongue with a sharp thrust into your pussy made you clench.

Each groove of his cock made you want to spasm, the feeling of his pulsing veins against your plush walls had your cunt throbbing. His pink tip hitting your cervix with a deafening force, the heat of his cum slicking up your insides made you writhe underneath his fit body. Feeling for his biceps, your nails dug into the cloth of Toji's tacky costume and just barely being able to cut the actual fabric.

"Shit, girlie.. You really must've needed a fat cock to get you to behave, huh?" Toji teased, a sharp thrust emphasizing his words and making you see stars.

Though the slight sting in discomfort had your eyes welling with tears, Toji noticed quickly and lifted his gloved hand up to wipe the escaping droplets. A small smile on his face as he leaned down and pecked your lips, his warm tongue parting your lips and slipping into your warm mouth.

You could taste your own juices on the wet muscle as he worked it around, feeling out your mouth and moaning to the taste.

"So fucking long, I had to wait for this," Toji released you lips and headed for your neck, sucking and tugging at your skin as he pressed down on your wrists.

"You should've been mine from the beginning, but you kept chasing after that annoying brat. Fucking pretty boy took what was mine and he got what he deserved for breaking your perfect heart."

Toji paused for a moment to rip off the rest of his get-up before hooking your leg over his arm and tossing it up to his shoulder. The new angle letting him hit places you didn't think Gojo could ever before; the obvious difference in size making you cry out in forced pleasure and pain.

Stretching to accommodate such a size made your lower tummy ache, a bulge making it obvious where the male was in your gut.

"My fucking pussy, my fucking girl, my fucking everything!" Toji pummeled the very being out of your hole, abusing the power he had over you by bringing a hand down and slapping the fat of your ass.

"You're mine, got it? Mine, no one else's."

"T-Toji, stop-!" You sobbed, the burning in your tummy becoming too much as you squirted all over his abdomen.

He watched with a large grin as you undid underneath him, pressing your leg down and hitting even deeper. That knot forming in your tummy as you slowly reached an orgasm that would knock your need to walk for a month, Toji insuring it by slapping your ass over and over.

Bruising strength it each strike until he stopped and palmed the heated flesh, dragging a nail over the welps and lumps sure to form.

"Got you squirtin' on my cock, eh?" He asked, gripping your hips with a bruising force.

"Like it? I made sure that I took care of my body so that you'd enjoy it. God, but I wasn't ready for your- fuck -tight pussy clamping down around me like this. Jesus, fucking Christ -You must love how my dick feels if you're squeezing so good for me, little kitten."

"F-Fuck you, shit, fuck you! A-Ahh, mm-!!" You moaned, clawing at Toji's shoulders and drawing blood.

Sneering at the pain, Toji groaned a final time before forcing another climax out of you, cumming inside your puffy walls and rocking his hips. The bed ruined, despite barely being touched, and your hair damp and sticking to your forehead. A chuckle left the murderous male as he took a good, long look at your trembling figure.

"Look at that," He smiled, eyeing your connected bodies and dipping his finger into the warmth of your velvety heat.

"Cunny's dripping with my cum. Bet it tastes just as good as it looks."

Pulling his cock free from your pulsing insides, he dipped his head down to taste as promised and soon brought out another load from you with his lips and tongue. The gentle pulsing of your clit and cunt made Toji laugh when he sat back up, his big chest heaving slightly.

"Can't wait to get you home and go all night, kitten."

[ Thank you for reading my first drabble! ]

Honestly had lots of fun writing this, even though it felt a little rushed at the ending, but whatever.

(I really had some time thinking about my actual kinks writing this shit so- 💀)

~ UPDATES:

Lost Lamb is getting updated sometime soon, along with a part two to an older Sukuna x Reader (try and guess ^^)

Property of sakuraryomen01™

Please do not steal, copy or repost onto any other platform.

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fangirltothefullest · 2 years

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Superhero who has adhd so they have no idea they also have telepathy at first and its just shenanigans later when they discover it's also mindreading and not just weird guessing based on the inability to shut out all input like am I hyperfixating on this show or is it on repeat in my brain because Neighbor Stacy keeps watching it every night?

Like look I'm sorry- I know I read their minds during that mission to discover their plans but I completely forgot to write it down and I can't remember most of what was said???

Oh the sticky notes? Yeah I can barely remember my own thoughts why do you think they're colour coordinated? These ones are mine and the rest is... uh... everyone else ever...... i need more colours but but keep forgetting to buy more.

Yeah its gonna take me a while to work out their thoughts, their brain is all over the place- hey villain henchmen buddy maybe you should think about like getting checked for adhd your brain is racing as fast as mine is.....

Can someone PLEASE stop thinking about that one song from that soap commercial- it's clashing with the one already in my brain and I'd like to keep them separate, thank you.

#superheroes #adhd

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ultr4vjolence · 2 years

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ATLA / TLOK RECS .ᐟ

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ZUKO OF THE FIRE NATION

ᥫ᭡ heart’s fury

a search for a living legend; two different agendas.

she must succeed or the fate of the world will be thrown off balance. working alongside the very person she needs to stop proves to be much harder than she ever would have guessed.

ᥫ᭡ everything happens for a reason

as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to realize a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

ᥫ᭡ emerald flames

you’d been told you were lucky enough to be born in the fire nation and, more than that, lucky to be a bender. not by your parents, no, they’d instilled their sense of outrage and indignation right into you as soon as you were old enough to understand. only by teachers, school friends, and the odd family link were you condescendingly told to be grateful for your ability, and you'd put an end to that quickly enough.

in your mind, it was simple: you'd just stop bending. that way, no one in this wretched, impudent country would know, which meant no one could report about your wretched, impudent fortune, which, by extension, also meant that no one could have you fight in some wretched, impudent war.

and it worked... for a little while.

incidentally, fire prince zuko has some awfully quiet footsteps.

ᥫ᭡ your favorite worst nightmare

a skilled and intelligent bounty hunter with a mysterious past gets hired to finally hunt down and kill the avatar. but, instead of finding who she is looking for, she finds a stranger injured in the woods. this nomad, however, is not exactly the earth kingdom refugee he makes out to be.

ᥫ᭡ avatar: the last airbender

in hunting down the thieves that took the waterbending scroll from Y/N’s home, the north pole, she finds the avatar and his friends. travelling with them to return to the north pole, she goes on many adventures and decides she wants to stay with them and help them defeat the fire lord.

ᥫ᭡ where the sparks were cold

you are born and raised in the capital city of the northern water tribe, to an upper class family that allows a little bending of the rules. always a rebellious and fierce spirit, you've had a hard time growing up with the strict ideals your tribe has for girls.

luckily, things change for the better with the arrival of a legendary child monk and two of his friends. you discover you may have a way out of the life that strangles you and a chance to help change the world.

and along the way, you meet a certain exiled prince who makes your heart race, and helps you understand what it means to play with fire.

ᥫ᭡ she chose well

in times of war, fear runs wild and panic is quick to grip the hearts of individuals that let it. these are times when mothers turn against daughters, neighbors against neighbors, and entire nations are not privy to collapsing at the hands of terror.

and what better distraction to have than a dancer and her pet monkey?

ᥫ᭡ guidance

zuko finds a woman in the forest, she’s ready to help him and guide him through life. because she shares empathy with him about being not wanted.

ᥫ᭡ burning love

you’re a female thief, enemy of the fire nation, and partially on friendly terms with the earth kingdom. well, that is, until you teamed up with the former prince zuko, son of fire lord ozai. after seeing that he had split up from his uncle, you decided to join him on his journey to ba sing se, and a little romance forms during the trip.

ᥫ᭡ the unpredictable fire queen

fire lord zuko needed a wife, fast. you were the least tolerable of the bunch, so why not? he just didn't know what he was setting himself up for...

ᥫ᭡ rotations

Y/N grew up as a wealthy aristocrat. in this fic, Y/N realizes the negative affects her home has had on people all over the world. but she has a big decision to make: will she remain loyal to the one person she’s ever loved, or will she give up everything to do what’s right?

ᥫ᭡ best kind of medicine

all you wanted was for zuko to take better care of himself.

████▒▒▒▒▒▒ 40%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ SOKKA OF THE S. WATER TRIBE

ᥫ᭡ beneath the moon

Y/N never felt like she belonged in her home nation. after losing the most important person to her, she has to cope with the incident while also trying to figure out what her purpose in life is.

ᥫ᭡ secrets told in darkness

you and sokka get split up from the rest of the group after a sudden attack from the fire nation. staying overnight in a cave with him gives you plenty of time to discuss some disclosed feelings.

ᥫ᭡ councilman sokka

councilman sokka and Y/N L/N have been friends for a long time, even as they got their dream jobs in the republic. but then sokka realized that maybe friends wasn't enough for him. with his new feelings coming into play and an underground swimming pool, sokka knew he wasn't reading this wrong.

he was sure she liked him, too.

██████▒▒▒▒ 60%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ BOLIN & MAKO OF THE UNITED REPUBLIC

ᥫ᭡ reminiscence

Y/N shows up on mako’s doorstep with no memories of her past. the new team avatar knows exactly who she is, and not everyone is happy about having her back in republic city. plagued by questions, Y/N is desperate to find out what her past is, how she’s connected to team avatar, and why someone would take her memories away in the first place.

████████▒▒ 80%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ IROH II OF THE FIRE NATION

ᥫ᭡ the unpredictable fire adventures

he was supposed to be the fire nation’s prince. you were supposed to be the fire nation’s top student. having never spoken before, you two end up on an adventure that neither of you planned. but he’s stuck with you, and you’re stuck with him on an adventure that's completely unpredictable.

██████████ 100%

A C C E S S G R A N T E D. . .

#avatar the last airbender #atla x reader #atla x y/n #zuko x reader #sokka x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #atla fanfic #atla fic #atla fandom #iroh ii #iroh ii x reader

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littlemisspascal · 2 years

Text

Love Triangles Part 1

Pairing: Dieter x Female Reader

Word Count: 2000+

Summary: Dieter Bravo is beautiful. Sure, his wardrobe leaves much to be desired and he doesn’t always stay on top of his personal hygiene and he wanders the halls high on marijuana edibles from time to time. But still. One look at his luscious brown curls and matching piercing eyes–there’s no arguing. He’s so beautiful to look at, it's almost cruel he’s your neighbor.

Warnings: Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Language, Soulmates AU with Identifying Marks, Mention of edibles + being high, Reader has no name or physical description except for being shorter than Dieter, Reader has a favorite book series, Pining...so much pining...

Author Note: Inspired by Dieter’s triangle tattoos. I have about 85% of this fic written so I hope to have another update soon. Thank you so much @beecastle for listening to me ramble about this idea and helping put the plot puzzle pieces together 💗

PART 2

You impatiently jab at the elevator button with your thumb, convinced it's taking its time reaching your floor just to irritate you. The thing is, see, the next book in your favorite series comes out at the bookstore down the street and you’ll be damned if a late elevator in your apartment building is what prevents you from your goal.

(Readers might be wondering, why not take the stairs? To which you would answer, “I live on the ninth fucking floor. I don’t have a death wish, thank you very much.”)

The light pinging sound announcing the elevator’s arrival has you grinning like a madwoman. Looking down to adjust your shoulder bag, you miss noticing the person exiting until you’re bumping straight into their chest.

The ripe, pungent scent of week-old-unwashed-clothes hits your nose. And only one man in the entire building smells like that.

“Heading out, Pidge?” A deep, husky voice reminding you of the jagged walls of a canyon carved by years and years of river water rumbles in your eardrums, temporarily silencing your racing thoughts.

You look up, seeing Dieter standing there in his favorite raggedly bathrobe with too many stains to count, one arm braced against the elevator door preventing its closing.

“Tramp,” you greet with a smirk, though your fluttering heartbeat betrays your exterior calmness.

Dieter Bravo is beautiful. Sure, his wardrobe leaves much to be desired and he doesn’t always stay on top of his personal hygiene and he wanders the halls high on marijuana edibles from time to time. But still. One look at his luscious brown curls and matching piercing eyes–there’s no arguing. He’s so beautiful to look at, it's almost cruel he’s your neighbor.

You’re not the only one who thinks he’s attractive either.

In an apartment building full of odd and unique residents, Dieter’s flirtatious and charming personality combined with his handsome, scruffy looks deservedly earned him his Disney character nickname.

“Where are you flying off to?” Dieter asks, shifting to lean against his braced arm despite the warning sound from the pissed off elevator forced to remain stagnant. Given his red-rimmed eyes, you think Dieter’s too high to even care.

You fiddle with the strap of your bag, a distraction so your fingers don’t succumb to the urge of attempting to tame his crown of tangled curls. “The bookstore down the street.”

He nods as if he had expected that response. “The new Constellation Chaser book came out today.” He says it so matter-of-factly you can’t help but gape at him, unable to conceal your surprise.

“How did you…?”

Dieter leans forward, warm breath fanning across your face, and there’s a dopey, dimpled smile playing on his lips. “I always remember your favorite things, Pigeon.”

Your heart lodges somewhere inside your throat. Eyes flicking between the open elevator and his brown eyes threatening to ensnare your soul, you force your feet to move, squeezing yourself through the narrow gap between the wall and Dieter’s broad frame.

Within the safety of the interior, you make the most of the few precious seconds you have before Dieter turns around to inhale several gulps of desperately needed air.

So, yeah, okay, you’ll admit you maybe have a tiny, little, infinitesimal crush on Dieter. It’s not a big deal. Everybody probably has a crush on their neighbors from time to time. You’ll get over it.

You have to get over it.

And the reason why is right there on the inside of Dieter’s left forearm–a triangle outlined in thick black lines. His soulmark.

“Have a good night,” Dieter says softly, arm returning back to his side as he steps back, those hideous crocs of his squeaking against the wood floor. There’s something about the sight of him standing there until the elevator doors smoothly slide shut, not quite frowning, but not overly happy to see you go either, that makes your chest hurt.

“He’s with Kate,” you mutter to yourself, words tasting like bitter poison. “He’s not yours to match with.”

Soulmarks are a rarity in the same sense that green eyes are a rarity. Only a small percentage of the global population is born with them. They resemble tattoos, except there’s a special shininess to the mark, a pulsing warmth like it’s alive beneath the skin. There’s also no method for removing soulmarks–not even via surgery. It’ll just show up elsewhere.

Yours is a solid black triangle imprinted in the middle of your left palm. It itches sometimes when you shake hands with people or pick stuff up, but for the most part it doesn’t linger in your thoughts all too often. You’re not in any hurry to meet whoever destiny has declared your other half, the one who shares an identical mark.

There are websites out there for those with soulmarks trying to find their match if you become truly desperate. But you’re a hopeless romantic at heart and have grown up fantasizing about meeting your soulmate on your way to work, or at a coffee shop, maybe even reaching for the same box of cereal at the grocery store. An ordinary day suddenly becoming remarkable and memorable. An anniversary to be celebrated for years to come.

A day you thought had finally arrived when you first met Dieter.

Just a few weeks after you had first moved into the building, you’d attended a resident meeting the landlord–an English man named Gavin, also referred to by your fellow apartment inhabitants as Mr. Banks from Mary Poppins due to his uptight and strict nature–insisted on having once a month to address any concerns or new rules and regulations.

Being new, you hadn’t known until you arrived that the meeting resembled a cocktail party, complete with a long fancy table and mood lighting. Shyly wading into the room, uncomfortably aware of your faded Star Wars t-shirt and ripped jeans when faced with the sight of your fancily dressed neighbors, you’d initially attempted to keep to the corners of the room. Except once Sean locked eyes with you and introduced himself, in the span of ten seconds the other residents were drawn in like magnets to his cheerful personality and your newness.

You learned Sean was a personal trainer, restlessly moving and shifting as if electricity buzzed through his limbs; there was one married couple in the building: Dustin, a writer, and Lauren, a former professional tennis player, who lived on opposite sides of the hall on the third floor because they couldn’t stand each other, but they also couldn’t stand to be apart from each other; Carol was a wannabe actress by day and a waitress by night; Howie designed escape rooms with themes ranging from killer dinosaurs to creepy hotels; and then there was Krystal, a teenaged social media influencer who barely looked up from her phone long enough to make eye contact, and Darren, an eccentric filmmaker with a smile that stretched just a little too wide on his face and long stringy hair he kept not-so-subtly fixing by looking at his phone’s camera.

“Classic Gaston,” Sean said, shaking his head with a smile.

You’d also learned that day about the Disney designations everybody had. Nobody knew who started the whole thing exactly, but despite the ambiguous origins somehow the names had become a staple for the apartment community. Sean proudly proclaimed himself to be Thumper from Bambi before explaining Howie was Iago from Aladdin while Dustin was O’Malley from The Aristocats and Lauren was Georgette from Oliver & Company.

“God knows they fight like cats and dogs,” Carol chimed in, and Sean had tapped his glass with hers in agreement. Her moniker was Ariel from The Little Mermaid due to her long red hair and penchant for taking long morning swims in the building’s pool.

“Then little Krystal’s Tinkerbell,” he’d finished with a nod towards the teenager across the room, still typing away on her phone, “except instead of Neverland she’s stuck in La-La Land.”

An unattractive snort of laughter had escaped you at that, but before you could wish for the ground to open up and swallow you, somebody in front of you exhaled a quiet, “Wow.”

There had been a long moment where you and Dieter simply stared at each other. Well, you stared while he peered at you over the thick frames of his sunglasses (yes, he was one of those assholes who wore sunglasses inside and at night). His tan-colored shirt with its quarter-rolled up sleeves had the top buttons undone, revealing an almost obscene amount of his tan chest, a couple of freckles spattered along his throat and collarbone. You thought of your favorite book series, wondered if those freckles could form constellations, if your lips could trace the lines…

Sean’s hand on your shoulder snapped you out of your reverie. “And this is Dieter Bravo. Our resident Tramp.”

“He’s a tramp, but we love him.” Carol leaned in on your other side, half-singing half-laughing.

Even looking back in hindsight, you’re not sure why you decided to raise your hand and wave at him. You’d felt like an idiot as soon as you’d done so–probably looked like an idiot, too, when Dieter had reached out for a handshake at the exact same time. There had been another one of those silent pauses between you both. Then, ever so slowly he started to retract his arm, those pretty brown eyes lingering on your waving hand, some oddly intense emotion flickering in them but you’d ignored it in favor of trying to correct the awkward situation by hurriedly latching onto his withdrawing hand.

You overshot and grabbed his wrist instead, a static spark igniting from the point of contact causing you both to jolt. “Oh, uh, sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassment flooding your entire body. Clearing your throat, you attempted to force a smile on your face and were a little surprised at how easily it actually came, how genuine it felt. “Nice to meet you, Tramp.”

Dieter offered a crooked grin in return and turned his hand over, fingers encircling your own wrist in a gentle yet firm hold. “Pleasure’s mine, Pigeon.”

“Pigeon?” Sean sounded as baffled as you felt, forehead wrinkling. “Man, what the hell kind of nickname is that?”

Without looking away from you, Dieter answered, “One for a Lady.”

Somewhere beside you, Carol murmured a faint, “Geez, he’s smooth.”

You didn’t know it then, but Dieter had given you your second identity. From that day forward, you’d rarely be addressed by your actual name, everybody preferring to call you Lady.

Everybody except Dieter. To him and him alone you were Pigeon.

(Readers might be wondering, why did nobody else call you Pigeon? To which Carol would answer, “In the movie, only Tramp calls Lady ‘Pigeon’, so it’s just one of those unspoken rules, you know? Like…don’t blare your music on the subway, or start drama at a funeral, or have sex with a soccer player in a diner supply closet before your manager’s gone home.”)

You’d thought his answer had been just as baffling as it was sweet, but regardless it was still the longest (and weirdest) handshake you’d ever shared with a stranger before.

As you’d started to pull away, it was then you’d caught sight of his soulmark on his forearm.

His triangle soulmark.

Hope had exploded like a solar flare in your chest, every nerve ending lighting up all at once with excitement and joy and astonishment, thoughts reduced to a chaotic string of ohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.

A strangled noise clawed at your throat–a sob, maybe, or a hysterical laugh–because the day had finally come! The meeting you had been waiting for! Of all the people in the entire world, this man with his raspy voice and patchy stubbled jawline and uncombable curls was your soulma–

You glimpsed a second, longer look at his soulmark as his arm hung loosely at his side. And it…It didn’t…

Your heart stumbled to a halt.

It was a triangle, that much was true, but it wasn’t a solid colored one. It was merely an outline, his skin visible in the center where yours was not. It wasn’t a match.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

And almost instantaneously that solar flare in your chest transformed into a black hole, consuming every trace of happiness and warmth you’d previously been overflowing with, freezing you from the inside out. The back of your mind tried to tell you it shouldn’t have hurt so much to lose something that was never yours to start with. But it was impossible to hear when the front of your mind and every muscle and cell of your body was shouting it did hurt.

It hurt like hell.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #the bubble fanfiction #my fic #my writing #pedrostories

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iris-ren · 2 years

Text

a kirschtein holiday

jean x reader

tags: // general smutt //overstimulation// masterbation // use of good girl // curse words // nipple play // fluff

word count: 2k

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“i’ve been thinking about you all day”

you blushed at the sound of jean’s voice coming through the other side of the phone.

you audibly sighed into the device. you missed jean so much, it was hard being away from him especially when you were lying in bed at night without his warm body next to yours.

you were back home visiting family for the holidays while jean stayed behind in the city. “i’ve been thinking about you too actually, even being around my family doesn’t keep me from missing you.” you said as you stared at the sun drenched ceiling of your childhood bedroom, the blinds on your window casting a shadow onto the surface.

a beat passed before jean’s voice came through the phone again, “say the word baby, and i’ll be on the first flight out to you.”

you shot up from the bed, you felt like electricity was pumping through your veins as the warm sensation of hope filled your chest. “don’t say things you don’t mean jean, i mean it. don’t get my hopes up.”

you could hear jean speaking through the smile that was plastered on his face, “oh i mean it, all you have to do is say the word princess, your wish is my command.”

the warm sensation in your chest spread throughout your whole body, you tried to conceal your tone not wanting to sound too excited, “but what about my family? are you sure you’re ready to meet them?”

“i’m ready if you are, princess.”

———

later that evening, you noticed snow beginning to fall outside of your family’s dining room window. your mother and father were in a deep conversation over the neighbor's dog, while your grandmother was trying to explain the new bill that just passed congress to your hard hearing grandfather after finishing your mothers famous casserole. you disregarded your plate as you moved towards the window to take in the view, the snow looked so beautiful falling against the christmas decorations in the front yard, the powder white snow perfectly blanketed the red and green lights that lined the driveway.

your breath hitched in your throat when you saw a yellow taxi cab pull into the drive, you tried to bury the giddy feeling that was rising in your stomach, knowing exactly who was inside the vehicle.

you felt kind of creepy, just blatantly staring out the window but you couldn’t peel your gaze away when you saw jean’s tall frame exit the vehicle. he was dressed as dapper as ever, fitting for the freezing temperatures wearing a white button down shirt and slacks with a long wool coat on top. you could tell he left directly from work to catch his flight. you also took notice of the red poinsettia flowers and the bottle of wine that jean had in hand as he made his way to the front door.

your excitement rose to the surface when the doorbell rang, “i’ll get it!” you said as you raced to the front door.

jean smiled down at you fondly when you flung the door open, “hey-“ you didn’t give him a moment to speak, you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, taking him into a tight embrace.

jean hummed in your ear, “huh, guess you really did miss me.” he said as he placed a kiss into your hair.

“well hello there! you must be jean.” you released your boyfriend from your embrace at the sound of your mother’s voice.

jean attempted to readjust himself, having almost dropped the items in his hands from you pouncing on him. “yes ma’am, and it is a pleasure to meet you. i’m sorry for being late, it turned out to be quite a challenge finding a good bottle of wine inside the airport.”

your mother laughed as she took the items off of jean’s hands, “please come in, you must be freezing out here.”

———-

you were originally very nervous about how jean meeting your family would go, but it turns out your family just might like your boyfriend more than yourself. you were actually impressed with how jean was able to strike up a conversation with your typically reserved father.

there must be something in the wine. you thought as the two men cackled at each other's jokes.

the anxiety you felt before jean met your family completely melted away as you watched the scene play out before you.

your mother passed you a plate of pie as she took a seat next to you, “this one might be a keeper. he somehow broke your father out of his shell, if he successfully did that then.. well he must be a keeper.”

you blushed, still watching jean fraternize with your father and now grandfather.

———

your heart deflated a little when your mother broke the news that you and jean would have to sleep in separate rooms, she didn’t care how old you are now, there would be no “hanky panky” under her roof.

jesus christ.

jean placed a kiss upon your forehead before entering the guest bedroom for the night.

you pouted when he pulled away, missing the feeling of his lips on your skin. jeans hand gripped your waist while his tall frame loomed over yours looking down on your face intently, “i’ll see you in the morning.” his whisper of words caressed your ears sweetly, while the deepness of his voice compelled your pussy to grow wet. you instinctively pressed your thighs together in an attempt to push those feelings away, the last thing you needed was to get yourself all hot and bothered while you were home for the holidays. being horny in your parents house just felt completely wrong on all levels.

“okay, see you tomorrow.” you said as you quickly entered your room directly next to jean’s.

———-

you tossed and turned in bed for what felt like hours before you let out a huff of breath, abandoning the idea of sleep. you felt too pent up, you just wanted jean’s hands on your body but even if you were brave enough to disobey your mothers demand, you figured jean must’ve been asleep already.

conceding to your body’s needs, you flopped onto your back. you couldn’t believe that you were about to masterbate in your parents house all while imagining your boyfriend working your clit in the most heavenly way possible, the way only he can.

you slipped your sleep shorts off, discarding them on the floor and began to rub soft circles on your clit while snaking a free hand up your shirt to tease your already hard nipples. all thoughts evaporated from your mind as your hips began to instinctively roll against your hand, you picked up your pace against your throbbing clit. the temperature seemed to rise as warmth washed over your body, your mouth hung open as you panted heavily from pleasure.

your eyes went wide when you accidentally let a soft moan escape your lips, you were too lust drunk to stop your ministrations on your swollen clit, so you used your free hand to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sweet sounds flowing from it.

jean was wide awake, staring at the snow falling past his window, he already had a hard time sleeping without you, and knowing that you were just one room away somehow made it even harder. jean’s mind was filled with thoughts of you and your body, wishing that he could palm your soft tits as your nipples grew hard under his touch, while fucking you so slowly that your body ached from ecstasy. jean pictured your form perfectly in his mind's eye, squirming and writhing under his touch.

jean’s gaze moved to the tent that his hard cock made in the fabric of his sleep pants. he sighed, not wanting to act on his horny thoughts by jacking off to the thought of his girlfriend that was probably fast asleep just one room over.

jean was stunned when his ears picked up on the sound of your sweet moan coming from the other side of the wall, he held his breath for a moment trying to listen closer, thinking that maybe he was hearing things. a beat passed, and your voice was heard once again, though much quieter this time.

whimpers fell from your mouth, now that your hand was not there to prevent it. you were so lost in the moment from both of your hands being put to use, one hand worked circles fervently on your clit while the other pounded your g spot. you didn’t even notice the sounds leaving your mouth, your eyes were clamped shut picturing it was jean going to work on your cunt instead of own hands.

you were so lost in pleasure that you didn’t hear jean stealthy enter the room. his broad frame towered over you at the end of the bed, watching you in complete awe as your hands vigorously worked your beautiful soaking cunt.

jean was grateful that your eyes were still closed as your cunt began to quiver around your fingers.

you quietly whimpered jean’s name over and over as you came, your body shook still picturing him in your brain.

a deep voice broke through the silence, “i’m right here baby.” you gasped when your gaze met jean’s, noticing his hard cock poking through his pants, just begging to be let out of the prison of fabric that it was encased in. “you look so pretty like this, i didn’t want to interrupt you.” he said with lust filled eyes.

you simultaneously felt relieved by jean’s presence, while also feeling much more needy now that he was standing before you. tears pricked your eyes at the sight of the beautiful man admiring your naked body from above you.

your body too cried out for his touch, “please” you whispered, “i need you, now.”

jean didn’t waste a second, seeing you in this state could almost make him cum on the spot, he loved seeing you all needy and strung out. jean settled between your already parted legs as he cupped your face, “goddamn i’ve missed you so much.” he didn’t allow you time to respond, jean’s lips immediately locked onto yours initiating a long overdue kiss.

you moaned into your boyfriends mouth when his large hand palmed your sensitive breast, jean’s body responded to the sweet sound by rubbing his clothed cock over your overstimulated clit.

the motion sent shockwaves through your body, you couldn’t help but scream into his mouth.

jean broke the kiss to place a palm over your mouth, as he still grinded himself against your soaking wet cunt.

“shh shh shh… i know baby, i know. be a good girl, and stay quiet for me. okay?”

you nodded your head, as you stifled another whine when his free hand rolled your nipple between his fingers.

your overstimulated cunt was crying out for jean’s cock, your hips bucked against his clothed length, causing his cock to twitch at the motion. jean leaned down to place a sweet kiss on top of the hand that was covering your mouth, “mm.. gonna be a good girl and take all of my cock without making a peep? hm?” a single tear slid across your cheek, you felt like your body was about to combust waiting for jean to take you, you nodded your head in affirmation.

jean’s cock sprung up, after being freed from the tight confines of his pants. the tip of his cock glistened with pre cum as he kept one hand over your mouth, and used the other to grip your waist tightly while he sheathed himself fully into your swollen cunt.

your mouth gaped open under jean’s hand as your back arched off of the mattress, your pussy was already fluttering around his length while the tip of his cock pounded the spongy material that was your g spot.

jean wished that he could hear all of your sweet whimpers that his cock elicited from your mouth, but he couldn’t risk waking up the rest of the house if he removed his hand.

jean leaned down, placing an open mouth kiss on your tender neck while quietly moaning into your ear as he pumped deep inside of your core,

“mm. such a good girl, your doing so good for me.”

more overstimulated tears streamed across your face, as jean’s cock forced a second orgasm from your pussy. jean moaned into your neck again at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around his cock, causing him to cum deep inside you.

your hands raked through his hair while the both of you rode out your orgasms. jean’s hand left your mouth, and was replaced with a long languid kiss.

you both cringed when jean unsheathed himself from your tired cunt, he reached his hand up to cup your face again while his thumb traced circles over the tear streaked flesh, “i love you so much.” he said with a smile, as he placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

———-

“so did you sleep well in the guest bedroom jean? it can get a little drafty in there during this time of year.” your eyes went wide at your fathers question during breakfast.

“oh it wasn’t drafty at all, i was actually quite warm last night, i slept like a baby.” jean said with a smile as his gaze moved to you, “what about you babe? how’d you sleep last night?”

asshole.

you immediately changed the subject, “the christmas tree really looks great this year mom, good job.”

———

a/n: i just made a kofi you can get to it here or in my masterlist thanks for your support love y’all x

art credit: pwkj_cos on twitter

masterlist

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