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eightstarr · 8 months

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baby — abby anderson.

summary: you're on patrol with abby and you make her squirt for the first time. you don't mean to make a habit out of distracting her, but in your defense, it's hard to focus on anything else when she looks so pretty all serious and focused on keeping you safe! and you are only so strong!

notes: i don't ever really write smut and it for sure shows but anyway here it is! what no one asked for! yet again! also excuse the surprising amount of feelings that are in this considering it's technically supposed to be porn? it wouldn't be me if someone didn't say i love you at least once tho

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

"Do you have a danger kink or something?" Abby asks, trying to sound cool, but her breathing's a little too staggered for that. You've got her backed up against a counter in a random kitchen of a lonesome, old house.

You smooth your tongue over her pulse and feel her shudder, your hands sneaking under her loose shirt to cup her waist, fingers squeezing adoringly. "Can't I have some fun with my girl?"

"Yeah, but—" Abby cuts herself off with a moan that's almost embarrassing considering how little you're touching her. "You did this last time, too. It's like you want to get caught."

"Caught by who?" You scoff, lifting your head to look at her, nodding once as a silent way to say up. She abides without thinking, her palms against the counter as she pushes herself up to sit on top of it. You're needy enough that you don't bother teasing, no 'good girl', no 'what would your soldiers think if they saw you be so obedient?'. You slot yourself between her thighs and continue your assault on her neck, fingers brushing over chest. "There's no one here, baby."

Baby is perhaps your biggest tell. You call her baby when she's been away for too long, when you've had a long day and show up at her door unannounced, in the morning when you've woken up from a dream that left you aching that you refuse to share the details of no matter how much she asks. 'Baby' means you're desperate. And 'baby' makes Abby pull you closer, because nothing makes her need you more than you being desperate for her.

She lifts herself up enough to let you pull her cargo pants and boxers off in one motion, and her heart skips a beat as you sink to your knees, guiding her legs over your shoulders. She used to fret about that, fret about a lot of things— but the admittedly ridiculous thought of accidentally squeezing you to death was up there. You'd made the stupid joke, as anyone would, at least I'd die happy. But when that didn't quite work besides earning a roll of her eyes and a slight smirk to her lips, you'd simply gotten back to work on making her cum on your mouth until she had no choice but to close her legs around you. And when she did, the movement mindless and needy, you groaned and left loving fingerprints on her thighs enough to reassure her that you liked it. Loved it. You loved a lot of things that Abby used to be insecure about.

The point is, she shouldn't be shocked to see you get down on your knees. It's not an entirely unfamiliar sight anymore, you've made sure of that. But even on the first time you fucked, with all the eagerness and want and sense of overdue of your affections, Abby doesn't think she saw you quite this ravenous.

It's like you're drunk on it, like you didn't have her in a way not too different from this just a mere two days ago. You eat her like you're fucking starving. Not pulling away to breathe, your nose brushing against her clit just right, moaning every time she bucks her hips or pulls your hair.

When Abby cums, she feels it in her chest. It sinks on top of her, a lovely heaviness, and then drops off of her all together and leaves her weightless. When you don't stop, she breathes out a chuckle that turns into a broken moan and buries her fingers back in your hair, half expecting you to pull away still. But time passes, drags on and speeds away much too fast all at once, and you don't.

She's saying your name, she thinks, or a sound as close to it as her mind will allow her to formulate. Abby knows she's loud by the way her noises are echoing through the empty room, mocking her. Before she can feel embarrassed by it, as if you can read her mind as easily as anything else, you drag your mouth down and fuck into her with your tongue in a way that she didn't know could feel so good before she met you. As quickly as it came, the shame is gone. Her lips part and her sounds grow louder still, spilling out of her carelessly. You want to reward her, you think somewhere in the back of your mind, want her to know how much you love it. It's a privilege to make Abby Anderson a mess, and it always makes you lightheaded with need.

You wrap your mouth around her clit and suck, and Abby lets go of your head for once to grab onto the counter and make a lame attempt to keep herself still, her knuckles white.

The pressure building in her low abdomen is familiar, but then your hand comes to lay flat against the exact spot and something about the weight of it makes the feeling twist into something different.

Abby gasps quick breaths, her eyebrows furrowed in vague confusion and enough pleasure to drown it out and soothe the meaningless pain of bumping her head back against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, barely legible. And it's fine, she thinks, it's just like every other time. But then she feels it start to unravel, finally, and it's the same but also not at all. "Fuck, wait, I think— fuck!" she's panting, shaking and forcing her gaze to refocus just to watch the way your eyes fall closed, the way your eyebrows furrow. You moan against her and the sound is loud even while suffocated, even though you've somehow managed to push your face closer to her, press your tongue deeper. Abby feels it gush out of her and it's nothing like anything she's felt before, so good and so much and she doesn't want it to ever end, even as she blabbers, "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You don't seem to hear her, hungrier than she's ever seen you— you look fucking possessed. You pull back and the sight of you is dizzying, embarrassing, and it's the only thing Abby wants to look at for the rest of her life. Your lips are glistening, yes, but so is your chin, your cheeks, her cum dripping down your neck. Your eyes are dark, more pupils than anything else, and they swallow her whole. You haven't pulled back too far, your breath still hot against her, but it's enough that you can replace your mouth with your fingers and rub on her clit. What's left in her comes out in soft spurtz, dripping onto the floor, and you couldn't tear your eyes away if you tried.

But Abby doesn't know that, doesn't know what you're thinking at all. You're surprised, but is it in a bad way? It must be. Are you disgusted? You're so covered in her that it feels like you'll never be able to wash it off, and Abby can't read your mind like you do hers, so she doesn't know that the thought thrills you, that your heart is fucking pounding in your chest, that your underwear is utterly and completely fucking ruined. You lick your lips and swipe your chin with the back of your hand, absentminded. Abby's thinking, begging, say something.

"Holy fuck," is all you can manage, a quiet mutter, breathless. Your fingers haven't stopped rubbing, but a whine and an especially forceful quiver of her legs makes you blink and you stop like you've just come out of a trance, your hand moving instantly to soothe up and down her thigh.

"I'm sorry," Abby repeats, and then you look at her face like you've just remembered it's there.

Look up at her like she's fucking crazy, like she's grown a second head, mumbling, "What?"

"I didn't— I tried to warn you," she says, even though she doesn't know that she could've. It felt so foreign, she wouldn't have known how to explain it, really.

You lower her trembling thighs from your shoulders carefully, not before pressing a kiss against each one, and then you stand up. Abby wonders if this is where you'll tell her you didn't like that, where you'll help her put her clothes back on and then you'll promise each other to never speak of it again. Instead, your eyes grow impossibly gentle, impossibly loving, and you tuck yourself closer between her legs. The hem of your jeans brushes against her core and she gasps, but doesn't move away. "Baby," you call softly, pecking her lips. "Has this never happened to you before?"

Abby feels a little like she's suffocating, the breeze coming in through the window you'd opened when you first came in not enough to soothe her anymore. But you brush your knuckles over the faint scar on her cheekbone and her shoulders grow limp, her body relaxing except for where she's shaking— fuck, she is still fucking shaking. She remembers your question and shakes her head.

You don't show her how embarrassingly proud that makes you, that you made that happen before anyone else did, because it's not the time. You tuck the feeling in your pocket for later and hum, barely resisting the urge to kiss her, to get back on your knees until they're bruised and make her cum in whatever form she'll give you all over again. "Did it feel good?" You ask, not mocking, but curious.

If she wasn't so embarrassed, Abby would've laughed. It is very possible, and the thought does nothing to ease her shame, that nothing has ever felt so good. But admitting that feels like too much, so instead she whispers, "Yeah."

You smile, happy, genuinely relieved. "Then what are you saying sorry for?" You ask, kissing her again before you can help it. "That's my fucking job. I want you to feel good."

The words alleviate like water to a small fire, and Abby feels silly for having forgotten that it's you who she's with. She's had the thought before, but it suddenly becomes more present than ever, practically breathing down her neck— that she wants to keep you forever. Keep is maybe a bad word for it. She wants to be around you forever, for as long as you'll let her, wants to move into your shitty apartment and make you breakfast and sleep every night in your cropped shirts that fit slightly too tight and make her look ridiculous. She ought to say she loves you more often, she thinks. You say it nearly every time you see her now, like the words have been bubbling inside you for too long and now they can't be kept away. It's a fairly fresh relationship, but the feelings are ancient for both of you, and it shows.

"I love you," Abby sighs, and presses her lips against yours before you can say it back. It's sloppy, she's barely starting to come down from her high, but you don't complain. You kiss her with vigor, like you're trying to spell it out with your tongue, I love you. When you pull apart, her eyes fall from your eyes to your chest and she winces, eyes squeezing shut as her forehead falls on your shoulder.

"What?" You ask, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head immediately, without thought.

"Your shirt," she mumbles against you. You glance down and let out a soft oh. The white fabric of your tank top is soaked, mostly near the neckline, sticking to your skin. You hadn't noticed. Abby lifts her head to look at you, freckled face flushed red, so pretty that you forget about the mess she made of you all over again. "You have to change. We can't go back with you looking like that," she says— or begs, more like.

"I didn't bring anything else with me," you tell her, humming appreciatively as you look back down at your chest, grinning. "Besides, this is my favorite shirt now."

Abby groans, the kind of whiney, timid sound that you could've never imagined her making before you become her girlfriend. The kind of sound that makes you weak in the fucking knees, needy and cotton-mouthed. "It's not funny," she hides her face in her hands and huffs, "'S embarrassing."

You're chuckling, but biting into your lip to stifle it when she lowers her head further down, chin against her chest. With careful touch, you wrap your fingers around her wrists and guide her hands away from her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her skin is hot beneath your lips, and you hum at the feeling of it. She's usually so cold, your Abby, freezing fingers sneaking under your shirt at night and making you shudder. It's a pleasure to make her warm, an honor to see her shy. You love her so much it tugs at you, a constant reminder.

"You're a dream, Abby. Fucking perfect," you say, as clearly as you can while dragging your lips down her neck. She's the hottest thing you've ever laid eyes on, so beautiful that sometimes you can't sleep, too excited that she's there next to you to ever close your eyes. And you need her to know, but you're not really one with words, so all that comes out is, "Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants, you know that?"

Abby moans. Her breath gets caught in her throat as you suck marks into her neck and she finds that she couldn't care less right now, about the evidence that'll be left on her skin or your stupid wet shirt. She guides your face up with a hand on the back of your neck, and kisses her flavor off your lips until she can't anymore, until her lungs burn and her lips tingle. Your voice echoes in her head. Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants. Nearly, she thinks. That doesn't sound very fair.

Thick fingers make quick work of your zipper, trailing over your lower tummy and sneaking under your underwear. She's a little fast, but you've never minded. Sometimes she'll notice and force herself to slow down, to savor, but most of the time her mind doesn't let her catch up to it. Like now. She can't worry about looking clumsy or overly-enthusiastic, because she just needs to feel you. Because she wants to check that you weren't lying, that she could've made you cum without ever touching you— and it's there, the overwhelming fucking truth of it soaking her hand. You gasp at the contact, and Abby's thighs squeeze you in place, as if you'd ever leave. "Jesus Christ," she pants. She finds herself saying it a lot lately. Jesus Christ. Oh my fucking God. Calling upon figures she doesn't believe in, delusional enough to think for a second that they'll bring some kind of comfort, release her of her sins.

You're so wet that it doesn't take more than a minute for her confidence to slowly grow back, so wet that it doesn't take more than two to make you cum. It's the fastest she's ever seen you fall apart, and it wouldn't be Abby if her immediate thought (right after that was so fucking hot) wasn't bet I can make it quicker. Her ego fizzles in her chest, warm and euphoric. Abby thinks she doesn't remember the last time she felt as proud about something as she does every time she makes you feel good. Isaac's occasional pat on her shoulder and mutter of 'good job' is laughable in comparison, as is the high of working herself till she's covered head to toe in sweat at the gym, as is everything else.

It might be the honeymoon phase the movies talk about. You slowly catch your breath and raise your head from her shoulder to look at her with the same adoration as you did when she kissed you for the first time, and Abby has a hard time believing that the feeling will ever go away. Movies get a lot of things wrong, anyway.

She's walking slower than usual on your way back home, her steps sluggish, and you're sweet enough to only make fun of her for it a little bit. One comment here and there, earning a scoff when you lean closer and offer to carry her bride style, a badly stifled laugh when you hum thoughtfully and wonder out loud about what Owen must be doing right now.

Her fingers are interlaced with yours and normally she would've let go by now, a little sheepish to show that much vulnerability in front of the people who are supposed to respect her, but the thought doesn't even cross her mind. You crack another stupid joke and she giggles like she did when she was a kid, silly and sweet, tugging your hand to her lips to kiss the back of it.

Manny looks you up and down as soon as you cross the gates, dark eyebrows raised. "The fuck happened to you?" He asks. You look at him with a confused frown and wait for him to clarify, "You're wet."

Abby's stiff as a board where she stands next to you, her quick blinking the only evidence that she hasn't actually been frozen in place by some kind of magic spell.

You're much more casual. "It's fucking hot. I poured some water on myself to cool off."

Manny hums. He's seen you do it before, maybe that's why he doesn't question it. He does note, though, the suspicious way in which Abby walks silently and swiftly past him with her eyes pointedly on the floor. Her hand is tight around yours still, and you follow because— well, of course you do.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #tlou fic #abby anderson x female!reader #abby smut

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xxliliana-screamsxx · 1 year

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SALLY FACE HEAD CANONS 💙

(I'm bored so why not)

Disclaimer: this contains mild nsfw so if you aren't into that kind of stuff, I have some general HCs too so need to feel left out ☺️ (characters are Sal and Larry 😊)

Sal Fisher 💙

He would most definitely plan treehouse dates

(TW) If you have SH scars, he will draw little stars, cats, hearts etc. Over them💞

He tries to be the giver in the relationship, but he always ends up being the one who has his head buried in your chest

Kiss him all over his prosthetic, he loves it ❤️

If you ask if you can play with his hair, he will 100% let you

Loves it when you scratch his scalp (he has a sensitive scalp so plz run your fingers through his hair)

Back to his sensitive scalp, he wants to tell you how good it feels but he can't describe it without it sounding pervy so he just keeps quiet

Would definitely rest his head on your thighs

You have boobs? Well they're his pillows now

He is great at comforting you 💖

If you're having a panic attack or you're just worried about something, he will be there to help you through it all 😚

His scent is like lavender mixed with a dash of an old book kinda smell and cigarette smoke. Ya know? Since he's around Larry a lot he'd probably have a slight cigarette smell to him.

Larry Johnson 🤎

He's a tits guy...prove me wrong

He's definitely a giver

Smoke sesh dates 😩👌 perfection

This man doesn't give a fuck who's watching, he will gladly make out with you in front of whoever

Just like Sal, he uses your boobs as a pillow

Not so great at comforting people as much as Sal but he tries okay 😭

You know how some plugs 🔌 will gives a few girls the "pretty discount"? Larry will give you that good kush for free and not just bc you're his gf but bc boobies 🧍(can't blame him, boobs are great just not when you have to deal with them 🥲)

KISS. HIS. CHEST. 👏👏

Bro LOVES when you kiss his chest, goes absolutely feral for chest kisses bro 🫠

Loves it when you braid his hair

Will definitely show the gang after you braid his hair

His scent is like fabric softener mixed with cigarette smoke, with a hint of marijuana

NSFW HCs❤️

Sal fisher 💙

He's a switch ❤️

He's a slut for chubby girls (same)

He likes giving and making you feel good but he LOVES it when you make him feel like he's on cloud 9 😌👌

When you guys both started being intimate with each other, he was a nervous boi. Ofc you guys both started out being Virgins and it was quite obvious that neither of you had any idea how to start

Sal was very nervous his first time, so he asked for you to be on top

The boy is touch starved, so when you gave him the littlest bit of skin to skin contact, oh girl he MELTED 🫠

Ever since you guys tested the waters with what you like during sex, he has come to like being the bottom a lot but he still loves making you feel good so he'll do top service 👌

He's a whiny boy, he most definitely whimpers... don't argue with me cuz me and you both know that he would 👁️👁️

Now a question that has probably been floating in all of our minds...does the prosthetic stay on during sex??? The answer is... occasionally.

Though he will take it off sometimes but he mainly takes it off when he's doing top service cuz it's gonna be hella hard to breathe with that on.

Please PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF SATAN PRAISE HIM 😩🙏

he most DEFINITELY has a praise kink, tell him how good he is, tell him that he's being such a good boy please 😩

Now for other kinks, he doesn't seem pretty vanilla but he also doesn't seem pretty kinky either. So I think he's kinky to an extent, like he'll be kinky with you only if you're comfortable with it

I feel like his kinks are edging, bondage, mommy kink. I feel like he likes receiving edging and bondage to an extent, and the mommy kink was something that he found out he had when you guys were at it

Like imagine you riding him and you keep on edging him and all of a sudden he moans out "mommy~" and it shocked both of you 💀 you guys both stop dead in your tracks and he starts apologizing for calling you mommy and ofc you kinda liked it 👀

So from then on he has gotten a mommy kink from that experience 🫠

Larry Johnson 🤎

Like I said with him being a tits guy, he ADORES your boobs.

When I say he adores them, I mean by full on worship, it doesn't matter if they're small or big as long as they are there, he'll worship them 🙏

He definitely loves chubby girls, don't argue with me about it🧍

About the body worship thing, he will spend hours on end buried in your chest

He'll run his hands over your curves and feel every curve,dip,scars, and any marks you have 🫠(I'm melting over my own HCs damn 💀)

He is a top but a service top 🔝

He's chill with whatever you wanna try in the bedroom as long as you're okay with it

I have a feeling that he would be a bottom for you if that's something you wanna try out

Not full on bottom but the type of bottom that praises you and worships you while you use them

He's good with his fingers fsfs 😩

If you have SH scars, he will kiss your scars and make you feel like the only girl in the world ❤️

I have a feeling that when he climaxes he slurs out something that just makes the butterflies in your stomach do flips like, "God you're so beautiful" "I love you" "I wanna stay like this forever"

High sex...🧍 don't lie you thought about it too

I think that in the relationship he would care a lot about you more than himself and he'd personally come to your apartment and check up on you

His kinks would be bondage, voyeur, edging

His moans are angelic 🫠😩

Okay that's all I got for now baby bats, hope you liked it and I shall disappear for the next week aka going to school and failing all classes in the process lmao. Love you all 💜

#sally face smut #larry johnson x reader #sal fisher x reader smut #sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader #sally face headcanons #sally face #sal fisher smut #larry johnson smut #larry johnson

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jaysgirlx · 2 months

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Hey sweetie, I’m feeling like I need a Jason fic where reader doesn’t like to be touched but he makes her feel safe enough that she gets used to him. Would that be something you’d write? I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night 😘😘

jason wasn't exactly a touchy man himself, he'd set a lot of boundaries as he grew older but he felt different when that came to you. he had the urge to want to hold you constantly but he quickly learned you weren't fond of that. there were too many mental scars that had yet to heal.

the two of you had been sitting side by side on his couch and he slyly tried to put his arm around you. you flinched and moved away quickly, and then came the word vomit.

"i'm sorry! it's really not cause of you- It's hard for me to- i just cant- it's okay if you don't want to hang out again after this, i just- i'm sorry!"

you were panting and trying to explain yourself because this wasn't his fault, this was a boundary you probably should've said earlier but you didn't. you were scared of losing jason too quickly because of your own issues but you were an idiot for thinking he'd leave like that. he was much better than that and he showed you exactly how.

when jason first realized that you weren't yet comfortable with him touching you he tried his best to make your dates and hangouts still romantic. instead of cuddling, he'd put pillows in between the two of you and you'd lay on them almost as if you were on him.

or when you two went out for walks he learned to wear long-sleeved shirts so you could hold onto his sleeve rather than his hand. it did take time to get used to but jason didn't see it as a burden he saw it as another way for him to show his love for you.

he found you the cutest when he'd be kissing you and you didn't know where to put your hands so you'd panic and grab onto his clothes. he knew you wanted to touch him but he wanted you to feel safe enough to make that first move and you eventually did.

"i swear it's not you or anything i just not comfortable being touched yet…i've had things happen to me and i just need time to feel a bit safer"

jason understood how you felt and respected it. he'd wait years if he had to, as long as you were with him, he didn't need much more. though your comfortability came much sooner than he thought.

it started off small like when you began to slyly slip your fingers into his and hold his hand. he won't deny that he actually blushed a little especially when you kissed him on the cheek goodnight. he knew he was probably touch-starved but he didn't realize how much he was missing without your touch.

you even started cuddling him during your movie nights and laying your body on his. and it was then that jason knew you felt comfortable with him. you finally felt safe.

things moved on a bit fast after that, your very gentle make-out sessions with jason became rough and needy. you'd dig your nails into his back while deepening each kiss more. your hands are roaming his back, trying to figure out what feels good, or what feels right but jason doesn't care. that fact that you're touching him is all that matters. that fact that you're comfortable is all that matters.

did jason dream of touching you constantly? absolutely! but would he have waited centuries to do so? only for you.

jason was in love with who you were and being able to touch you had nothing to do with that. this man fell in love with your personality and the love you were willing to give him and that was all he wanted.

"m'sorry for making you wait so long jaybird" you whispered while jason lips were busy kissing and biting your neck. he left a train of hickeys, hoping you wouldn't be too mad once you'd seen them, since you were quite focused on your current conversation "i know i'm a lot of work"

"good thing i'm a hard worker sweetheart," he said, while placing a hand on his hip and gently caressing your waist with his thumb. jason had started doing this,whenever he could tell you were overthinking or maybe overwhelmed. he was good with words but he knew how to soothe you "as long as you comfortable baby, then that's all i need"

you were all jason todd needed, he’d never admit it but he could love you from afar and still be happy because you'd be his and to jason that was all that was he really wanted.

for you to happy and safe with him.

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luveline · 1 year

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if you’re taking joel requests here’s one :3

touch-starved!joel who isn’t aware he’s touch starved but then extremely affectionate reader comes along and just always! touches! him! loving & intentional touches, casual touches—all of it drives him wild and he loves it!!

thank you!! I hope this is okay! Touch-starved Joel who wants you but doesn't know how to want you w/ mutual pining ♥︎ fem!reader 2k

Joel wishes you wouldn't work the same shifts as him. Wishes you didn't have to work any shifts at all, wishes you didn't know this life, but you do. He wishes you wouldn't pick all the high-paying, devastating jobs that he does, wishes you didn't insist on keeping him company. And above all, he wishes you wouldn't touch him, because he can't handle the way that he feels when you do.

Sharing shifts turns to seeing one another outside of the old meat market by accident. In turn, that becomes purposeful. Before he really knows it, you're comfortable enough to come by his apartment and you'll wait there even when he isn't home just to see him. Precious hours of your life spent curled in on yourself at his door.

Joel nudges your sleeping body with his shoe and then feels like the world's biggest asshole. He sighs, kneeling down despite his aching back, and shakes your shoulder. He notices how soft your jaw looks when you sleep and has to look away, lest he think about it too much now, and remember it later. You have this habit of chasing him into bed when you're not there.

Your hand wakes before your eyes do, and you curl your fingers around his wrist, half on his sleeve and half on his skin. Where you connect hums with heat.

"Why are you out here?" He changes his prerogative, feeling as though chastisement is more important. "You have no sense of danger, even now. Get up."

He doesn't speak without fondness. You'd have to look hard to find it, but it's undoubtedly there.

His tone has you awake and alert quickly, your gaze on his face. "I do," you say croakily, letting him pull you into a standing position.

"Then what are you doing out here?"

"I can't call first… You look tired."

"I am. I'm not staying up." He pulls his wrist from your lingering grasp. "Should've called."

"You act like you don't like me," you say without inflection, following him in through the door and closing it softly behind you.

He drops his jacket over the back of the couch and scrubs his face with both hands. His back aches from standing and heaving all day, his arms tight with a cramping tension.

If he were younger he'd turn around and wrap you up in his arms. He'd tell you what he really thinks of you, your head hooked in the crook of his arm, his free hand roaming lazily over your back. His pinky finger would run along the line of your jeans playfully, and maybe you'd laugh. You don't laugh as much as you should.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

"No, Joel."

You'd lie even if you were.

He moves into the kitchen, makes himself a small glass of water, and leans against the counter. He tries not to drink it like a total pig knowing you're watching, but he's dehydrated and cotton-mouthed.

The window paints you in a weak light, like iced tea. You pick over his things and arrange yourself on the couch like a tired house cat, pulling your legs up and rubbing your cheek against the backrest. Shoulders to the arm, you're almost lying down. He could superimpose you into his sheets, imagining how you might look in bed, not naked or waiting or anything so salacious, just how you’d look getting ready to sleep. He wonders if you wear pyjamas, figures you likely sleep dressed as you are now in your shirt and jeans. Maybe you swap denim for sweatpants, maybe you don’t. Maybe you peel your shirt off, maybe your bra. He entertains a life where he gets to see it and finds it painful as wrapping his hand around a hot poker, because that life is alarmingly close to this one, if he were to take one small leap.

“Where were you today?” he asks.

He sees a flicker of humour flit across your face. He knows it as one of your tells — you'd thought about bending the truth.

"You don’t have to worry, I’m just… rundown. Felt sicker than usual, so I stayed home."

It's automatic for him to give you a once over as he would with anybody who feels under the weather. You haven't been unlike yourself, you aren't sweating or irritable. You're fine. You’re more than fine.

You have a strange inability to look after yourself. He believes in positive (and negative) reinforcement.

"Good girl," he says.

You smile at your hands, picking at nails he knows are scrubbed raw and clean as he crosses the room to sit with you on the couch. You're quick to push your legs over his lap, your jeans riding up until the rarely-seen skin of your ankles peak out.

"I had an incredible headache," you continue. "And I felt like the blood was rushing in my ears when I stood up but I wasn’t dizzy.”

You touch him and it's like all his agitation starts to numb itself. The weight of your legs has him forgetting his aching back and his sore arms. He stares at his closed fist by your foot, willing himself to touch you; all he wants to do is grab your leg, feel the dough and softness of it under his palm. You sit up a touch to brush a longer piece of hair sticking out behind his neck.

He pretends you aren't moving at all.

"Do you feel better now?" he asks.

Your knuckle brushes under his jaw. He feels the short hairs of his beard catching.

"I feel fine," you say. "How are you feeling?"

He turns to face you head on. He’s not going to answer your question. You already know he won’t, but you've asked anyway. He isn’t sure what to do with that.

“You really do look tired,” you say softly, concern knitting your brows together. He thinks it’s your most devastating look yet. “I don’t wanna keep you up, Joel, I’ll go home. You can get some real rest.”

He almost says Hey, I don’t want you to leave yet, and you’re already standing up. You look more sorry than you should, believing that you're a burden on him when you aren’t — you're a lightness. You drain the levy, and he can’t see himself getting any rest at all if you leave.

You’re saving him the awkwardness, climbing off of his couch and out of his lap to track down your shoes. “And, you know, you could shower,” you say, trying to infuse some life back into the room, “I know the cold water bites but we all gotta do it.”

He stands up too fast and feels an absence of noise. No blood rushing in his ears, no beating heart. He’s too tired, in every sense of the word, to ask for what he wants. He can’t ask you to stay.

You lean down to hook your finger into the back of your sneaker and stop at his expression. You stand a little taller. Whatever vulnerability he sees in you now, your short black socks against the floor, your sweet-eyed, tentative smile, he suspects he’d find it doubled in the mirror.

“Joel, I…”

He can’t ask you.

But that doesn't mean you can't ask him.

"Do you think I could stay, after all? To sleep. Just to sleep," you say. Your voice is quiet, like you're trying to spare yourself some dignity if you need to take it back.

He thinks about it. You, in his bed. You, sleeping as you had been in his hallway, your lashes skimming the delicate skin under your eyes, your neck craned in. You, with your hands under your cheek, your sluggish breathing, your heart capering only a handful of inches from his.

A beat. "You kick in your sleep?" he asks, cotton-mouth returned.

"No," you say. You laugh through it, making the word so thick it's almost sticky. Honey in sound.

It solidifies what he's said yes to. He doesn't know how to sleep next to you. He barely knows how to talk to you, and doesn't try as he leads you into his bedroom. Thankfully, you spare him. He knows you aren't the most confident person on the planet, and that each bold move you make is for his benefit. He tries to be unflinching in return, kicking out of his shoes and throwing back the blankets to lie flat on the sheets. You settle in next to him with little ceremony.

You keep your legs hiked up at first, your heels digging into the mattress near his knees. You turn your face to his, and he turns his face to yours. He can see your every wrinkle and line this close. You must be seeing his.

"You got lucky with the neighbour lottery, huh?" you say, not quite whispering. "It's silent."

He doesn't want you to stop talking, but he can't help himself. "Almost," he says wryly.

You know him well enough to smile. "I guess you don't need the quiet," —you turn carefully onto your side, letting the weight of your knees rest on his thigh— "'cause you work all day every day."

The opposite. The shit he sees on shift is enough to give anybody insomnia.

"I'm the bad neighbour."

"Oh, right, your radio." The back of your hand touches his arm. The slightest of touches but enough to make him realise how much he wants it. He can't remember the last time somebody touched him who wasn't you, not for years now. It's an amicable casualness he can't explain away. He wants it worse than a hydro.

"I might, uh, might cling a little, in my sleep. You can push me away, swears. Even if you gotta really fight me on it." You close your eyes, burrowing your face into one of his flat pillows. Your knuckles jump up his arm as you get comfortable. "Jus' shove me."

He closes his eyes. The dark of his eyelids is usually a torment, but with you this close it lulls him quickly and without finesse. "I'm not gonna shove you," he says while he still can.

He's on the precipice of sleep when your hand slides up his bicep. You feel along the soft ridging of his muscles until your fingers slot between his arm and his chest, and your nose is kissing his shoulder. It's as if the moonlight has heat and it's bearing down on him through the dirty windows as every stressed ligament, every tensed tissue in his sore body finally gives in to rest.

When he wakes, he's missed his morning shift start. You're clinging to him like you said you would, harder than he'd think possible considering your unconsciousness, with your lips pressed to his shoulder. He thinks it might leave a bruise.

He dips his face toward yours until the tip of his nose nudges your forehead and goes back to sleep.

5K notes · View notes

libraryofloveletters · 3 months

Text

With Sweet Comes Sour

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: charles just wanted a peaceful valentines, so much drama and so many emotions, lots of tears, assumption of cheating (no actual cheating), weird ass exes, all the kids are in here, a few insulting terms, alcohol and the consumption of, being drunk, slight explicit content, bar brawls, blood and bruises, google translated french.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: okay here's another piece to the series, sorry it took me forever to get this out but I didn't have any ideas until now lol. happy early valentines!

Daddy & Me + Three Masterlist

The rollers stacked on her vanity as you undo the curls in her hair. Eloise was doing the final touches on her makeup as it was her first Valentines with her boyfriend, Anthony. They're going for the full cliché; movie and dinner and a stroll by the pier when they are done.

This is the first Valentine in 17 years that you and your husband have the house to yourselves. You were going to make the most of it, spending some quality alone time without your children pestering you.

You leave her to finish getting ready before going down to check on your husband. You hear the doorbell ring, and you figure it was Anthony here to pick her up so you let the boy in. Eloise comes downstairs in the meantime and you could hear her speaking to her father.

"How do I look?" She asks him; her baby pink dress sat above her knees.

The man smiles, twirling a curl that sat on her shoulder. "Très belle, ma chérie." (very beautiful, my darling.) You smiled as you watched the interaction, Anthony steps past you towards his girlfriend. He had brought her chocolates and flowers.

She kisses his cheek; young love.

He had another bouquet of flowers, Eloise sets her gifts down in the kitchen as Anthony walks to you. "For you," he hands you the roses, you smile at him.

"Thank you, sweetheart. That's very thoughtful of you," you toss a glance at your husband who definitely forgot to get you flowers.

Eloise returns a moment later, linking arms with her boyfriend. "You two be safe," Charles tells them. Anthony nods, "I'll have her back before midnight."

"Just come home safe, you're both old enough to be responsible." You say, walking them to the front door and sending them off with a wave. Your husband comes up behind you the moment the door shuts, hugging you from behind before he carries you to the couch.

"So pretty lady, what are we going to do with our empty house?" He asks, you could practically hear the mischief in his voice.

"I'm gonna order takeout and drink a whole bottle of wine," you nudged him off of you, making him groan.

Charles was hoping he'd 'get some' so to speak, seeing that the house was in fact empty and would be for hours. Eloise and Anthony wouldn't be back until after midnight, Sofia and Christopher had gone up to Marseille for the night to spend time together and Gabriel and Oliver were at some club with Georgina and Adrian for the night, so you weren't expecting anyone back anytime soon.

"This is our first valentines together, alone, in a long time," Charles tells you, watching as you sit next to him with two glasses of wine.

"I know," you tapped your glass to his gently before taking a sip.

"It's odd," he whispers into your shoulder, kissing your skin softly. You nod, "but nice. Now hurry up and pick a place, I'm starving."

"Always so charming, my love." He rolls his eyes, earning a playful nudge as he reaches for his phone. You two settled on the Italian place that Charles liked.

He put on some random movie that the two of you had started watching a few days ago and never finished. You find yourself cuddled in your husband's side, his arm wrapped around you as you two tried to figure out what was happening where you left off. Eventually, Charles gives up on the movie and focuses his attention elsewhere.

Your husband pulls you onto his lap, his hands on your hips. "What do you want?" You asked him, your own hands on his shoulders, one sliding up to the nape of his neck; his hair had been growing out, all fuzzy and tickling his skin.

"I can't give my wife some love?" He whispers into your skin, lips peppering kissing along your neck as he pulls you into him. He reached your lips, you mumbled a no before kissing him.

His hands slip under your shirt, yours tangled in his hair; you make a mental note to call your mother in law to book him a haircut.

It's like you're teenagers again, all over each other with no room to breathe.

Hands make quick work of Charles's shirt, tossing it behind you somewhere as he goes to flip the two of you over, pinning you under him just as the doorbell rings.

You can't help the giggle when your husband groans, getting up to get the door as he assumed it was the delivery man with the food.

Except he's met with an annoyed Christopher, who just rolled his eyes when he saw his father shirtless and his mother on the couch. He pushes past Charles and goes to the kitchen.

"Chris?" You called after him, seeing Sofia walk in moments later on the verge of tears and you get up, tossing Charles's shirt to him.

The brunette follows her boyfriend, not saying anything until she reaches the kitchen. There's a screaming match, the two of them switching from English to Italian and then a mix of both. Something about a restaurant and a guy or something along those lines. Sofia's holding onto Christopher's arm and he gently pulled away, walking out the front door and slamming the door shut. Charles follows behind him, probably talking him down from doing something stupid.

These damn Leclerc's and their drama.

Getting up, you walk over to Sofia and sit with her in the kitchen. "Is everything okay? We weren't expecting you two back tonight, actually, we weren't expecting you back for the entire weekend."

The girl sniffles, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "I hate him."

"Me too," you nodded, rubbing her back. "What did he do this time?"

"It wasn't even him, well I mean, it was but it was me. Actually, well.. it's complicated." She says and you raise an eyebrow, unsure as to what she meant. She speaks, explaining herself. "I bumped into an old friend, and when I say old friend, I mean an old friend. I haven't seen him in like, maybe, six years because he moved from Madrid to London. He just happened to be in Marseille with his girlfriend for Valentine's Day as well."

"Okay... I'm still waiting for what was so bad about that."

"I was waiting for Christopher to get out of the bathroom when my friend noticed me and tapped me on the shoulder. We exchanged hello and exchanged pleasantries, then he kissed my cheek on the way out. Christopher being Christopher, automatically assumes the worst."

You made a face, "so Chris got mad because.. he kissed you on the cheek? Is he dumb?"

"Exactly," she grumbled and you handed her a tissue to clean up her face. "Honestly, that's how Spanish men are, though. They're always affectionate, your father is the same way. I'm certain your friend didn't mean it in the way Christopher took it."

"Even if he did, I didn't take it that way. He has a girlfriend, and regardless, I love Christopher and I would never do that to him."

"I know you wouldn't." You gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Why don't you get something to drink? I'll go see what's going on with them outside hm?" You leave her be for the moment, letting her settle her emotions.

Charles is listening to Christopher ramble, the younger Leclerc spiralling and getting himself caught up in some nonsense lie that his brain made up.

"Christopher," you call for him, stopping him from speaking. He looks at you. "What?"

"You need to apologize to her."

He makes a face, confused as to why you're telling him to apologize when he clearly did nothing wrong, or so he thinks.

"Sofia is a sweet girl, who has no control over the actions of others, and who loves you very much despite your nonsense and your dramatic flare. So you get your ass inside and apologize to your girlfriend for ruining Valentine's day. Either you drive back to Marseille or you figure out something here, because you aren't gonna ruin today for her."

"He kissed her!" He says, flinging his arms in the air. Charles's eyes widened, "what?"

It seems Christopher had left out that detail.

"On the cheek," you clarify, "and so what if he did? You kiss Georgina on the cheek all the time and Sofia doesn't get upset. This guy was just some friend of hers, you need to get over your shit and put your ego to the side because if you don't, you'll lose her."

Christopher huffed, taking in his mother's words before turning and heading inside. You and Charles followed a moment later, hearing bits and pieces of their conversation in the kitchen but eventually, they came into the living room, holding hands.

"Dad," Christopher calls for his father, the man looks over at his son. "Can you get us a hotel room? I tried to get one but everyone says they're booked."

"I can try but why would it be different for me?" He asks, clearly confused and as clueless as the day you met him. "Because you're the prince of Monaco, Charles. Now start calling." You tell your husband, getting up to answer the door - the takeout had finally arrived.

Charles tried his best to get a hotel room for the kids, and even pulled his prince of Monaco card but despite it all, it was Valentine's Day and everywhere was booked.

Sofia decided that she wanted ice cream and Christopher, doing anything to make it up to her, agreed - ignoring the fact that he hated ice cream just for tonight. You sent them off with a wave before returning to your husband on the couch. Charles was refilling your wine glass as you took the food out of the bag.

You two had barely gotten 5 minutes into eating when the door opened and in comes Eloise with her mascara running down her face. She ran straight to her father's arms, collapsing into him.

Anthony follows behind her, the front door slamming shut as he rambles out something in French. "Ce n'est pas à quoi ça ressemblait! Ellie, tu paniques pour rien!" (This is not what it looked like! Ellie, you're freaking out for nothing!)

Eloise had returned home on Valentine's, in tears and was now holding onto her father as if he was going to disappear. The look you saw in Charles' eyes was one you thought was only held for Ferrari and all their torment but it was now directed to his best friend's son, - his baby girl's - his daughter's boyfriend.

"What's going on?" You handed Eloise a tissue, moving to sit on the arm rest of the couch, making yourself the middleman between Charles and Anthony.

The anger on your husband's face made you giggle internally, you could never take him seriously when he was upset - but you understood it. He didn't like to see his kids hurt, especially not his baby girl.

Anthony sighed, passing a hand through his dirty blonde hair; fluffy and flat, much like his father's. "My stupid ex girlfriend saw us while we were at the pier. She came to say hello and she was way too friendly with me - all over me, kissing my cheek, her hand on my chest, all in my face." He groaned, clearly disgusted by this girl.

"Why would you let her do that when you know you have a girlfriend?" Charles asks him, you could hear the roughness in his tone. Your hand gently moves to his shoulder, rubbing it softly.

You spoke next; "did she know you had a girlfriend?"

He nods, "Eloise was taking a picture of something so she was a few feet away and I guess she took it the wrong way when she saw her all over me. I was trying to get her to leave me alone but god, she's like a fucking pest - sorry," he makes a face when he realizes he swore. You wave him off before he continues. "Ellie took it the wrong way, which I understand but she won't hear me out, she thinks I'm cheating on her."

"Are you cheating on her?" Charles asks him.

"No!" You and Anthony answer at the same time; the boy trying to defend himself and you couldn't believe your husband would even ask that.

Eloise finally sits up, her father wiping her cheeks clean. Her blue eyes rimmed with red and slightly puffy from the tears and she turns to Anthony. "Va-t'en, je ne veux pas de toi ici." (go away, I don't want you here.) She tells him, voice trembling.

"Je ne pars pas, Éloïse." (I'm not leaving, Eloise.)

"Ok, je le ferai alors." (okay, i will then.) The girl gets up, walking the other way around the living room and heads up the stairs to what you could only assume was her room. Charles was just as wrapped around her finger as he was when she was born, and followed her to make sure she was alright.

These damn Leclerc's and their drama.

You rolled your eyes at your daughter's dramatics.

Yes, she was upset but Anthony had explained the whole situation in front of you, her and her father. While Anthony might look exactly like his man whore of a father, he was everything like his mother; a sweet, kind and fiercely loyal woman.

It broke your heart to see her upset but it also hurt you to see Anthony in the same state. You get up, hugging the boy as he sniffles, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

"She just needs some time to cool off, she's dramatic like her father." You tell him, trying to lighten the mood. You walk him to the kitchen, getting him some water.

He sat in the breakfast nook. "I swear I didn't even see her until she walked over, otherwise I would have walked the other way."

"I know babe, is this the same girl that stalked you after you broke up?"

"Yeah!" He groans, sipping his water. "She's so - ugh." He says, making you laugh. You kiss the top of his head, leaving him there for the time being as you put away what was supposed to be dinner. The food sat on the coffee table, cold and unattended.

The door opens again and you groan, praying it's not another issue but it wasn't; Sofia and Chris come stumbling in, clearly having consumed something other than ice cream.

"Mama!!" Chris grins, untangling his fingers from Sofia's as he walks over to you, kissing your cheek multiple times like he did when he was little - slobbering on your cheek as he did then too.

You laughed, smelling the booze on him. Steadying him, you held his waist. "Hi baby, you okay?"

"Soooo good," he tells you, wobbling over to Sofia, who was also drunk but more steady than your son. You watch as they go upstairs, the sound of the door opening and closing before you walk back to the kitchen.

Anthony still sat in the breakfast nook. "You want something to eat? Something else to drink?" You asked him, wiping your wet cheek off with a tissue.

It takes him a moment to respond. "You know when we were little and you'd cut the apples and make the little peanut butter sandwiches with the slices?" He asks and you nod.

"Want some?" You were already grabbing the apple, peanut butter and honey. Anthony smiles, nodding like he was a kid again.

You washed and cut the apples, spreading the peanut butter and honey on them, sandwiching them together and handing the plate to him. "Thank you," he says, sinking into his seat as he takes a bite of the familiar taste from his childhood.

"Mhm hm," you smiled, hearing the footsteps from behind you. Charles was coming down, kissing your temple as he picked up an extra piece of apple you had on the cutting board.

"Ellie just needs some time." He says, staring daggers at Anthony; if looks could kill.

You huffed, smacking the back of your husband's head. "Stop it, he feels bad enough as it is."

Another set of footsteps come from the hallway and you assume it's Christopher looking for something but then the sound of the front door slamming shut caught your attention. This house was like a free for all, everyone coming and going as they pleased - you made sure to make a mental note to see who had keys to this place.

In came Gabriel who was being held by his boyfriend, Oliver. The two of them were covered in blood and Gabriel had cuts and bruises all over his face.

"What the fuck? What happened?" You say, Charles rushing over to help Oliver sit Gabriel down on a chair.

"He's so fricking hot headed," Oliver says, holding his boyfriend up straight.

It was clear that Gabriel was beyond pissing drunk, the boy swaying unless someone was holding him. Anthony takes over for Oliver, holding Gabriel up as Oliver goes to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

"What happened?" Charles asks, passing you the cloth as you wiped the blood off your son's face. "I have no clue," you tell him, being extra careful not to hurt him; not like Gabriel would feel it anyways.

Oliver comes back a moment later, setting the kit on the counter and taking back his spot next to Gabriel.

"Ellie's asking for you, man." He tells Anthony, who glances at Charles before quietly making his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Before you could even ask, Oliver starts explaining the events of the night. "We met up with Georgina and Adrian at the club. We were all a little tipsy, and Georgina was trying to get a drink at the bar. Some guy came up behind her and he was getting all handsy, trying to touch her and Adrian was in the bathroom so he didn't see it happen, but Gabriel did and he stepped in." Oliver sighs, brushing his boyfriend's hair from his face.

"Basically, Gabriel told the guy to fuck off and said if he touched Georgina again that he would break his face. The guy took that as a sign to leave and once Adrian came back, the two of them decided that they were going to go get something to eat and just spend the rest of the night at home. But Gabriel being Gabriel, our night couldn't just end there of course."

You carefully patched up Gabriel, wiping his cuts clean and putting antibacterial ointment on what needed it , making sure he didn't need stitches or anything.

"The guy came back again a few minutes later. He was super drunk, as was Gabriel and you know how Gabe can be. They started fighting and next thing you know, they're beating the shit out of each other in the middle of the fucking club."

Oliver tells you the story, causing you to roll your eyes at your son's behaviour. You're proud of him for standing up for his friend but must he always get into a fight for stupid reasons?

"I tried to stop him but I forget how strong Gabriel is sometimes." He huffed and you looked at him, seeing the blood on him. "Are you okay?" You asked, moving over to check him.

"I'm fine," Oliver smiles. "It's Gabe's." He says, gesturing to the blood on his shirt.

Charles was making up the guest room downstairs while you patched Gabriel up. In his drunken state, you all knew he wouldn't be making it up the stairs. Your husband comes back to help Oliver get Gabriel into bed and you threw out the bloody mess that had developed on the counter.

You put the plates in the sink, tossing the garbage out and headed up to check on your oldest and youngest.

There were noises coming from Christoper's room and you figured it best not to investigate further. Eloise's door was open, you knock softly and peek in when you don't get an answer. Her head resting on Anthony's chest, the two of them cuddled up and fast asleep. Switching off the light, you pulled the door shut quietly and made your way back downstairs.

As you reach the bottom step, Charles appears from around the corner. He hugs you, squeezing you tightly.

"What?" you asked him, cupping his jaw.

"Our kids are insane," he tells you, sighing. You can't help the laugh, leaning down to kiss your husband. "Those are your genes."

Charles rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you behind him.

"Where are we going?" You asked, following him. He leads you to the car, opening the door for you to get in before getting in himself. It was a short drive and you two ended up on the pier, Charles parks the car and looks over at you.

"What?" You asked him again.

"Just wanted some alone time with my wife," he whispers, leaning over to kiss you. "I can't have that?"

"No," you shook your head, leaning in your seat to reach him. Charles smiles against your lips, as you melted into each other, lost in the moment.

With a soft smile and a lingering touch, you reluctantly pulled away with your cheeks as red as the first night he kissed you. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," he says, smiling. "Happy Valentine's Day babe."

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

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#daddy & me + three series #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #f1 series

565 notes · View notes

gureumz · 10 months

Text

grateful sinners

rating: explicit

member: jake

premise: growing up in a religious community (a cult?), you and your friend jake stumble upon "forbidden" media one day. of course, you know about sex but what the elders taught you was never this dirty. overcome with curiosity, you promise each other to never speak of what you're about to do to anyone.

notes: religious themes, implied cult behavior, slight (?) blasphemy, virgin!jake x virgin!reader, fem!reader, friends to lovers (?), first time, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, desperate touch-starved, jesus loving virgins tryna fuck

a/n: third of my 1k follower special! can you tell i have deep religious trauma? lmaoooo but this was rlly fun to write, if not a little tedious but i enjoyed it nonetheless! hope you do, too <3

the day was as beautiful as any other.

the early morning sun peeking behind the nearby hill, the smell of wet grass, the gentle breeze blowing through your hair.

you breathe in more of the valley air, letting your eyes close for a moment. everything is so still, hours and hours before the first worship of the day when the whole commune will surely come fully alive. at this moment, you're sure you're closer to God than ever.

a whispered prayer breaks the silence.

"i do not deserve such beauty before me, God," you mumble, eyes still closed. "but you are most merciful and i, a grateful sinner."

a silence, still. nothing or no one responds to your profession of gratitude, but that is to be expected. God works silently, as the elders say.

"i'm deciding if the beauty is on the horizon in front of us or in your face, ________," a voice breaks through, shattering the tranquil veil that envelops you.

you turn and you can't help the jolt in your chest. you grin widely and jake smiles back, hands in his pockets and his pants already soaked with morning dew from the grass.

"don't say that," you warn. "my mom might hear."

jake makes a show of looking around, gazing past you at the squat houses sitting peacefully without movement.

"i don't see her," jake says with a shrug. you laugh.

"you know how she hates it when people make light of God's word. your jokes are definitely her least favorite," you remind him, stepping closer.

jake eyes you. being noticeably taller and broader, it gives him the perfect view of your face as the dawn sun hits your delicate features.

his hair is messy, partly sticking to his forehead with the other half of his raven locks hanging over his eyes. you know his father would berate him for that. children of the pastor are expected to appear presentable in front of the whole commune as a way to honor God and his divine image.

but the commune is nowhere to be seen. it's just you looking.

and jake is used to you looking.

growing up together, with his mom and yours being close friends, your mother's unwavering devotion to the commune, and her undying support to jake's father's cause as pastor, it's no surprise that the two of you have been inseparable.

despite the clear division between the men and women of the commune, you and jake always found your way to each other. sneaking in glances, waving from afar before you start mass, and even despite your own mother's prudish ways, you know she felt at ease when jake was around you.

nothing has been said, but you're sure that when both of you reach the age of matrimony, you'd be wed to each other. you have to be.

"what are you doing out here so early?" you continue with a question, resisting the urge to toy with the wisps of hair on jake's temples.

you're forbidden to touch or be touched by any man that isn't your family. the only exception to this is his father, the pastor, free to lay his healing hands upon anyone he deems in need of it.

jake parts his lips to answer but pauses, as if choosing the appropriate thing to say.

"some of my friends and i wanted to hang out by the river," jake supplies, gesturing toward the general direction of the river just beyond the hill.

"doing what?" you ask. the men are usually tasked with heavy farm work in the morning. in your mind, a leisurely stroll by the river before all that labor seemed hardly reasonable.

jake hesitates again, now toying with his bottom lip, the plump, rosy skin growing even redder with every pinch jake delivers to it.

"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," you say, flashing jake a reassuring smile.

"i'm not lying," jake replies almost instantly, a nervous spark in his eyes. "we really were by the river. we were...looking at something."

you cock your head to the side. jake comes even closer and the hairs on your arm stand on end, the faint scent of jake's sweat and soap reaching your nose. if you reach out now, you could easily wrap both arms around him, pull him close, and never let go.

"jay's dad brings our harvest to the nearby city market, right? well, jay went with him yesterday and he nicked this...book or something from the gas station," jake rambles, fidgeting with his fingers.

your eyes widen.

"it was glossy and the pages smelled nice. we don't have those kinds of books here, don't we?" jake continues, but your ears have started ringing in alarm.

"jay stole? jake, you know he needs to confess and repent," you whisper, taken aback.

jake gives you a look and you nearly tremble at the intensity in his irises. without warning, jake lets his fingertips graze your arm, instantly pulling away right after. you flinch, cradling your arm against your chest as if you've been burned.

"it's wrong, i know, but...haven't you thought of breaking the rules, even once? some of the people here talk about all the exciting things they've seen or done before, all because they broke one small rule. do you ever stop to think that it could be...fun?" jake questions, voice low. his eyes are wide and shaking, darting to and fro as if committing your whole face to memory.

"i—," you begin, unsure of what to say. you have thought of asking, even begging your mom to let you out into the city for one day. to see all the outsiders and their strange clothes and loud music.

but you could never go through with it. your mom would tell the pastor of your sinful curiosity the minute the words would leave your mouth.

"stealing is not breaking one small rule," you protest.

jake huffs out a breath. "aren't you tired of all of this? all of this forbidden stuff?"

you shake your head, trying to wrap your head around the words coming out of jake's mouth.

"your father's the pastor, jake," you say, voice trembling. "how could you..."

"the book had these pictures," jake cuts in, voice picking up as if it excited him to recount what he saw.

"the women in the book...they were naked."

you take a step back, clamping a hand down on your mouth.

"jake, what's gotten into you?" you question, heart beating wildly.

"i just want to know about the outside world, ________," jake reasons, running a hand through his hair.

"it's not as bad as the elders make it out to be," jake continues. "i haven't burst into flames, have i?"

you merely stare, uneasy at how blatant jake is about his sinful acts.

"do you want to see? i could borrow it from jay," jake offers, voice dropping to an even quieter whisper.

you stand there, a million different thoughts running through you. in all honesty, you wanted to take a look, never having seen any naked body other than your own. but even now, knowing that she was nowhere near, you could feel your mother's burning gaze on you. disappointed, intimidating, warning you to be a good child of God or face the wrath of hell.

you know this is wrong, or so you've been told. jake is treading a dangerous path and he seems adamant on roping you along. and yet...

"yes," you answer before you could stop yourself.

"b-but wait! how are you going to show me? we have to be careful," you hurriedly add, glancing around in case anyone was near enough to hear the atrocities you and jake are talking about.

"there's a secret back room in one of the barns. i go there to rest during breaks or after work and no one else ever goes there," jake hurriedly says, crowding back into your personal space. you notice the slight shake in his hands and the way his ears redden.

"o-okay," you say with a nod. "when?"

"later tonight," jake offers.

"during supper, we can sneak out while everyone else eats," jake continues. you feel his fingers on your arm again and this time, jake lets his whole hand flatten against the sleeve of your dress, his warmth seeping down to your skin.

you gasp, but stay frozen. jake's other hand lays on your waist and you shake uncontrollably, both terrified and excited at the prospect of jake touching you.

jake pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours. he's breathing just as hard as you.

"you know, i thought about...if you would look the same as the women in the book," jake murmurs, eyes closed.

you shiver. you should be appalled, disgusted by how jake is acting now, but all you feel is a warm, bubbling feeling in your abdomen and an insatiable itch to clutch at jake's clothes.

"jake, we can't—," you begin, but the deep toll of the church bell interrupts you, signaling the start of the day.

you and jake spring apart, knowing that the whole commune would be outside in a matter of minutes, heading off to their designated duties for the day.

before you could get another word in, jake rushes forward, kissing you. you gasp, but as if on instinct, your hands grasp at his face. a second later, you thread your fingers through his hair, the strands offering little resistance as you gently tug, just as you've always dreamed of doing. but as quickly as it started, jake pulls away, pushing you back at the same time.

"tonight," jake breathes out, walking backward. "at dinner. the last barn to the left."

you nod once, pausing for a moment as you watch jake tread further away from you. you wave before sprinting toward your house.

your mother would be in the kitchen. you would be assigned with peeling the oranges. or cooking the eggs. or buttering the toast.

to you, at this moment, it didn't really matter.

all your eyes could see, all your heart could feel is jake.

---

dinner was a tense affair.

your mom questioned your uncharacteristic early start this morning, and all you could do was supply a pathetic lie about wanting to see the rose garden started by some of the older women in the commune.

she made a point to warn you to be on time for dinner. you felt an uneasiness settle in your stomach at this, thinking of all the ways your and jake's plan could go wrong.

but rushing out of the mess hall now, legs pumping as you dash through the field toward the barns, all of your worries melt away.

you remember the kiss, jake's fingers digging into your side, his smooth hair in between your fingers.

having separate dining halls for the men and women, you weren't sure when jake would be there, but you decided you had to leave as soon as you can. you feigned a stomachache to your mother, excusing yourself to the bathroom.

you knew this was yet another lame excuse, but you went the rest of the day without seeing jake. you were subjected to teach the younger ones about scripture today at the school, but all you wanted was to feel jake again. to see him. to touch him.

you slow down as you approach the barns, jogging over to the last one to the left. your breathing is heavy, beads of sweat collecting on your forehead. another shiver of excitement goes through you as you push the barn door open.

the barn is one of the unused ones, a single light turned on at the very back. you walk toward the dim bulb, the glass-encased fluorescent hanging precariously by a thin wire.

you realize quite belatedly that jake never gave any specifics on how to find the secret room. but just then, you hear a faint shuffle to your left. despite the darkness, you can make out the faint outline of a head peeking out from behind a stack of hay.

"jake," you whisper, crossing the space between you in long strides.

jake emerges from the shadows, an easy smile on his face.

"it's back here," jake ushers you behind the tower of hay, his hand easily finding yours. "hurry, before anyone sees us."

you tighten your grip on jake's hand, the same feeling of exhilaration building up within you. you watch as jake approaches the section of the wall that's hidden behind the hay, pulling open a flimsy door that's half your height, cleverly disguised as part of the wall. inside, you can barely make out the soft flickering of candlelight.

jake nudges you forward. "it's a tight squeeze but it's comfortable enough inside."

you crouch, laying your hands on the dirt floor to steady yourself. you scurry forward through the door and emerge on the other side.

the space inside the room is enough for two, tall enough for you to stand in. you straighten up, dusting yourself off. jake follows inside, shutting the door behind him.

you look around and spot a metal box in one corner next to the single candle burning. a blanket is spread out on the ground.

"here," jake says, pulling you gently towards the blanket. you sit down, perching yourself right across jake.

jake takes hold of the metal box, unlatching the lid. inside, you can see a number of trinkets and other objects.

"are those...cigarettes?" you ask in disbelief. jake chuckles, brandishing the red and white box.

"found them in dad's safe," jake replies nonchalantly. "this one, too."

jake holds up a glossy rectangle, flipping it so it faces you. you let out an audible gasp.

"a phone? but we're not allowed phones," you say, letting jake place the device on your palm.

"i know. but that's my dad's. you know how the elders are the only ones allowed phones. so, i took his." jake is grinning now, the candlelight casting sharp shadows across his handsome face.

"but, how? doesn't he notice? what's in it?" you rattle off, turning the phone over in your hands.

"i bring it back every night once i'm done exploring what's inside," jake explains. he reaches over, pressing a button on its side. a moment later, it lights up, momentarily blinding you with how close you're holding it to your face.

you stare in awe as the screen comes alive. it dims after it fully turns on, displaying in big, blocky letters the time of night.

6:51

supper would be over soon.

jake takes the phone from you, setting it down on the blanket between you two.

"we can look at that later," jake reassures. "i got the book from jay at lunch today."

you swallow as jake pulls out the book from the very bottom of the box. jake moves the candle closer and your eyes instantly go wide.

the front of the book is glossy, indeed, just like jake said it would be. but the woman pictured on it seemed too lifelike, as if she wasn't merely printed on paper. her tan skin is on full display, with nothing covering her body but a bathing suit, one you've seen outsiders wear the few times you've seen pictures of them.

the bathing suit is black, the neckline going down almost to her stomach. you see the side of her breasts peek out from the garment holding it in place, and from what you can see, her whole back seems to be bare.

your eyes drift down to her crotch, covered by a thin strip of fabric. she stands, legs apart, her hands on her waist, baring her entire naked body to the world.

the longer you stare, the hotter you feel. an ache between your legs starts to make itself known.

"there's even more inside," jake whispers, sidling up to you. he presses his shoulder against yours as he reaches over to flip the book open.

your eyes scan the text on the next page, coming across a word you don't hear or see often.

"magazine," you mumble. a memory pings in your head.

"mom told me about magazines. this is a magazine," you say in mild amazement. "she says they're full of lies and are forbidden in the commune."

"magazine," jake repeats, drawing out the word slowly. he flips through more pages, stopping at one with a woman pushing her naked chest out.

your heartbeat quickens. you trace your finger over the picture, passing over the image of her plump breast, perky with a pinkish hue around the nipple.

you recall the science classes at the school. the teacher had recited the parts of the woman's body in a flat, monotonous voice. nipple. areola. vagina. cervix. she drilled it in everyone's head that these parts are not to be said aloud outside of the classroom.

"mine doesn't look like that," you comment absentmindedly. "they're not as...round."

you look up to see jake staring intently at you. his eyes drift down to your chest and you feel a new wave of heat wash over you.

jake licks his lips as he shifts closer, and as if compelled by his own actions, you do the same, facing jake fully.

you touch the buttons on the front of your dress.

you know what you're about to say and do next is beyond sinful. but you've already crossed the line the second you laid your eyes upon the magazine. a strange desire bubbles up inside you.

"do you want to see?" you ask quietly, watching jake's expression carefully.

"can i?" jake asks back, peering into your eyes. you can smell him again, faint lavender adding to the mix of his scent. you imagine jake in the bath, naked, water and bubbles washing over his skin.

you shudder involuntarily.

"yes," you breathe out.

you start to undo your dress, hands shaking. you've never done this before. you're forbidden to. you know God watches you now with disdainful eyes, but you can hardly find it in you to care.

you undo the last button, pulling the sleeves of your dress down and off your arms. the night is chilly and you shiver as the air meets your skin.

unmarried women in the commune are advised not to wear bras as they are still considered pure and innocent and in no need of such womanly garments.

so you sit, barechested in front of jake, shaking in the cold, in anticipation, in mild fear.

jake's jaw goes slack, taking in the image in front of him. he glances back at the magazine before returning his gaze to your own breasts. you resist the urge to cross your arms.

instead, you reach over, delicate fingers wrapping around jake's wrists. you guide them up, stopping right above your waiting chest.

"here," you whisper, but your voice sounds strangely loud in the silence of the night. "touch me, jake,"

you place his hands over your mounds and you gasp at the abrupt warmth. jake chews on his lip, fingers softly kneading your skin.

"do you touch yourself like this?" jake asks, eyes still wide in amazement and curiosity. he gives a light squeeze and you whimper, covering your mouth to stop yourself from crying out.

"sometimes," you say, voice slightly muffled behind your palm. "in the bath. when no one's looking."

jake exhales, pulling his hands back momentarily. he lines his pointer finger with your nipples, flicking up experimentally. you groan, throwing your head back.

"it feels good," you breathe out. "jake, it feels good all over."

jake pinches your nipples and you yelp, falling forward against jake. he catches you, cradling you to his chest. you breathe onto his neck, a warm stickiness pooling under your skirt.

"touch me, too," jake says right in your ear. he guides your hand on his crotch and your fingers curl around something stiff.

"please," jake implores, voice high and almost whining.

you watch in fascination as jake strains against his trousers. you caress up and down, feeling him harden even more under your touch. jake squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"sit over me," jake commands, pulling you onto his lap. there's a loud roaring in your ears as something overtakes your body completely.

"keep touching me and i'll do the same," jake instructs, returning his hands to your chest. he curls his fingers into your flesh and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

you take ahold of jake through his pants, squeezing and rubbing. jake is bucking into your hand, small breaths escaping his lips.

your head is spinning, your cheeks are flushed, and a faint guilt tugs at your chest. but you've thrown all care out the window, the only thing on your mind being jake's rough fingers tugging and pinching and grabbing at your breasts.

the bubble of heat in this little room breaks when you hear the dark notes of the church bell ringing, marking the end of supper.

you gasp, pulling away from jake as he does the same. you hurriedly button up your dress, trying to calm your breathing. jake gathers the things strewn on the floor, tossing them back into his box.

you stand, smoothing down your dress and tucking your hair back behind your ear. no words are spoken as jake blows the candle out, pushing the door open to free both of you.

you scramble out of the small space, heart still pumping wildly against your chest. you feel jake's hand rest on one side of your face, urging you to look at him.

"meet me by the river early tomorrow," jake says, now holding your face with both hands.

you blink, unsure of what to say. the rush of blood is still loud in your ears and all you want is for jake to touch you again. to keep touching you.

to touch you forever.

"please," jake adds, running his thumb over your bottom lip. you quiver at the action, stilling only when you feel him press his lips against yours.

your lips part and so does his, and as if guided by something else, your tongues move into each other's mouths, licking and sucking and breathing into and from each other.

you feel dirty, sinful even. but you start to wonder why you cared so much in the first place.

"tomorrow," jake repeats, pulling away.

the bells toll even louder. you run out of the barn without a second thought, eyes dancing with excitement, lips tender, and one single button of your dress undone.

---

you toss and turn all night.

flashes of jake invade your mind, pulling you out of sleep just as you feel yourself drifting. the way he breathed against your face. the stiffness in your hand. the pleading in his voice.

you prayed, too. prayed to God for forgiveness, for mercy. but you prayed for jake, too. to feel his lips again, to have his hands on other parts of your body.

you cry, quietly and pathetically, ashamed in the face of God. ashamed because the arousal hasn't left you. it burns almost painfully and you wish and you pray and you beg for morning to come.

you glance at the clock next to your bed and see that it's half past five a.m. you ran into jake at six yesterday, so he should be at the river by now if you're to go off of that.

you quickly dress yourself, careful to keep your movements precise and quick so as to not wake anyone in your house.

you practically float down the stairs on your toes, nimbly avoiding all the loose floorboards you know would make a sound.

you steal one glance back inside your house before taking off. you walk at first, trying to calm your nerves, but you build up to a run once you pass through the fence's gate, feeling the morning air whipping at your face.

the climb up the hill, usually a strenuous effort on your end, seems like nothing on this day, your legs taking you over it in no time.

you can see the river now, and you see the faraway figure of someone hunched over, sitting on the riverbank. excitement rips through you and you're running, running faster than you've ever had.

jake hears you before he sees you, your breathing loud and labored and your boots stomping against the wet grass. he turns to see you slowing down to a jog as you approach him.

he stands, wordlessly meeting you as you sink into his arms.

you kiss and the roar of desire is back, a single flame flickering in the blue-hued, early-morning world that surrounds you.

jake pulls you towards an area behind a large tree, and you see that the same blanket from last night is laid out on the grass. without parting your lips, jake pulls you down with him on the spread-out cloth, laying you down.

"i watched things on dad's phone last night," jake admits, kissing your jaw. you squirm underneath him, his lips sending a ticklish sensation over you.

"i watched people do it," jake murmurs against your skin, lips dragging down your neck.

"i watched them make love."

you pull jake away from where he's kissing you behind your ear, a questioning look on your face.

"you can...watch people make love? on the phone?" you ask meekly, trying to understand how some people can let such a sacred act be seen by anyone other than themselves and God.

jake nods, hands smoothing up your sides. "yes. and they do it so loudly, so roughly, so vulgarly. not like how we're taught."

you stare, wide-eyed. "what?"

"they curse a lot," jake adds. "and they call on God's name so much. we're told to never do that unless in praise."

your breath hitches when you feel jake smooth his hands over your clothed chest. you feel your nipples stiffen under his touch.

"what if it felt so good to them, they needed to call on God?" you whisper. jake ponders on this for a moment, eyes scanning over your face.

"i want to feel as good as them," jake finally says. he starts to undo your dress, the same way you did last night.

"we're going to...to make love?" you ask as jake slots himself between your legs. you feel the same stiffness from last night press up against your thigh.

"please," jake responds, pulling your dress open. your nipples are taut, begging to be touched.

jake dips his head down, latching his mouth onto one of your nubs, sending your whole body spasming. you moan, a new kind of pleasure coursing through your veins. jake presses his hips onto yours, right between your legs and you nearly cry at how good the pressure feels.

you push your core against jake's own crotch, swiveling your hips around trying to find the delicious friction you felt.

"i want to, please. i want to, so bad," jake pleads against your chest.

jake bunches your skirt around your torso, exposing your lower half and the thin, white, commune-approved underwear you have.

"please," you whine, not even sure of what you're saying.

"me, too. make love to me, jake."

jake groans, sitting upright, hands already tugging at his belt. he undoes the buckle, unzipping his pants before pulling the garments down to his thighs.

you stare half in awe and half in curiosity as jake strokes himself a few times. a clear liquid spills from the tip and you feel your mouth involuntarily water.

"can i take this off?" jake asks, hooking a finger under the hem of your underwear. you nod, cringing slightly as you feel the sticky fabric pull away from your skin as jake discards of it.

"it's so wet," jake observes, reaching down to run a finger between your folds.

"ngh!" you cry out, twitching at the sudden contact. no one has ever touched you down there. you've never touched yourself down there other than to wash.

jake presses the pads of his fingers against your core, rubbing lightly. you throw your head back, thighs already shaking.

"does this feel good?" jake asks, pressing down harder. you nod again, unable to form any coherent thoughts or sentences.

"i saw that they did this," jake says before plunging a finger into your hole.

stars burst right before your eyes when you feel jake push his thick digit into you. the feeling is foreign, a weird pressure but pleasurable nonetheless.

jake pumps it in and out of you, observing your face as he does so. you open your eyes to meet his and you see jake's pupils blown wide, his whole face a light tint of pink.

"still good?" jake asks.

"yes," you gasp, your hips pushing off the ground as you try to chase more of this feeling.

"some of them...," jake begins, pausing his movements. you start to protest but your voice gets caught in your throat when you feel jake push in another finger.

"...use two."

a slight burn at the added stretch makes you wince, your hand coming down to grab jake's wrist.

"s-slowly," you supply, opening your legs wider. jake nods in understanding, moving his fingers at a gentler pace.

you mewl, feeling the drag of his knuckles against your inner walls. you're dizzy with pleasure, overwhelmed with the thought that something could feel this good.

"it keeps coming out of you," jake says in awe. "you're getting even wetter."

"it feels so good," you gasp. "jake, please."

"what should i do?" jake asks, leaning over you. you look up, jake's face right in front of yours. not knowing what else to do, you pull him down to you in a kiss.

jake moans against your lips, speeding up his movements in and out of you. you cry into the kiss, never wanting this feeling to end.

"i-i'll put it in," jake whispers into your mouth.

jake pulls his fingers out of you and you fight the instinct to whine. jake sits back on his heels, watching as you clench around nothing.

you see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of your dripping core, his hand coming down to pump at his shaft.

"it might hurt," jake warns. "that's what they told us."

you smile weakly. "us, too."

jake grins back at you, scooting forward to line himself up with you. jake presses the tip against your hole, watching for your reaction. he slides a little more in, and you let out a squeak.

"it's much bigger than your fingers," you say, with slight panic in your voice.

"i'm here," jake says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "you'll be okay."

you feel jake push in some more and your whole body jerks in surprise. tears prickle your eyes but you focus on evening out your breathing. underneath the evident sting, a steady throb of pleasure beats down in your core.

"it feels so warm," jake gasps out. "God help me."

jake sinks all the way in, unable to contain himself, and you bite down hard on your lip, feeling jake deep in you. you're afraid to move in case it starts to hurt more.

"f-fuck," jake curses, hips pulling back before sinking all the way in again. you cover your mouth with both hands, unsure of all the feelings you're having at the moment.

"i'm sorry," jake whispers, kissing your cheek, then your nose, then both of your eyes. "i-it feels too good."

"it's okay," you reply, trying to contain the tremor in your voice. "keep going. it feels better now."

and it does. the more jake moves, the more you could relax. jake hits a spot inside you that completely overrides the nearly unbearable stretch and it takes everything in you not to double over in surprise.

"again," you say. "just like that."

jake stops for a moment before repeating the angle in which he thrusted in you.

there it is again. a jolt of electricity goes through your abdomen and you shudder in delight.

"yes!" you cry out. "m-more."

jake picks up his speed, careful to keep it the same way you like it. it's as if the gates of heaven themselves have opened, showing you a world of pleasure you've never seen or experienced before.

the stretch has dulled now, and the fullness you feel adds to the coil in your stomach, tighter and tighter with each thrust.

you wrap your legs around jake's waist, wanting him, needing him closer.

jake lays himself over you, his chest pressed to yours, his hips moving nonstop. you've started to meet his movements, chasing something you're not quite sure exactly what.

"it does feel good," you manage to say between moans. "so good."

jake pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you.

"have you ever finished before?" jake questions. your eyebrows pinch together and you shake your head. jake slows down, grinding into you shallowly.

"finished?" you repeat.

"yeah, when you pleasure yourself, you finish," jake recounts. you shake your head again.

"we're not allowed to, remember? i've never touched myself that way," you admit bashfully.

"it's okay," jake reassures, kissing you softly. "you'll feel it here."

jake lays a hand on your lower abdomen, pressing down. you inhale, fingernails digging into jake's shoulder.

"move faster," you request. "but keep pressing there."

jake looks at you in bewilderment but follows nonetheless. he picks up his pace again, still keeping his hand on your stomach. you feel a pressure build up where jake is pressing and you feel your whole body shake.

"you're getting tighter," jake says through gritted teeth, trying to maintain his movements.

"s-sorry, feels too good," you apologize.

"i think i feel it," you add. "keep going, please."

this sends jake into a frenzy, hips snapping at a speed you can't keep up with. you let out a sob as you feel your entire being ignite with every push of jake's shaft in you.

"i can feel myself," jake points out. "i can feel myself through your belly, God."

the words confuse you but you look down to see jake protruding through your lower abdomen with every thrust. the sight sends your brain into overdrive and you moan your loudest as a white-hot current rips through you.

you vaguely hear jake groan as he roughly grabs your hips, keeping you in place. he pumps in and out of you a few more times before stopping. you continue to swivel your hips, squirming at the strange sensation that's taking over your body.

eventually, you relax, feeling strangely peaceful. you feel lightheaded but in the best way, as if you're floating on clouds.

jake grunts, pulling himself out of you. the sensation makes you cringe and you feel something drip out between your legs.

"is that—is that your seed?" you ask in mild disbelief, though still too out of it to care much.

"yeah," jake says, nodding, collecting the drops of himself that spilled out before poking his finger back in you.

"jake!" you protest, still much too sesitive.

jake pulls his finger out and grins at you. he settles beside you, pulling you onto his chest.

---

the church bell tolls not long after.

the early morning sun rises above the tree line, and if you were to stand on the other side of the hill, you would have watched the orange glow with amazement and bated breath.

there's a breeze that blows through your messy hair and the smell of morning dew on the grass is mixed with jake's lavender soap.

breathing in the valley air, another prayer falls quietly from your lips.

"we do not deserve your forgiveness," you say . "but you are most merciful and we, are merely grateful sinners."

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #jake smut #jake scenarios #w: jake

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wyvernest · 4 months

Text

open arms | fantasy AU

pairing: witcher*!miguel x f!reader

> In Sapkowski's works, "witchers*" are beast hunters who are given supernatural abilities at a young age to battle wild beasts and monsters.

warnings: smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected piv, cowgirl & a bit of missionary, mentions of possible infidelity, slight angst at the end? very slight

summary: miguel returns to the reader after months of wandering the Continent, and she welcomes him with open arms

Every time you hear a horse trotting on the stone-streets of the village, your heart flutters wildly in your chest. Maybe it's him.

Only most of the time, it isn't. It's always just a soldier or a tradesman.

No. His arrival is incomparable . When it's him, the whole village echoes with the deep, steady sounds of his horse's galloping. He never slows down, until he reaches the very wooden gates of the settlement. Comes by with a storm, a strong gust that then leaves as swiftly as it arrived.

And sometimes, you almost wish another monster would start terrorizing the village. Nothing too perilous, of course, but grave enough so that the guards wouldn't try to take care of it. So that they'd wait for a Witcher.

But alas, it stays a dream. He has for sure found some other fairer maiden in the south. Yet you're still here, unwed and long-time devoted to such a cold hearted man.

But how can a cold heart hold you so? How can it make you feel so warm, so adored? Must be some kind of sorcery.

And despite your unfruitful attempts to forget the hunter, on one gloomy evening, you couldn't help but jolt to your window at yet another horse clanking its hoofs on the pavement.

Your heart races. A cloaked man. You can't see his face, but his stature is very telling. It can't be him. He gets off his horse. He enters the tavern across the road.

You release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding in your chest, mentally slapping yourself for running to see who it is so hastily. You'd almost want to smack him for all the cold months he's made you endure without him, without a single word from him.

But you can't. Whatever’s holding your hand back is stronger than any pale vengeance, it's what made you rush to your window, what now made you run to your bedchamber to pick and choose your prettiest outfit.

It's nearing midnight when you hear a confident knock on your door. Formalities. He knows he could kick the whole frame down in all courtesy and you'd still jump in his arms.

You try to act surprised.

“Miguel!” You tear yourself away from your working table, just for a second before stopping in your tracks.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? And he's come to grace you with the very news of it?

He rushes to you instead; one, two strides and he's across the room with his arms around you. Not with a teary, hearty expression, but with the desperate, deep sigh of a man who had finally filled his lungs with fresh air after being buried in ice cold waters for years.

“I've missed you, I-”

You wanted to go on about how you were first afraid he'd found someone else, then how that fear turned into an image of him falling in battle, but he stopped you.

With his face in his big, warm hands, his lips meet yours in an almost barbaric kiss. If you hadn't had him in other ways before, you'd swear he was a man starved. But you're aware of how patient he can be. Sometimes.

He tries not to break it, but it's slightly difficult with his left hand now down your back and his right clutching your prettiest skirts to the back of your thighs as he lifts you up with nearly frightening ease.

His steps almost shake wooden floorboards of the house as he enters the bedroom, with you glued to his chest.

Your hands are running through his hair, a feeling you've missed so ardently. Your palms, with nothing but the memory of his soft, raven strands in them, used to feel as if whipped with burning lashes, where loving his touch had been.

“I need to have you. Let me have you,” He speaks in your face, his voice dripping with a roughness you've only ever heard from him after a hard won fight, tired yet still potent.

In response, you start twisting your delicate fingers into his collar, as if you could simply drag the garments down from him. Not before a scorching heat blazes in his eyes at your acceptance, he places you on the soft mattress and starts ridding himself of his armor. Pretty light one, you mentally note. Bastard, he knew he'd be coming to see me. Came half ready.

As his tanned body starts coming to the warm light of candles, you study his form. He had changed. His shoulders are bigger, his arms are thicker. As a whole, he looks stronger. Your panties soak at the sight.

He sits on the bed and places you on his lap, pleased with himself, and you suddenly feel as meek and shy as you were the first time he had you.

You feel him heat up beneath you as your lips explore each other in the most tender yet passionate dance you never thought you would need the same way you need air.

The softest of moans echoes in your throat, encouraging him to push your thighs apart over his groin. Hot palms run over your middle to the swell of your ass and back to your shoulders.

The hardening bulge in his pants brushes onto your bare, glistening pussy, and he feels your slickness through the thin material.

You try to take the reins with kisses on his cheeks and neck while slowly grinding on his crotch. He can't help but send a rough smack on your ass, smirking at your surprised yelp.

“I like having you all over me like this.” he admits as you drop your weight on him, no longer supported by your elbows, relying on gravity itself to mould you together the best it can, two desperate lovers mangled into each other’s limbs like roses sprouting upon the same rod.

A faint smile blooms its way onto his lips, his heavy-lidded, crimson eyes inescapably drunk on you. He’s looking at you like you’re his very heart and soul, the last slither of hope for life in a place filled with nothing but death. A reminder for him that his hands were not only meant to break necks and bathe in blood, but to love and hold you, so dearly, so perfectly.

Heart swelling with joy and sincere infatuation, you seal your lips with his, urged by an uncontrollable impulse to taste him as if he’s the oxygen you need to breathe. His lips feel soft and tender as they move against yours, hands naturally snaking to cup his face and hold him in the dearest way you can.

The moment you break away you feel utterly intoxicated. His now rock-hard dick nudges at your pulsing cunt, begging for your attention.

Lifting yourself from him and untangling his sturdy arms from around your waist, you lower your dripping cunt onto his still clothed erection, anchored with a knee on each side of his ample thighs. He watches closely, hypnotised by the way you begin rubbing yourself onto him, the outline of his cock grazing back and forth between your folds without entering you.

He fails to restrain a grunt which you can only mirror with a whine of your own as his dick twitches against your clit, your legs nearly abandoning you at the memory of the orgasms he fucked out of you on the other nights, when he came banging on your door less tired.

Something downright filthy about the picture stirs you further, driving you to submit yourself to his pleasure completely.

He grabs at your hips, guiding their sway, making little to no effort to claim you, having you simply dry hump him for sport while he’s comfortably laying back on the soft cushion.

That only until he finally deems your performance enough to satisfy him, and twists you around, fucking you into his mattress until you're soaked in his come, you imagine.

You grind against him at an idle pace, rising and falling onto his raging boner, beads of precome already staining his pants where his tip presses against its confinement. Placing your hands on his navel, you feel his feverish skin and the trail of coarse hair that disappears below the waistband.

The featherlight touch of your fingers slipping underneath his shirt makes him dizzy and unbearably needy. You start rocking your hips back and forth over the length of his hard cock, using his firm abdomen for support.

His eyes follow your movements, the languid strokes of your hips and the soft bounce of your tits underneath your night dress.

Warm, large hands creep up your sides, skating beyond the dip of your middle and up beneath the cotton of your one and only piece of clothing.

His palms tense just below your heaving breasts, their touch unbelievably addictive. You automatically arch your back to lean closer to him, wordlessly imploring him to put an end to his teasing.

“Take it off, 'wanna see your tits.” his eyes motioning for you to undress and throw the garments anywhere across the room. You feel your face heat up and cunt clench at his bold request.

Without any protest you comply, managing not to halt your grinding while your arms cross over head, disposing of the top while missing the way his pupils expand at the sight.

His hands latch onto your breasts accompanied by a hitched breath of yours, fondling and squeezing them together, veins bulging in his massive arms.

Right when you try applying a tad more pressure onto his leaking cock he grunts, signaling you to carry on just like that. You abuse the newfound weakness, glancing down only to be met with the broad head inching out of his pants with every drive of your hips. It twitches into the snug warmth of your damp folds, a telltale warning that he's close.

You speed up, confident that you may finally witness his climax without the drowning haze of your own. The dream swiftly dissolves into euphoria as he grabs your waist, swiftly switching positions and getting on top of you.

He enters you harshly, and his thrusts are furious. He doesn't need much more to reach his end, as he guides you into raw, carnal bliss, the girth of his dick spasming along your damp pussy adding to the tightening knot in your womb.

The frail bed creaks and trembles under his force, as his head comes down to nestle in the crook of your neck, his whole body nearly veiling you completely.

He comes with a thunderous groan, kissing your neck with tender, wet lips before slipping out and letting himself fall back lazily on the bed.

You're quick to nestle yourself beside him, head on his heaving chest.

“I've missed you.” he rasps, ever so slightly gasping for air.

“Where have you been?” you speak softly, yet you accentuate the question by running your hand over his toned chest, then up by his jaw, hoping it'll break him.

“Everywhere I was needed.” he takes in a deep breath, “Everywhere but here.”

You chuckle, tightening your embrace, as much as you can. Even though you're well aware the whole town will probably throw you dirty looks for months after seeing him yet again enter your house at the hour of the wolf, you didn't care.

You even found it in yourself to feel lucky with his visits. With him. You hadn't given yourself to any other man in town, other than him. But he wasn't from here. And that made him burst with pride.

“You sure you haven't been messing around while I was gone? Am I gonna have to fight a godless bastard for your hand?”

“Have you been messing around?” you ask, with pleading eyes, glistening in the low light. He looks down at you.

“I might have gotten a bit lonely at times.” He jokes, and although something stings you harshly at the thought, you decide to trust him. Miguel was many things, but a dishonorable man wasn't one of them.

You playfully push him away, just an excuse to feel the meaty muscles of his arm and stomach in the process. As if you needed an excuse.

"I'd fight any witless whoreson if it meant having you for myself properly."

You fall into slumber soundly, lulled by the soft yet raspy sound of his voice, whispering sweet nothings to you about all the things he would do, if only he wasn't bound by his lifelong duty.

I WANNA WRITE MORE WITH THIS CROSSOVER ‼️‼️

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miupow · 3 months

Text

ᴄʀᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ★ ᴄ.ʏᴊ

❝Your blood sucking boyfriend needs you bad, and he doesn't care how late it is.❞

PAIRING: vampire!choi yeonjun x fem!reader RATING: NSFW, MDNI! WARNINGS: smut, established relationship, vampire au, soft dom!yeonjun, soft sex, blood mention/blood sucking, vampire venom mention (kind of works like an aphrodisiac?), breast/nipple play, vaginal fingering, begging, dirty talk, like the smallest hint of anal (f. rec), praise kink, sickly sweet pet names WORDS: 1.3k A/N: this is a repost from my old account! originally written for my halloween event.

TAGLIST: @wintertxt, @boba-beom, @wolfytae-exe, @takemehye, @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi, @numxra, @soobinsbuns, @taegimood, @jeniihss, @soobabby, @hhoneylix

You're just on the verge of falling asleep when you feel strong arms wrap tight around your waist, the bed dipping to accommodate your boyfriend sliding into bed behind you. His bare chest presses up snug against your back, skin cold as ice, and you shiver when he leans his head down to press chaste kisses against your shoulder.

“I’m hungry,” Yeonjun whines in your ear, voice breathy and tight— you can feel his sharp canines graze your skin as he talks, his hips bump up against the swell of your ass; you can feel the weight of his cock through your thin nightgown like there was nothing but skin, stiff and twitching… so it was going to be one of those nights. “Need you bad, baby..”

“But Jjunie, I was sleeping,” You whine back, petulant, trying to ignore the heat collecting in your belly. Your boyfriend always had such terrible timing.

“Mmm, don’t care~” Yeonjun coos, drags his teeth across your shoulder again, this time letting it catch on the strap of your nightgown, drag it down your arm. The side of your gown falls, exposing one of your tits, and Yeonjun is quick to cup it in his palm, pinch your nipple in between his index finger and thumb. “I'm starving, need you now… I can hear your heartbeat, my princess, I know you need me too~~”

He tugs hard on your nipple, makes your breath hitch, hips grind down, heart skip— he heard it, you could tell, with how he chuckles smugly into the crook of your neck. “Smells so good..” he moans, nose burrowing further, begging for you to bear your neck to him— you do so without a fight, relish in the way he sucks in a breath, inhales your scent deeply. “Always taste so good, too… Please, just a bite…”

You grit your teeth, prepared for the bite, but it never comes— instead Yeonjun licks a fat stripe up your neck with the flat of his tongue, nasty and lewd and leaving a wet trail that stings in the cool air. He finishes just under your ear, and you can nearly hear his smirk as he ghosts his canines across your skin, pretty pouty lips sucking a dark purple bruise. You gasp, bare more of your neck, twist in Yeonjun's strong embrace; your hips rock harder, faster together, sheer fabric of your nightgown wet with Yeonjun's precum and slowly riding up your thighs from the friction.

“Touch me,” you beg in a whisper, drenched panties sticking to your core. Yeonjun chuckles deep in his chest.

“Let me feed,” he twists your nipple one last time, letting go to trail his hand slow down your stomach to meet the lacy hem of your gown. He always knew exactly what card to play to get you to give in.

“Fuck, fine, okay, just make it quick--” you plead, mostly for your own sanity— you could feel Yeonjun grin against your neck, hardly giving you any time to prepare before he bore his sharp fangs into you.

“shit!” you hiss from the pain; no matter how many times you let Yeonjun feed from you, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sting and the burn from his bites. He's quick to apologize, his fingers finally coming to rest on your covered clit. He rubs a few gentle circles, fast and precise, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, and finally, finally the searing pain of his teeth is drowned out by the euphoria of his venom.

You feel hot, burning, Yeonjun's cold tongue and breath doing nothing to cool you down— he licks up your blood in fat, broad swipes, wet and messy as he groans in your ear. “So good~” he pants hard, hips bucking, long index finger leaving your clit to trail down your soaked slit. “shit, you’re so wet for me…”

You're dizzy, lightheaded, foggy brain unable to keep up with all of the pleasure; your hips flutter wildly, legs spread wide to give Yeonjun the most access. “Want you,” you garble, pussy soaked and clenching around nothing.

Yeonjun momentarily pulls off of your neck, entranced by the way your blood pools around the puncture marks. You immediately whine pathetically for him, squirming, dazed and craving his lips back on your skin. “You want me, baby?” he teases, gentle fingers continuing to stroke your folds. “Want me how?”

His fingertip catches the hem of your panties, and you keen high in your throat— you can hardly speak, let alone string a sentence together, pretty little head empty and full of only Yeonjun… you want to cry out for him, watery, but all you manage is a pathetic, choked “Jjunie, your fingers, want your fingers, please—!”

Your face burns, but Yeonjun is just as desperate as you are— he tugs your panties down your thighs in one swift motion, leaving them bunched around your knees to stuff your cunt full with two bony fingers— you let out a sob at the intrusion, head lolling back just enough for yeonjun to continue getting his fill. You welcome the feeling of his lips and tongue, shaking and whimpering as he begins to scissor you open to the rhythm of his suckles on your neck.

“Mmm, ahh— Yeonjun!” you beg, but you’re not sure what for— Yeonjun's fingertips rub your sweet spot with perfect precision, his thumb coming up to rub tight, slick circles on your clit; you spread your legs wider, keen for more; your boyfriend gives it to you with a snicker, slides in a third finger alongside the others. “Please, please—“

“Please what?” Yeonjun goads, finishing his work on your neck with a lavish flick of his tongue. His fingers pump your pussy with vigor, nasty wet noises spilling from your drenched folds— he curses with a moan, grabs again at your tit with his free hand, tweaking and tugging at your sensitive bud. “God, you’re so perfect f’me, perfect girl… feed me so well, so delicious~”

Your bite had stopped bleeding, healed over with a few sweet kitten licks from your lover, but his venom still coursed through your veins, set your skin on fire, belly taught and aching cunt begging for release— you were still under his thrall, perfect little doll for him to play with after he’s gotten his meal. The pace of Yeonjun's fingers were brutal against your sweet spot, palm of his hand sending hot sparks through your clit with every rock of your hips… His leaking, throbbing cock, nestled between your cheeks, fat cockhead sliding thick and heavy against your asshole with every sloppy thrust— Yeonjun kisses your earlobe, bites down gently, whispers so sweet and fond, “C'mon baby, please what? i haven’t gotten you stupid on my fingers now, have i?”

“I’m gonna cum!” you wail in response, pussy fluttering around his digits, clit pulsating, your hips wild caught in between his hand and his hips; Yeonjun coos, twists and bends his fingers just the way you like it, the heat coiled tightly in your belly threatening to snap. “Please, gonna cum, wanna cum, let me cum!”

“Nasty girl, creaming all over my fingers after i suck her dry,” Yeonjun giggles, cock twitching hard against your fluttering asshole. “Go ahead, princess, make a fuckin’ mess.”

His free hand leaves your sore tit to pinch hard at your clit, long fingers fucking you open and playing with you just so perfect and right— you cum with a sharp cry, stretched out walls spasming, clamping down on yeonjun’s digits, swollen lips fluttering as you completely drench his hands in your release— Yeonjun talks you through it with sickly sweet “good girl”s and “good job”s, sticky fingers working your pretty abused hole despite just how hard you were clamping down, forcing them out— “So tight,” he groans brokenly in your ear, “Gotta fuck you now~”

“I said be quick—“ you retort, voiced fried, bratty despite letting Yeonjun manhandle you with ease— he towers over you on the bed, hips knocking, fat cock brushing against your folds and making you whimper… Yeonjun grabs your thighs in his hands, folds you in half with dizzying strength and ease; grin wolfish, eyes dark, sharp teeth catching the moonlight—

“Oh baby, we’re just beginning.”

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 1 year

Text

My Heart Is Thrilled By The Still Of Your Hand

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: okay uh praise kink, touch starved bucky, kinda size kink, a little bit of cockwarming, creampie, unprotected p in v (wrap it UP), oral f receiving, minor overstimulation idk I think that's all but I'm probably missing something

Genre: fluff + smut

Summary: You find out your very not physical boyfriend is actually touch starved

***

Your boyfriend does not like physical contact. You'd figured that out pretty soon after you'd met him. Granted he started out as your neighbor so there was really noreasonto have physical contact exactly, but when you introduced yourself to him, he didn't shake your hand. You seriously thought you messed up that first impression when he glanced at your outstretched hand and just nodded a hello. You obviously didn't because after months of friendly conversation, he eventually asked you on a date. A date on which he didn't touch you not once. Even when he was guiding you somewhere, his hand hovered at your back but never actually made contact. You thought maybe he was being overtly cautious to make sure he didn't cross any boundaries. Your second date was the same and while you tried not to think too much of it you'll admit it was a little awkward when you returned to your apartments and he rushed out a goodbye before disappearing into his place when you had stepped forward to tell him you had fun. Your third date went similarly, except you grabbed his hand while crossing a street without thinking and though he did let go after a few minutes you took it as a good thing that he didn't immediately snatch his hand back.

His lack of physicality didn't bother you really, especially because you'd met his closest friends and they don't seem to touch him either. When they visit he sits in the armchair while they're on the couch even though his couch does fit the three people. You know it does because when you hang out with all of them you usually take that third spot on the couch with your back against the armrest closest to Bucky. You know not everyone likes being touched so you allow Bucky to decide most of your physical contact. Aside from the rare occasions where you hold his arm for balance while walking in heels or grab his hand in busy places, which he tends to avoid, you let Bucky initiate things. He hardly does but your relationship is still new, a few months at this point, so you don't feel the need to rush him. You're perfectly comfortable with that choice until Sam pulls you aside one day when you're all at Bucky's apartment.

"I need to talk to you for a second y/n." Sam tells you, grabbing your arm before you can follow Steve out of the kitchen.

"What is it Sam?" You ask, tilting your head.

"What's up with you and your man?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Your brows knit together at his words.

"How do I put this? If I didn't know y'all were a couple I would assume you barely know each other. You don't hug, you don't kiss, you don't cuddle, you don't even sit together when we all hang. At first I thought you were just shy about affection around strangers but we're friends now I think and nothing has changed."

"I'm sorry do I need to reintroduce you to my boyfriend, one of the most physical touch adverse people I think I've ever met?"

"So it's not a you thing?" Sam asks.

"No! As far as I know Bucky pretty much hates being touched. I figured that out when I met him. I just don't push the issue." You shrug.

"I mean I know he doesn't like being touched but you're his girlfriend."

"Being his girlfriend doesn't give me permission to ignore his boundaries Sammy."

"I'm not saying ignore his boundaries, I'm saying his boundaries are probably different with you."

"Sam it took Bucky three dates to hold my hand and that was becauseIgrabbedhishand to drag him across the street. I really don't think I'm an exception."

"At this point I think you've made it seem so small that he assumes you don't like it either. If you showed him that you cared about all of that stuff I'm sure he'd show out." He says.

"Okay but Idon'tcare about all that stuff." You sigh, "I mean, I guess I do but not in the sense that I want to force him out of his comfort zone or anything like that- I'm fine Sam really."

"Are you guys coming because I will start this movie without you!" Steve shouts from the living room.

"We're coming!" You shout back. Sam grabs your arm before you leave the kitchen.

"Just give a little nudge." He says quickly. The two of you make it out to the living room and Sam nudges you as soon as you're by Bucky's seat. You trip just a little at the sudden shove and shoot a glare at him. He makes a not so subtle gesture at Bucky and you roll your eyes.

"Did you guys pick something?" You ask hesitantly placing a kiss on Bucky's cheek before taking your seat on the couch next to Sam who's in the middle. You don't notice the way Bucky touches his cheek or blushes at your sudden affection.

"Technically Sam picked this movie." Steve says.

"I did? Is itNow You See Me? Y/n you know they've never seen that?"

"I believe it." You nod.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve scoffs.

"You two are basically grandpas, now start the movie." You wave your hand at him, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Sam's lap. Sam laughs while Steve starts the movie. By the time you've finished both that and the sequel it's pretty late and everyone seems ready to wind down for the night. Steve and Sam say their goodbyes while you stick around to help Bucky clean up.

"I'll do the dishes tomorrow doll, just leave them in the sink, okay?" Bucky says when he sees you turning on the faucet.

"I don't mind doing them now-"

"It's late,andyou've already helped me straighten up. I'll take care of those." He pulls you away from the sink and turns it off. You put a hand on his cheek, your thumb gently stroking his face for a moment.

"You're sure?" You ask quietly. Bucky's eyes have fallen closed at this point and he lets out a content sigh before he replies.

"I'm sure." He says eventually.

"Alright, then I'll see you soon." You say giving him a quick kiss before going back across to your own apartment. It shouldn't, but your fingers against his skin stir something inside Bucky he hasn't felt in a long time and it makes him ache in more ways than one. For the next few weeks you take Sam's advice and test the waters in small ways. You put your arm around his when you're out together, offer hugs and kisses whenever the opportunity presents itself, you've even been finding ways to touch him while you watch TV together as opposed to sitting on opposite ends of the couch. It's all little innocent changes that you implement over time gaging Bucky for negative reactions and adjusting accordingly. He's not noticeably averse to anything you do so while there's no acknowledgment of your increased affection, you presume he's indifferent to it. Oh, how wrong you are. With each soft touch or gentle kiss, Bucky is only wound tighter over time. It takes everything in him not to react when you press yourself against him while leaving the movie theater or when you shyly kiss him before rushing into your apartment after saying goodnight. The more you do it the more he realizes how desperate he is to feel you but he can't bring himself to do anything about it. He wills himself to relish in the touches you give and not crave more. To his credit, for a while, that works. He's content with your shy kisses and gentle caresses until tonight. You're even more affectionate than you've been as of late and while Bucky loves the feeling of your hands on him, it's making the blood rush south while you're watching TV.

"Bucky are you alright?" You hum looking up at him from where your head is resting against his shoulder.

"Hm? Yeah, why?" He asks.

"Well, you've been pretty tense since I got here. I didn't wanna say anything but- I can feel your heart racing." You say patting his chest for emphasis.

"Oh is it?" He asks with forced ease that makes you chuckle.

"Babe what's going on?" You sit up to look at him.

"Nothing. You don't need to worry doll." He says grabbing your hand that's resting on his chest and squeezing reassuringly.

"Bucky, you don't have to lie to me." You frown.

"I'm not- lying." Bucky says. You look at him for a long moment before you shrug and lay your head back against his shoulder, turning your attention to the TV again absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest with your finger. A few minutes pass before Bucky lets out a harsh breath and you sigh.

"What's going on with you? And don't say nothing this time. If you're bored or something you can just say so instead of acting all weird."

"I'm not bored, trust me."

"Then tell me what's up with your behavior."

"I'm just- on edge. I guess." He shrugs.

"Why? Did something happen today?" You ask, concern in your voice.

"No no, nothing happened. I'm sorry for being weird, I'm just- god you drive me crazy." Bucky sighs.

"What didI do?"

"The way you touch me is maddening doll."

"Wait what? I haven't been doing-"

"I know. It's embarrassing how easily you manage to rile me up. All you've done is hug me and now I want to pin you against a wall." He grunts out. Your eyes widen at his confession.

"Pin me against a wall?" You gasp.

"I've been trying to control it so much I'm sorry I-"

"Bucky I'm not scandalized that you want to fuck me, I'm your girlfriend. I'm just- surprised because you hardly initiate contact and sometimes you shy away from it, I kind of just assumed you hated it."

"Well I, I'm not usually comfortable with it and with you, it, makes me dizzy. I can't think straight."

"So like this," you place your hand back on his chest, tracing gentle swirls against his thin t-shirt, "this makes you dizzy?" You ask curiously. Bucky's hand grabs your wrist in an attempt to keep you still.

"Yes it makes me dizzy. It's been making me dizzy for the last hour."

"I had no idea you'd be so easily excitable." You giggle.

"I'm not it's just you." Bucky says.

"If you want to pin me to a wall so bad I won't stop you."

"Y/n, don't tempt me."

"I mean you don't have to if you're not ready for that-"

"That is not the problem."

"Well what is?" You ask.

"Y/n," Bucky sighs and you shrug.

"Like I said, we don't have to. I know it's not you're thing, I'm only teasing." You tell him. Bucky lets out a grunt before pulling you into his lap so suddenly that you gasp.

"I don't think you understand how hard I'm trying to not fuck you silly doll."

"What if I want you to?" You ask and Bucky's hand tightens around your waist. He brings his other hand up to the back of your neck and sighs.

"You're going to be the death of me." He growls out before pulling you down to kiss him. The kiss is rough, Bucky's tongue claiming your mouth. When Bucky pulls away, you're panting harshly as he trails kisses down to your neck. He litters your throat with marks that have little whimpers falling from your lips. "God you sound so pretty." He mutters against your skin. Your hands slip under his shirt and you drag your nails across his abdomen, enjoying the way the muscles tense under your fingers. When you attempt to tug his shirt over his head he stops you.

"Is everything okay?" You ask breathlessly.

"Bedroom." He grunts.

"Does it matter?" You frown.

"To me yes. I'm not fucking you for the first time on my couch." He says. He tucks his hands under your thighs and stands from the couch with ease. You wrap yourself around him, leaving teasing kisses along his neck as he carries you down the hall.

"I'd let you fuck me in the back of an alley if you wanted Bucky." You tell him when he kicks the door of his room open.

"What're you trying to do doll? Gimme a heart attack?" He grumbles tossing you onto his bed.

"Never." You giggle tugging him towards you by his shirt. When Bucky's shins hit the edge of the bed he falls forward with his lips against yours, bracing himself against his hands on either side of your head.

"Hard to believe when you talk like that." He jokes as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt quickly over his head and you let your eyes roam freely across his chest.

"God, you're hot." You sigh which makes him chuckle. He leans forward to kiss you and then pulls your shirt up and off of you, tossing it somewhere behind him. Bucky dips his head to your collarbone, scattering your skin with wet kisses as he tugs your bra below your breasts. With your boobs on display, Bucky is quick to take one into his mouth, his tongue and lips lavishing your nipple with attention while his fingers tug and tease the other. Your back arches against his ministrations, quiet mewls filling the space.

"I love your little noises baby." He mutters, swapping his attention.

"Your mouth feels so good." You whimper, threading your fingers gently through his hair.

"Wait til you feel it between your legs doll." He smiles, kissing down your abdomen. Bucky pulls your shorts and underwear off in one go as he shuffles down the bed. "Such a pretty pussy." Bucky mutters, his hands on your thighs hold your legs open as he stares at you.

"Bucky," you frown, squirming against his hold impatiently.

"I gotchu doll." He says licking slowly between your folds. You suck in a breath at the feeling of his tongue against you. Bucky lets out a groan at your taste before burying his face fully between your legs. He laps at your core like a man starved, his tongue sharp and unforgiving against your clit. He has you so worked up that you're writhing against him, making him wrap his arms around your thighs to keep you still enough for him. Bucky pulls an orgasm from you embarrassingly fast, that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your gut snapping so soon it even shocks you. You draw a shaky breath that turns into a shakier moan when your body registers Bucky's mouth still on you, even stronger now than before.

"B-Bucky wait." You stutter out as you twist in his hold unsure if you want more or less of him.

"Gimme another baby. Love seeing you lose control." He growls out, two metal fingers joining his mouth, gently working you open as your walls continue to spasm helplessly in the aftermath of your first orgasm.

"I- Bucky- wai- I nee- God! I can't think!" You pant out, your fingers in his hair tugging harshly.

"Good, don't. Just be good and cum for me doll." Bucky says and when he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly as his fingers curl just right against that spot inside you, you have no choice but to follow the directive, cumming with a loud whine as Bucky eagerly indulges in your juices. When your breathing starts to slow, Bucky lets up, adjusting enough to shove his pants off and line himself with your entrance. "How ya doin' sweetheart? Still with me?" He asks, softly caressing your cheek. You hum in response at first, giggling as you lean into his touch. "Need you to speak for me doll. Can't give you more til you use your words." He chuckles.

"It'll take more than that to take me out baby." You wink at him, taking his dick in your hand and stroking it slowly. He's hot and hard in your grasp and you smile when Bucky's head drops to your shoulder as he groans at your touch.

"You're killing me sweetheart." He laughs breathlessly. You let out a laugh of your own and turn your head enough that your lips kiss the shell of his ear.

"It's only fair." You whisper, scraping your teeth gently against his earlobe. You can't help but delight in the way he shivers. Bucky pulls your hand from his length, trapping it under his against the bed.

"Who said anything about fair?" He manages before you feel him thrust into you. Your head snaps back at the feeling of him stretching you as he slowly rocks into you inch by inch. His size is almost overwhelming but you can't help but moan when he's finally bottomed out. Bucky's groan is strained as he sets a measured pace, clearly trying to give you time to adjust. His unhurried movements only serve to rile you up more and you're squirming against him as your hands still trapped under his clenches around it.

"Fucking hell Bucky move, please!" You finally grind out when it becomes unbearable. When your walls clench around him, any plans of leisure Bucky had in mind are tossed out. He grabs your hips tight enough that you're sure there will be bruises come morning, but you have no time to dwell on it as measured movements become unrelenting, his hips snapping against yours so hard the bed moves with each thrust. Your back arches into him as he presses into you repeatedly.

"This what you wanted doll? 'Be split open on my dick huh?" He huffs out.

"Yes- fuck, ohGodyes!" You cry out, your body overwhelmed with the feeling of him.

"That's it baby, scream for me. Let everyone know who's got you like this." His commands are breathy and gruff when they reach your ears.

"Bucky! More please! Oh my God Bucky!" You whine.

"Fuck you look so good taking my dick baby. Nice and stretched out like you should be- damn I could get used to this." Bucky's words only pull more sounds from you as another orgasm builds inside you. His fingers reach between the two of you to toy with your clit, rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves and hurdling you faster towards that third release.

"F-fuck- fuck I'm close- god I'm gonna-" it's not a full sentence, your brain is too scrambled to string together the proper thought.

"You gonna cum for me baby? Gonna make a mess all over my dick?"

"Yes, shit- yes, god yes."

"Go ahead doll, cum. Wanna feel you squeezing me." Bucky huffs out and with a few circles against your clit, you're doing just that, your third orgasm making you shake so hard Bucky has to hold you to chase his own release. His thrusts are more frantic now focused on finding his own end.

"God you fuck me so well baby, you're gonna cum in me aren't you? Want your cum leaking out me Bucky. Please- please fill me up." You whine.

"Fucking hell- you want itinyou? Want it flooding that needy little pussy?"

"Yes! Please Bucky! Please cum in me. Want it so bad." You plead breathily. Moments later his hips stutter and you feel the heat of his release as it fills you. His harsh breathing is the only sound in the room for a few minutes as you feel your heartrate slowing.

"Yeah you really are going to be the death of me." He chuckles breathlessly as he attempts to recover from his high. You giggle and wrap your arms around him, pulling his full weight onto you.

"Wait a sec babe let me-"

"Whatever it is can wait, I just wanna lay like this for a while." You tell him. Your soft voice and gentle strokes of his hair are too soothing for him to even want to argue and so you lay like that for who knows how long. Bucky's head on your chest as you play with his hair, he doesn't even attempt to take his dick out of you, just wanting to prolong your closeness.

As it turns out your boyfriend does like physical contact, but only when it comes from you.

***

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