#and imagine him swallow you down to help him sleep
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Guilty as Sin? - Chapter Two
pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader
rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, lots of yearning, derrick disappoints us, javier flirts...kinda, law school stuff that i'm researching as i go so bare with me actual lawyers and law students, mentions of a crime/DV (used as an example), reader wears skirts (for the sake of future smut)
word count: 3.8k
series masterlist
After a long night of imagining Dr. Peña’s stern eyes peering into yours from between your thighs, it was time to face him yet again. With his Criminal Law class Monday through Wednesday, and his Intro to Forensics lab Wednesday through Friday, it seemed you’d have to learn to get used to his dizzying effect on you or else you’d never get a full night of sleep. It didn’t help that both Nina and Alondra had guests over last night, their explicit noises forcing you into sleeping with headphones on.
Ears aching and eyes tired, you carried on with your day as usual. New lectures in Advanced Forensics and Criminal Profiling in the morning, and Dr. Peña’s class in the afternoon. Derrick followed you around in between classes, eager to prove himself to you by buying your latte and carrying your bag—even when you insisted you were fully capable of doing both on your own.
You weren’t sure what had gotten into him over the summer while he was away with his family in the Hamptons—a luxury you could only imagine as you spent your summer working as an underpaid secretary for a law firm. Perhaps it had to do with his older brother’s engagement and recent promotion to an attending physician that compelled him to be so pushy when it came to you. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in getting married this young, not when you still had so much to prove.
“Hopefully there’s a seat in the back today,” he said, opening the door to the lecture hall for you. While he may have a good reason for not wanting to be the center of Dr. Peña’s attention again, there was a decent sized part of you that adored his attention—even if it meant a scolding. Maybe especially if it meant that.
“Yeah,” you lied, swallowing down your nerves as you stepped into a much more crowded room than yesterday. You scanned the room, now full of hopeful women and men who must have heard about Dr. Peña’s looks and transferred out of their old classes to get a glimpse of the man. Only five seats remained, four of them scattered around the auditorium and one in the front row.
“Shit,” Derrick swore, scanning the room. “Guess we have to split up.”
You fought away the smirk threatening to spread across your face and frowned. “Sucks. Well, I’m gonna be in the front.”
“So he can pick on you?” Derrick asked, raising a brow. “There’s a seat near the back, take that one.”
“I’m fine,” you assured, giving him a glare to admonish whatever control he thought he had over what you chose to do. He scoffed, watching you as you made your way down the steps of the hall to the front row where you found a seat beside a girl you were friendly with during undergrad, Mayte. “Is this seat open?”
“Yeah,” she chirped with a smile, moving her bag from the seat to let you sit down. “Crazy how full this class is. I don’t feel like it was this packed yesterday.”
“It wasn’t,” you chuckled, unpacking your notebook and pen.
Striding in in a red button down and almost skin tight black slacks that you couldn’t help but notice bulged out at the zipper, the reason for all the new transfers became clear. The hush that fell over the room was telling, a silence that filled you with so much jealousy you thought you might be sick.
“Afternoon,” he greeted, setting his back down in his chair. After pulling out a stack of papers, he gave the room a quick once over, his shock written in the lift of his brows. “Full house today.”
The room filled with flirty laughter, your eyes rolling in response. Heading over to Mayte who sat at the start of the row, Dr. Peña handed her the stack of papers, his eyes flickering towards yours as he spoke, “Take one, pass it down.”
You looked away, the window now seeming far more interesting than it had a second ago.
“Today’s lecture will be on the fundamental elements of crime,” he said, reaching his podium. Hearing your name called, you shrank a bit in your seat. Still, that thrill of earning his attention raced through your veins, daring you to meet his eyes. “Can you tell the class what these elements are?”
You nodded, flipping to the page in your notebook you’d filled out the night before while studying. “The fundamental elements of a crime are actus reus, mens rea, and causation.”
The corner of his mouth tilted upwards as he gave you a nod, his eyes hesitantly shifting from yours to the row behind you. “Mr. Velasquez, define actus reus for me.”
“Actus reus refers to the act of committing a crime, either knowingly or unknowingly,” he said.
“Very good,” Dr. Peña commended. “Simply put, actus reus—which is Latin for guilty act—refers to the ‘what’ in a crime. These criminal actions must be considered voluntary and done during a lucid state to constitute a crime. For example, a sober man comes home from a hard day at work and assaults his wife. This act was done both in a conscious state and by his own volition. Now, if the wife were to be in a state of survival and had no other choice than to respond to the assault with an extreme measure, this is an entirely different story and does not meet the qualifications for actus reus.”
“Murder is murder, isn’t it?” Derrick asked from somewhere in the middle row, causing you to roll your eyes. Did he really not understand the difference between murder and self defense this far into the law program?
“Murder is murder, and survival is survival, Mr. Crawley,” Dr. Peña explained, crossing his arms over his shoulders. “Do you disagree with this logic?”
“Sort of, yeah,” he said, matching Dr. Peña’s arrogance without possessing any of the charm. “There are ways to defend yourself without killing someone?”
“Do you think these victims have the time to strategize when they have a gun pressed to their temple? If there’s a blade to their throat?” he challenged. “They do what they have to do to survive. It’s not our place as lawyers to judge them, it’s our job to uphold the law.”
“Laws that are written with double standards,” Derrick scoffed, earning a shush that sounded an awful lot like Nina.
“Perhaps if you make it to the end of the program you can change things,” Dr. Peña smirked, glancing at you before turning back to your friend who was looking an awful lot like a stranger these days. “But I’m not so certain that’ll be the case for you, Mr. Crawley.”
After the scene that was class, you met up with Alondra at the library, both of you determined to avoid the noise that came along with Derrick having his male friends over at the apartment. Beyond the obnoxious volume they all spoke at, you hated the way they watched you, whispering amongst themselves about how jealous they were that Derrick got to live with three beautiful girls—nevermind the fact that none of you wanted anything to do with him in that sense.
“What are you doing your paper on for Arman’s class?” Alondra asked as she typed on her laptop.
“Not sure yet,” you said, taking a bite out of the banana you’d hoped would fuel you until dinner. “Maybe capital punishment.”
“That’s good,” she commended. “I was thinking of analyzing the process of trying someone with psychological disorders.”
“Still interested in criminal psych?”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve done the psychology route instead, but there was no way I was going to convince my parents to fund that.”
“Why not?” you frowned.
“They don’t think mental illness is a real thing, which is funny considering they both exhibit traits of bipolar disorder and narcissism,” she laughed, hiding her trauma behind a thin veil of humor like she always did. Not that you minded it. The whole expressing your feelings thing never really came that easily to you. “Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you something.”
“Oh, no,” you winced.
“So rumor has it that you and Derrick have a little date on Friday?”
“Yeah,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I just want to get it over and done with so he’ll drop the whole thing. I mean, four years into being friends and I never felt a thing for him. Does he really think that changed overnight?”
“Knowing him, probably,” she chuckled. “Anyways, I heard from a very credible source—“
“Sabina,” you guessed.
“Maybe,” she blushed. “Anyways, she told me that on the first night back, Derrick hooked up with an undergrad and caught a case of the clap.”
“Shut up,” you gasped. “Chlamydia? At his grown age?”
“I know,” she laughed. “So, just be careful if you decide to—“
“Believe me, I had no intentions of fucking him before and I sure as hell have none now,” you assured, cringing at the thought.
“Interesting conversation for a library, isn’t it?” Dr. Peña’s warm timbre sent a chill up your spine as he stood behind your chair, Alondra’s eyes wide and cheeks flushed.
“We were just…gossiping,” she offered, shrugging the embarrassment off. “Women, am I right?”
“Two very bright women who’d be far better off studying,” he challenged.
You refused to turn around, his leather and vetiver scent combined with his proximity already too much for your system of self restraint to handle. Instead, you flipped the page of your textbook in strained silence.
“I actually was hoping to speak to you about tomorrow’s lab,” he continued, now speaking directly to you.
“8 p.m., got it,” you said, your tone clipped with frustration at your dirty mind.
“It was actually in reference to your…clothing,” he returned, causing Alondra to raise a brow as she pretended to resume her typing. Turning in your seat, you peered up at him with furrowed brows.
“What about my clothing?” you inquired.
“You seem to wear a lot of dresses and skirts,” he noted, though he looked as if it was torture to even have this conversation. “I just wanted to remind you that appropriate PPE is required for all labs, which means—“
“Pants. Understood,” you said, turning back to your book.
“Good,” he managed, almost sounding as if he’d lost his voice with how strained his tone was. “I’ll leave the two of you to your gossiping and studying, then.”
Alondra watched as he walked past your table, his hands tucked into his pocket as if he owned the place.
“Hot,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I’m pretty gay, but that tension…”
“There’s no tension, he’s just a dick,” you snapped, feeling your cheeks heat as you replayed the interaction over and over in your head.
He really paid that much attention to you? So much so that he felt compelled to remind you of lab etiquette you learned back in high school?
The delusional part of your mind swooned while the logical part recoiled.
“Please show up in a mini skirt,” she begged, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. Snorting at herself, she proceeded to mimic his deep voice, “I thought I told you no mini skirts.”
“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up,” you sighed, rubbing your temples.
“Yes, I’ve been such a naughty girl, Professor.”
“Would you look at that. Seems like it’s time for me to get the fuck out of here,” you said, closing your book and shoving it into your bag.
“Don’t be like that, I’m just trying to paint an image,” she teased, laughing as you hustled to get your things packed.
“Sorry, I’ve got a date with my bed,” you snarked, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
“How convenient,” she smirked, tapping her pen against her chin. “I give you a brand new fantasy and now you’re off to bed.”
“Someone’s moans kept me up all night so I’m exhausted,” you retorted, laughing at the way she kept staring you with that knowing look of hers. “Fuck off.”
“Love you more,” she called as you turned and walked away.
After another night of restless sleep and inappropriate fantasies of Dr. Peña’s hands sliding up your skirt, it was time for yet another day of this back and forth. You’d expected Derrick to keep his distance after his humiliating interaction during CrimLaw, perhaps brood about like he usually did when things didn’t go his way, but it was business as usual today. He followed you around like a lost dog, talking your ear off about his upcoming project for his mock trial in his Criminal Procedures class as you wandered off in your mind to a reality where he hadn’t changed into this hyper masculine man you didn’t recognize.
“I’m excited,” he beamed, rubbing his hands together. “First time to prove myself in a courtroom.”
“An artificial court room,” you clarified, earning a scowl. “Hey, I have to get to Peña’s lab.”
“We’re, uh, still good for Friday, right?” he asked, catching your elbow as you moved to walk away.
“If you want,” you shrugged, looking down at where he still gripped your arm. “I should get going.”
He nodded, letting your arm go. “I’ll see you at home.”
After managing to ditch Derrick, you assumed your walk to Dr. Peña’s lecture hall would give you a moment of respite, but of course fate had different plans.
You didn’t even recognize him until he was already approaching with a cocky grin and his arms held out wide. Micah, the man who’d ruined your entire undergrad experience with all of his back and forth bullshit. You fought the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust over his new mullet and pitiful mustache he likely spent all summer growing.
“Hey,” he chimed your name, creating an absurd desire inside you to change it just so you’d never have to hear it on his lips again. You feigned confusion, as if you could ever forget those green eyes that still haunted every dream. “Shit, you don’t recognize me.” He laughed. “It’s Micah.”
“Oh. Hey.” Your greeting was as strained as your smile.
“You’re looking good,” he praised, admiring you from top to bottom. You cringed at his appraisal, at his ignorance over the entire situation. “How’s, uh, how’s law school?”
“Fine,” you replied, clipped and cold.
“Why’re you acting like that?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. Oh, the amount of money you’d pay for the chance to slap that arrogant smirk right off his face. “You still holding onto all that old shit?”
“Four years of emotional abuse will do that,” you replied. “Anyways, I have to be somewhere.”
“C’mon, all your friends forgave me for that shit. Why can’t you?”
Maybe today would be the day you finally lost your shit on him and ended up in jail. Though, that would mean missing Dr. Peña’s lab and you certainly couldn’t miss out on the chance to ogle him.
“They forgave you because they weren’t the ones you fucked over,” you explained, choosing to be mature even when it ached. “So I get to decide when I want to forgive you. Not the other way around. And just as a good rule of thumb, I don’t plan on forgiving you anytime soon.”
“So what, we just avoid each other?” he frowned, daring to act as though he was hurt.
“That’s the goal,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, won’t be long now until you flunk out since I’m not around to write your essays anymore.”
“Fucking bitch,” he hissed, signaling your cue to walk the fuck away before you did something that would end up with you in a jail cell. “And you wonder why I cheated!”
Shaking your head to clear out all the memories of nights spent sobbing on the floor or in Nina’s bed because yours reminded you of him too much, you marched off towards the lecture hall with five minutes to spare. Thankfully unlike your Criminal Law lecture, you didn’t have to worry about finding a seat given the fact that you’d be sitting at the front of class in a desk designated to the TA.
You passed rows of undergrads whispering and laughing amongst themselves, all of them blissfully unaware of the storm heading their way. As you reached the front of the class, Dr. Peña walked in with the same frown of disapproval he wore on the first day of your lecture.
“Evening,” he greeted, silencing the room with one simple word. He shot you a glance, doing a double take as he noticed you were still unpacking your bag and getting settled.
“You’re late,” he scolded in a whisper as he walked over to your desk, the cinnamon on his breath invading your senses.
“I’m five minutes early,” you challenged as you opened your notebook and jotted down the date, well aware of the sea of freshman and sophomore eyes trained on the two of you.
“I need you here at seven-thirty,” he ordered. “I had to prep by myself.”
“I apologize,” you sighed, half due to your run in with Micah and half due to the ever present exhaustion of trying to keep your fantasies of your demanding professor at bay. “I’ll be on time tomorrow.”
“That would be appreciated,” he snarked, shaking his head as he wandered back to the center podium with a clearing of his throat. “Welcome to Intro to Forensics. I’m Dr. Peña, you’ll refer to me as such this semester—not dude, not bro, and certainly no nicknames. I’m not your friend, I’m here to teach you. Understood?”
God, he was a dick. A beautiful, wound up dick that you couldn’t stop thinking about.
“This is your TA for the semester,” he introduced you by name, and something about the way it sounded on his lips caused your breath to hitch. “She’ll be here to help during labs as well as tutoring on her own time. If you have questions about the material or assignments, I suggest you speak with her first. You’ll find her tutoring hours on the syllabus.”
You frowned a bit as you thought about the whole tutoring part of being a professor’s assistant. Spending your weeknights at the library helping out undergrads sounded like pure torture at this point in your life, but at least the extra cash would go a long way towards covering your bills.
“Today we’ll be covering DNA fingerprinting,” he said, pulling up a slideshow presentation. “Can anyone tell me how exactly this process works?”
A pretty freshman shot her hand up before he’d even finished speaking, curdling your stomach with jealousy you knew you had no right to feel. “Yes, Miss…?”
“You can just call me Jess,” she smiled, tucking a piece of her caramel brown hair behind her ears.
“No. What’s your last name?” he sighed.
“Jacobs,” she sputtered, her cheeks turning a shade of red. “DNA fingerprinting uses nucleotide sequences in DNA to determine who the fingerprints belong to.”
“Very good,” he nodded. “And what are nucleotides?”
“I…um, I don’t know,” she admitted, that sparkling smile now long gone as she stared down at her book.
“Figured,” he chided, skipping to the next slide. “Your knowledge doesn’t mean a thing if you can’t explain it.”
Watching him talk down to a student shouldn’t have stirred you the way that it did. In fact, if he’d been any other man talking to a woman that way, you’d have detested him. But there was something about Dr. Peña that poisoned your mind in his favor, a very annoying thing you now had to add to your list of shit to sort out upstairs.
After a relatively silent lab where the students had to match DNA samples to their rightful owner, it was nearing ten o’clock, the pitch black sky outside beckoning you to hurry the fuck up and get to bed. Of course, nature was forgetting your very demanding professor who seemed dead set on wearing you out in all the wrong ways.
“You take half, I’ll take half,” he suggested, splitting the stack of worksheets in two and handing you your share as you sat in his private office that was adjoined to the lecture hall. “Should be finished quickly enough.”
“Is there any way I can just do these at home?” you asked, your eyelids growing heavier with each blink.
He studied you for a beat, those brown eyes traversing every single feature, every inch from head to toe as if he was searching for something. “If you’d prefer.”
“I’m just really tired,” you admitted, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. “Don’t want to accidentally fall asleep in your office.”
“That would be inconvenient,” he chuckled, and god, what a sound. “Grade them wherever you’d like, just make sure you drop them off tomorrow morning.”
Nodding, you grabbed your bag and carefully tucked the papers inside.
“Tomorrow morning,” you echoed.
“I look forward to it,” he smiled, a fleeting thing that disappeared the moment you turned to look at him. “Have a good night.”
You took in a slow inhale and offered him a more lasting smile. “You too, Professor.”
“And don’t worry about the PPE tomorrow,” he added, stopping you as you moved to leave the room. Raising your brow at him, he looked entirely unphased, his eyes once again combing you over before he seemed to realize himself. “No lab, just a lecture.”
“Right,” you said, biting your lip. “I’ll be sure to wear my shortest skirt.”
Did you really just say that? Out loud?
Dr. Peña cracked a smile and shook his head, turning back to his desktop. “I wouldn’t want you to cause a scene.”
“I’m not sure the sight of me in a skirt is scene worthy.”
He tilted his head to the side in consideration, his eyes still locked on his screen.
“I’d beg to differ,” he said, wearing that taunting fucking smirk as he typed. “Anyways, be safe getting home.”
“Yeah,” you chuckled—at him, at yourself, at everything. “Night, Dr. Peña.”
“Good night,” he smiled.
And just like that, you discovered a way to taunt him the way he taunted you by just existing.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#javier peña fic#javier peña x reader#javi peña#javier peña smut#javier pena smut#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier pena fic#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier peña fluff#javier pena x you#javier pena fluff#guilty as sin?
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NSFW OR FETISH BLOGS PLEASE DNI
Movie Mike Schmidt is definitely my new predcrush. I’d imagine him being super nervous about holding anyone in his stomach but eventually would get used to it yet he’d still be nervous as hell. Like every three seconds he taps on his middle and is like: “Are you okay in there?” And he’s protective of one’s he loves?! Literally just makes him better.
#and imagine him swallow you down to help him sleep#like the weight in his stomach helps soothe him#but he’d still probably be a nervous wreck#soft vore#g/t#sfw g/t#sfw vore#fnaf noms#fnaf movie#fnaf vore#Mike Schmidt noms#Mike Schmidt vore#extreme cuddling#protective vore
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Note: Wow, the roommate!Simon story blew up. Anyway, here's part 2.
Following his conversation with Johnny, Simon begins to think. He begins to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’s developing feelings for you. Why else would he be so protective and mad when the sergeant talks this way about you? The thought scares him at first.
For one, being near him is a death sentence, he saw that with his family. He can’t even imagine surviving losing someone he loved again. Then there is another thing, the fact he isn’t sure you would return his feelings. If you didn’t, as he suspects, living with you would be torture, and he’s honestly too lazy to look for a new place to stay.
The next time he arrives home in the middle of the day, the apartment is empty since you’re at your workplace most probably. Not seeing your face brighten at the sight of him makes his heart ache, but he knows you’ll be home in two or three hours, so he can most certainly survive that by lying down to catch up on sleep. He leaves a post-it for you on the small table next to the front door where you always put your keys, warning you that he’s back home.
He’s woken by the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet. When he checks the clock on his bedside, he notices it’s past seven, which means he slept a good four hours without interruptions. The new record of the past weeks as the most he slept peacefully was two hours tops. He climbs out of bed and goes to the living room, surprised to see you in the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you admire the neatly cut brownies on the kitchen island.
“You’re awake!” you exclaim happily, quickly pressing a button on the coffee machine to make him some coffee too, then pick up an empty plate and put a slice of brownie on it. “Welcome home. Here, try this. I thought you might use some homemade things after being away for so long.”
That damn smile of yours. It’s wide, happy, and it easily warms his heart and makes him smile too. Your good mood is infectious and he finds himself stuffing the cookie into his mouth as he stands next to you, nudging your side with his hip playfully. “It’s perfect, thank you,” he says while chewing, earning a roll of your eyes. You hate it when someone talks with their mouth full, so he quickly swallows the remains and goes, “Sorry.”
You shake your head with a laugh then turn away to get his coffee. Simon can’t help but wonder if this is how things would always be if you were his wife, if you would be this kind and caring all the time. He certainly could get used to this. He wouldn’t believe he deserves all the love, but he would definitely enjoy your attention.
“What got you thinking so hard?”
Simon lets out a questioning hum before realizing he zoned out for a while. “You,” he replies honestly.
“Me?”
“Mm-hmm.” Before you could ask more questions, he moves in front of you, trapping you between the kitchen island and his body as he leans down to you. “I had an interesting conversation with someone and it got me thinking while I was gone,” he says with his lips moving so close he almost kisses you. “Do you have any idea how much I miss you when I’m deployed? How many times do I wonder what you’re doing while I’m away?”
It’s easy to tell, especially from this close, that your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat as you watch him. Your eyes are moving back and forth between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide what to focus on. You’re both under a spell that he doesn’t want to break, in fact he wants this moment to last forever, this anticipation before he finally makes up his mind to kiss you. He wants to do it, but he can’t help but think about whether or not you would be against it.
Maybe he thinks too much, maybe his brain is too focused on the negative thoughts, and before he knows it, you move your head to capture his lips with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. Simon is aware that he has issues. He understands that his brain is only on high alert because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves your attention. After all, he’s not a good man. Well, not always. He does his job like a good little soldier, but the lines are blurry between good and bad.
He knows that you know this too. Shortly after he moved in and found out what he did for a living, you had a lot of questions, many that he simply wasn’t allowed to answer. But you probably sensed that he was keeping things to himself, certain aspects of this position that civilians would never understand. He didn’t want to scare you away, he didn’t want you to throw him out, so he kept his mouth shut. You knew that and never pried for more information.
When your nails dig into the skin on his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, Simon finally returns to the moment, returning your delicious kiss while his hands grab your ass and help you on the counter behind you. His lips trail from your lips to the shell of your ear, whispering praises until he feels your hands moving to his belt.
As much as he wants that, he knows he has to stop you. So he reaches down to grab your hands, pulling them away and lacing his fingers with yours as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Not yet, love. Let’s go on a proper date first, yeah?” he asks you with a small smile.
You whine, then you beg for more, asking him why you have to go on a date when you've been living together for over a year now. He tells you that the reason is simple; he spent a bigger part of it away from home so you have to get to know each other.
“I know you, Simon,” you push on, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his forearm as you speak. When you see the determination in his eyes, you finally let out a sigh of defeat and say, “Okay, fine. Let's go on a date first. But don't even think about something fancy. Let's keep it simple.”
With a short laugh, he leans down to give you a quick kiss. “Understood.”
Later in the evening, way past eleven, the two of you finally say goodnight and he returns to his room. There's a message waiting on his phone, one that came from Johnny. “I’ll send her a DM if you won't introduce me,” it says.
“Better not. She's taken,” he replies.
#ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#call of duty#simon riley x reader#mw2#modern warfare#mw3#john soap mactavish#john mactavish
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Starin' Problem.
pairing: dbf!no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader
summary: a red dress and a glass of whiskey is all it took for Joel to lose every ounce of self control he once had.
warnings: porn no plot, female pronouns, age gap (both consenting adults), unprotected p in v, fingering, creampie, slight creep joel, daddy kink, breeding kink...,mean joel, dirty talk, praise!!!, no use of y/n or descriptions of reader, not proofread
word count: 1.3k words
recommended listening: granite by sleep token
authors note: i'm pretty sure I had planned for this to take place at reader's parent's wedding but i never specified so it's just some fancy event they planned lmfao, enjoy <333
“Quit starin’.” Your father whispered into Joel’s ear, following his eyes to you, his daughter, across the room. “Let's not have a problem tonight.”
“I ain’t.” Joel grunted, taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand as he continued to watch you. “We won’t have any problems.”
He’d spent most of the night trying to decide if you’d worn any underwear under the dress, with a slit that ended right under your hip he was convinced you weren’t but then you’d turn a specific way and he swore he could make out a line. The low neckline left nothing to the imagination and only added to the torture you were putting Joel through at the hands of fashion, he never knew he could be so turned on by someone your age but here he was with a rock hard cock, staring like a creep.
“Whoever that guy with your dad is has been staring at you all night.” One of the girls you’d been standing with spoke, a hint of jealousy in her voice.
You turned your head around, making eye contact with Joel, and looking him up and down. You couldn’t deny the attraction you had for him, and the dark red suit your father had picked out to match the same red of the dresses your mom had picked out wasn’t helping at all. He looked you up and down before making eye contact with you again, taking another sip of his whiskey, and twirling a finger around.
“Joel? He’s probably on a secret mission to keep an eye on me.” You joked, acting like you had stepped on your dress as an excuse to spin around without anyone suspecting anything.
“He can keep an eye on me.” A different girl responded, giggling as they continued to joke about him.
He could’ve orgasmed right then and there as you spun around, the two of you hadn’t spoken all night and yet here you were entertaining him. His glass of whiskey was almost empty, if he played his cards right maybe he’d be able to get you alone, away from the annoying girls you’d been around all night.
You watched him glance at his glass before heading off to what you assumed was the kitchen, he hadn’t made any signal for you to follow but this was your moment.
“What would my dear father think if he knew his best friend was eyeing up his daughter?” You whispered, coming up behind Joel and dragging your nails down his back.
“Does his dear daughter care?” Joel whispered back, setting his glass down and turning around to face you. “Seemed like you quite enjoyed it.”
He trailed a finger over the neckline of your dress, hooking it under the fabric and exposing one of your breasts. A low groan escaped his throat, accompanied by him fixing his suit pants. His fingers found your nipple, rolling and tugging it slightly.
“Seems to me you’re enjoying it a whole bunch.” He chuckled, using his other hand to tilt your chin up, leaning down so your lips were inches apart.
“Fuck, Joel-”
He smashed his lips against yours, swallowing every whimper escaping your lips, pulling the other side of your dress down to expose both breasts. Your hands made quick work of unbuttoning his suit jacket, pulling it off of him and throwing it on the floor, before moving to his dress shirt.
“Naughty girl, lettin’ some old man touch you in a kitchen at your parent’s party.” He spoke against your lips, shoving your dress down to your hips and taking a step back to admire you. “God you’re fuckin’ pretty.”
“Joel, please.” You whined, grabbing at the last few buttons left on his shirt desperately as if it was going to get them unbuttoned faster.
“I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already beggin’. Fuckin’ whore.” He chuckled, helping you unbutton his shirt and tossing it to the side with his jacket. “Need some dick, huh?”
You shook your head, shoving the rest of the dress over your hips and onto the floor, grabbing his head and smashing your lips back together. His fingers danced their way down your skin, memorizing every bump and curve in the chance that he wouldn’t get to do this again, making their way under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter behind him.
He trailed a finger up and down your folds, gathering your wetness and bringing it to his mouth, groaning at the taste. The sensation of his finger slowly pushing in and out was so overwhelming, you were practically floating on cloud nine and there was nothing you’d change about it.
“Tell me how bad you want it.” Joel rasped, lips pressed up against your ear, removing the rest of his clothing. “Tell daddy how bad you need it.”
“Daddy, please…fuck- need it so bad.” Your words were barely audible, desperate and whiny.
The feeling of his cock pushing inside of you had you throwing your head back, hand slapped over your mouth to muffle any and all noise he’d pull out of you. He pulled back out slowly, watching your pussy grip his cock as he pushed back in. Forbidden sex had never felt so good, he’d find any and every reason to visit you after tonight if he could experience this again. His beard scratched against your neck as he bent over, pulling your body closer to him, sucking and biting at the skin he could reach.
“God, I could make you a fuckin’ mom.” Joel groaned, leaning his head further into the crook of your neck. “Look so fuckin’ pretty, full of my babies.”
“Daddy-”
“That’s right, say my name, baby.” He switched the arm that was bearing your weight and brought the newly freed hand to your hair, tugging it back enough so he could see your face.
His hips pistoned in and out, cock reaching places you didn’t even know it could, but if you told him that he’d make a joke about you not sleeping with a real man like him. He placed wet kisses down your neck and all the way down to your nipples, sucking on them in turns.
“Joel, please, I’m so close..” You cried, eyes filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill at any moment.
“That’s too damn bad, because that’s not my name.” He chuckled, evilly, wiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks. “Try again, I know you can do it, baby.”
“Daddy, daddy please.”
“Good girl.”
He brought his thumb down to your clit, drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts, coaxing your orgasm right out of you. You slumped into him as it hit you, body shaking as it made its way through you. He continued to thrust into you, chasing his own white, hot high. Your small whimpers as you came back to the world was enough to send Joel over the edge, painting your insides a nice milky white. His own body slumping into yours as he recovered from the pleasure.
“Did such a good job, darlin’.” He praised, smoothing your hair down as you continued your way out of cloud nine. “Did so good for me.”
You gave him a weak smile, smoothing the hairs that were stuck to his sweaty forehead back to their spot. He sat you back down on the counter and filled his glass up with water before handing it to you, the aftertaste of whiskey was enough to perk you right up.
Joel helped you back into your dress, fixing your hair to cover the hickeys that were soon to appear, sliding your underwear back up but making sure to push his cum back inside of you before sliding them all the way up.
“C’mon, we got speeches to make.”
#maddies fics#joel miller fluff#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller#joel tlou#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#tlou hbo#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#pedro x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fandom
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whiny and spoiled
in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust
a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs
You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly.
You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him.
“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting.
“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?”
“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.”
“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.”
“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table.
“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him.
“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.”
He circles to the foot of the bed.
“Are you saying you want to scare me away?”
“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease.
You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes.
“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces.
“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered.
“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.
“Shut up. I’m totally scary.”
But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you.
“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.”
Your eyes narrow.
“Don’t patronize me.”
The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.
“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?”
You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you.
“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.”
“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.”
“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.
“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip.
“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.”
“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?”
“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough.
“I like hearing you say yes.”
You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate.
“Yes, you can take them off.”
A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.
“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed.
“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.”
“My attitude is your fault.”
“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.”
“Spencer,” you grit.
He slings your ankles over his shoulders.
“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.”
And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?”
“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his.
“Are you just saying that?”
Another kiss.
“No! Mean it,” you whimper.
“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.
The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds.
“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur.
He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous.
Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.
His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.
“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.
“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.”
“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message.
“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?”
“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.
Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you.
“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!”
He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak.
You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.
“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth.
“You can take it for a minute, honey,”
A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth.
The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on.
“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.”
“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.”
“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.”
“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.”
You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.”
“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.”
“Don’t go spreading it around.”
“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer.
“You’re not even a little scared of me?”
He smoothes your hair away from your eyes.
“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.”
You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again.
“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts.
“Oh, do I?”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid smut#criminal minds smut
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18+ 🌶️
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
thinking about Eddie on his bed, trying to sleep as he twists and turns but the tent in his boxers is too painful to bare
he eventually stops fighting it and whips his cock out, stroking the throbbing tip with his thumb, letting the precum leak and flow down the length.
his mind flooding with pictures of you, his bestfriend, on top of him, his dick in your hands instead of his as he begins pumping
he knew it was wrong to get off to the thought of you, but the way you looked tonight as you curled up on his couch, watching the movie he rented drove him crazy. you were just so beautiful when you cuddled up to him
he had suffered an aching boner the whole time you were there when you had decided to show up in the short skirt of yours, and it didn't help when your bare thighs rubbed against his when sat on the couch beside him
he imagined you riding him, your wet cunt swallowing him whole as you bounced up and down on his dick. it was awful, to imagine you in such a way after years of being just friends. but he just couldn't help himself.
he pace quickened as he fisted himself, his head thrown back on his pillow, his free hand gripping onto his sheets as he felt himself get close to releasing
he pictured your hands roaming around his body, pulling at his hair, your soft lips leaving marks everywhere as you rolled your hips, your tits jumping along with your movements
his loud moans and grunts filled his empty trailer as he felt his dick twitching in his rough hand, the squelching echoing in his room as he imagined you praising him with whimpers, screaming his name as he hits your good spot
he can hear it now, the faint whisper of your voice telling him how big he is, how he's filling you up nicely as he fucks up into your dripping and aching tight pussy.
all these perverted thoughts of Eddie's send him over the edge, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth slightly agape with small beads of sweat building up on his forehead as he moans your name.
his cum shooting out of his red swollen tip and landing on his stomach, making a mess as he keeps pumping, riding out his high
he stays here for a while, laying down on his bed, trying to catch his breath before sitting up, his cum running down his tummy and reaching his happy trail.
he just couldn't help it
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
i usually don't write stuff like this
#x fem!reader#imagines#oneshot#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie munson smut#smut#eddie munson imagine#joseph quinn#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie the banished
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SHOW ME • S. REID X READER
gn reader with female anatomy; smut; guided masturbation; unprotected sex w/ no mention of contraceptives (do not do what they do); dirty talk; ~1.4k words
“Spencer?” You ask softly, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater over you. Your hair drips water onto the shirt and the floor. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
His brows raise. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
It was, it still was, but you’d thought of him while you were in the shower. Imagined that your hands were his, soaping your skin and sliding over your breasts and the curves of your ass hips. You didn’t want innocent cuddles, it wouldn’t be enough for you.
You swallow. “I mean in another way,”
Spencer sits up. “Sit,” he pats the mattress and you oblige, folding your legs under your and folding your hands politely on your thighs. He tilts your head up to face him, studying you so intently you want to look away. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”
“Thought about how good your hands would feel.” You whisper out the words in a rush. “Mine aren’t good enough anymore, I— I keep—” you sigh and look down. “I keep thinking about you when I get off because nothing else works anymore.”
He hums. “So you’re frustrated?” When you nod vigorously, he sighs, skimming his fingers over your collarbones. “Baby, you have to be sure you want this. I don’t want you to regret it tomorrow.”
You whine, frustrated with him now. “I’m sure, Spence, I’ve thought about you for weeks, but showering — using your body wash and smelling like you, I couldn’t help it… but it wasn’t enough because I knew you were right outside the door — and I—, I just want you.”
Your emphasis on the last word is what gets him.
Spencer leans back and your heart sinks before you see how blown out his eyes are. “Lean against the headboard.”
You scramble to move where he wants and stare at him, wide-eyed, as he creeps a hand under the sweatshirt and pushes it up to your stomach. You squirm. You’re wearing old and worn panties, but he doesn’t seem to mind — if he does, he doesn’t comment. “Spence?”
His heavy stare moves to your face. “Show me what you do when you think of me.”
“But I want you to touch me,” you whine, face burning as he spreads your legs further apart. “Please?” You soften your voice and smile at him sweetly.
“I will. Show me what you like first,”
“But…” your voice shakes with embarrassment and jitters, both excited and humiliated for him to see you like this. “What do I do?”
Spencer settles further, and you swallow at the sight of his hardening cock in his sweatpants. “Do whatever you want, sweetheart. If you show me what feels good, I can do it too.”
You sigh and nod, carefully guiding your hand towards your panties, scraping your nails over your stomach just hard enough to make you shudder. Spencer’s attention fills you with heat. Your fingers slip from teasing yourself over the fabric and into your underwear once his tongue darts out over his lips, tempting and so far away.
When you circle your clit, the muscles in your thighs twitch.
“You look so pretty,” he coos, and you whine in the back of your throat. “Do you just use your hands?”
“No, I— I use toys, sometimes,” your breath hitches and your hips stutter as you press with more force. “‘S not enough, Spence.”
“We’ll make it enough,” he moves to your side. “I want you to take your panties off.”
You hurriedly kick out of them, arching up into his touch as he slides your sweatshirt off too, lingering just a little too long on your breasts.
“I want you to do this,” he gropes your breast, flicking and twisting the nipple and kneading the soft flesh, “with your free hand while you get yourself ready for me.” You hum, hand moving up to cover where his had been.
It’s so much better, just from this. The scent of his cologne envelopes you in more heat, and your hips grind helplessly against your palm.
“Add a second finger,” he sounds far away, and you manage to open your eyes and look at him. His face is flushed at the peaks and, oh, he’s straining against his sweatpants enough that you see a wet spot. “Good, baby, you’re doing so well.” He whispers when you comply.
The sounds of your wetness fill the room, sloppy and needy, and it only furthers your desperation. Without his order, you add a third finger, back arching as the pressure builds in your stomach.
“Listen to yourself,” Spencer murmurs, voice filled with wonder. You’re gasping and heaving shaky breaths, cut with small moans. “So pretty.”
“Spencer—” you whine, voice breaking on the second half of his name. “Please.”
“Shh,” he soothes. “You’re doing so well. Let go for me,”
You see him palming himself over his sweats and that’s what does it for you, quivering as your orgasm crashes into you. You keep working yourself through it until you feel too sensitive.
“You looked so pretty,” he whispers, bending down to finally kiss you. It’s the hungriest his touch has ever been, barely restrained animalistic desire as he swallows your breaths and presses against you more urgently. It’s mind-numbing, the press of his lips to yours and the heat of him so close, how his breath fans over your cheek for just a moment before he dives back in for more.
“Spencer, Spencer,” you whisper between his kisses, whining at the rub of his shirt over your nipples as his chest flattens to yours.
“Hmm?” He doesn’t seem too interested in what you have to say, kissing the column of your throat and sucking a mark right below your ear. Your head lolls back as he soothes it with his tongue, and you paw restlessly at his shirt, wanting his flesh sticking to yours from the heat and sweat.
“Please… I need you,” Spencer smiles at that. “Do whatever you want, just… fuck, I need you.”
Spencer groans, lips crashing into yours again. He only pulls back to tug off his shirt, and you immediately run a hand over his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles tense under your touch.
He undresses hurriedly, rubs a soothing hand over the curve of your hips. “Can you spread your legs more for me?”
You do, whimpering at the sight of him so close to you. Every part of him is even more beautiful than you dreamed, and you want it so badly. Spencer groans softly as he presses into your warm heat, taps your thighs. “Now wrap them around me.”
When he’s fully flush to you, you realize he’s forced an angle into your g-spot, whimpering with each slow, powerful thrust into you.
“Spence, more, I can take it.”
“I know.” His brow furrows in concentration. “But I don’t know if I can, I’m—” he hisses when you clench around him. “Embarrassingly close. You feel so good.”
“Yeah?” You ask, breathless and high-pitched. “Bet you’ll be so pretty when you cum for me, Spence,”
He curses under his breath, picking up the pace. You’re fluttering around him, dangerously close to another orgasm. His brows are pinched, mouth dropped unconsciously, sweat rolling down his temple. You especially admire the veins in his arms, the way his muscles flex as he holds you down to the mattress.
“Spencer!” You cry and he moans in response, leaning down and locking his lips to yours. His hips stutter as you cum around him, and he fucks you through the aftershocks for both of you, whining high-pitched and quietly with each thrust as he twitches in you, spent.
“God, fuck,” Spencer gasps, trying to steady his breathing. “You’re so good.”
You whine and push him to pull out and get off of you before nuzzling against his chest. His fingers begin playing with your hair, almost mindlessly, soothing you as you come down. “Better than anything I imagined,” you mumble. “I’m going to jump you constantly, you know that?”
“As long as I don’t cum in like, two minutes, next time.” Spencer grumbles. “I feel like a teen again.”
“So I make you feel like a teenager in love?” You grin up at him, chin pressing into his chest. He pulls you up towards him and kisses you softly.
“You know you do.”
i dont like this one very much </3 sorry </3 as always not proofread
#my works#📚 sleepover#mdni#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader
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wet dreams - Zoro
🍃staring. Zoro Roronoa x afab!Reader
⚔️ preview. The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.
tw/cw. unprotected sex, wet dreams, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, praise, exhibitionism (sex outside in the Crowsnest), cum play/swallowing, fingering, mutual masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick zoro, fingering, overstim, mutual orgasm, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel.
🔫 rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I wc. 3.7k
⚔️ aus. One Piece Live Action, pwp, acquaintances to lovers, etc…
🍀 mlist + an. I showed Sanji and Mihawk some love so I figured I might as well adore my big three and make it a full set with Zoro.
Zoro is exhausted. His body feels heavy as he lumbers around the ship, his footfalls a little too loud on the wooden deck. His eyes are practically shutting on their own, but he resists the need to nap.
He's been having problems lately... when he sleeps.
While he's able to keep himself mostly in check around you during his waking hours, his mind - and body - have been betraying him in dreamland.
He's woken up five nights this week with the soft sounds of your moans etched into his memory and his pants ruined with the sticky truth about his feelings for you.
Naps had once been a time of rest, but Zoro has been anything but restful since Luffy convinced you to join the crew two weeks ago.
Zoro hates feeling like he's not in control. He hates the way you seem so real in his mind's eye, only for him to wake up and watch you acting completely indifferently toward him- as if he didn't just watch you go down on his cock in explicit detail- as if he didn't just try to fuck you so hard you couldn't even walk-
Being around you is something like torture. His tongue gets tied, his heart races, and he's unable to hold a conversation with you about anything unrelated to piracy... and even then, he stumbles over his words and gets frustrated with himself.
You're just too beautiful.
The swordsman feels like a teenager again. His body has never reacted like this to anyone, not even close. It's been years since he had wet dreams, and now they're coming in, hot, heavy, and nearly nightly.
He does his best to be the last to go to bed, out of fear that someone will walk in while he's sleeping and hear his problem, hell, he wouldn't be shocked if they could even see it.
It's not even midday and Zoro feels like death. It doesn't help that it's hot out. The wind feels practically nonexistent. Everything is stale, sweaty, and full of tension. Even Sanji, who usually dresses in formalwear, has stripped himself of his button-up, opting for an undershirt instead.
Then there's you. Your shorts don't leave much to the imagination, and Zoro has to tear his gaze off of you every time you get within his line of sight. His cock is practically throbbing in his pants anytime you're nearby- anytime your soft scent lingers in the air when you walk past.
"You look like shit."
Zoro sighs at Sanji's words, refusing to look at the chef who's come to lean on the rail next to him, staring out at the sea.
"I mean it. And I'm not trying to be a dick, but seriously moss head, you look like you need some rest," Sanji presses on. "When was the last time you had one of your famous Roronoa naps?"
"I wasn't aware they were famous," Zoro sighs, this conversation is making him even more tired.
"We all know you get a little scratchy without your beauty sleep," Sanji smirks. "Go on, get some rest. It's a shit day, and it will be even more shit if you're in a bad mood. I'll wake you up for dinner."
Usually, Zoro wouldn't do anything Sanji suggests, he wouldn't even entertain it- but the idea of a nap is having a visceral effect on him. He's reminded of the exhaustion that's overtaken him, and the harsh sun is only making things worse.
Zoro lets out a deep breath. "I guess I could use a little shut-eye."
You let out a loud whimper as Zoro drags his tongue across your neck, holding you close on the deck of the ship. Above, the stars are twinkling, but to the swordsman, all that matters is you. He can hardly see anything else, his mind completely blank except for the feeling of your hand stroking his cock.
"I need more," you tell him, applying just the right amount of pressure.
He's tried dissuading you from sucking his cock, but you're absolutely insatiable for him. Stroking isn't enough, and the promise of filling you up all nice and snug doesn't satisfy you either- no, you want him in your mouth, and you're very verbal about it.
Who is Zoro to deny you?
With a sigh, he agrees, and you sink to your knees immediately.
God, you look beautiful like this.
Your thumb strokes the head of his cock, rubbing through precum as you bring your mouth closer.
You're always a bit of a tease, licking at him gently, pumping his shaft. Zoro can't help but release a small groan, eyes fixed on you, waiting.
When you finally take him into your mouth, Zoro moans, his head lolling back as he enjoys the feeling.
"That's it, angel," he tells you, reaching down to grab at your head, helping you find a rhythm. "Just like that."
You take him so deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat much too easily. The feeling of you choking around him has Zoro's abdomen clenching, and a familiar sensation is growing in his balls-
It's as if you can read his mind, your hand snaking up to massage his most sensitive area while you continue practically gagging yourself on his cock.
The sound is absolutely obscene, and Zoro's never heard anything so pretty.
"If you keep sucking like that, I'm going to cum," he warns you, wanting to hold out to finish in your perfect, needy little cunt-
The way you suck on him even harder makes Zoro think you want him to cum. You want him to release down your throat, want to swallow him up like the good girl you are.
Again, who is Zoro to deny you?
"Fuck, angel," he groans, orgasm rising even faster. "You're always so good for me."
You whimper loudly around his cock, stroking your tongue along the vein that runs the underside of his length while squeezing his balls, and that's all it takes for him to cum.
He lets out a grunt as he shoots his load down your awaiting throat, his brows knitted together in concentration and something close to overstimulation. He whispers your name, over and over like a mantra while you suck him dry, eager for every single drop he can give- you're his greedy little angel, and he loves you with every fiber of his being.
You pull off of him when he's done, staring up at him with eyes that reflect the stars above. Then, you stick out your tongue, proving to him that you'd swallowed all he had to give.
Zoro can't help but reach for you, lifting you back onto your feet so he can grab your face and press his lips against yours eagerly.
He treasures the moments you're in his arms, and there's something so satisfying about the salty taste on your tongue-
"Dinner!"
Zoro sits up so fast he nearly falls out of his hammock. His heart is thundering in his chest, and when his eyes quickly dart to the door, he sees that Sanji hadn't bothered to enter, only called out a word of warning.
Swallowing thickly, Zoro looks down at his pants. He can feel his cum, hot and sticky against his skin, his half-chubbed length angrily confined by pants.
Zoro's not sure who's more upset about being woken up from his dream, himself, or his cock.
Luffy has already gone through half the food by the time Zoro saunters into the dining area. The swordsman's eyes are downcast while he takes a seat next to the captain, and you're kind of glad for that- you want to watch him, but you doubt you'd be able to make eye contact with him right now.
Your skin tingles with the forbidden knowledge that you now have. Your mind keeps replaying the scene you'd walked in on not half an hour ago; Zoro, asleep, his brows knitted together, your name on his lips.
You hadn't stayed long upon finding him in that state, your skin too hot with the realization of what you'd just witnessed, and now, that fevered sensation returns.
You've always had a bit of a crush on Zoro, but you'd never in your wildest dreams imagined that it could be returned. Out of everyone on the ship, Zoro interacts with you the least. He practically avoids you, and you've just spent two weeks thinking he doesn't even like you-
No, this changes everything.
The man with green hair lifts his gaze, and your eyes meet momentarily, only for you to look away, skin flaring again. Your heart is practically beating out of your ribcage, and you can feel your panties sticking uncomfortably to your core.
You'll have to do something about this. You're not sure what- but... you definitely can't go much longer with this kind of unresolved tension. One dinner with a dripping pussy is enough.
You decide you'll have to confront Zoro, and something tells you that you'll thank God for doing so.
Once everyone is asleep, you slowly tiptoe out of the sleeping quarters. Zoro has been staying up late, keeping watch in the Crowsnest, and you feel like that's a perfect place to talk with him. There's no way he can escape... unless he jumps into the ocean and risks his life- but you don't think it will come to that... or at least, you hope it doesn't.
Carefully climbing the ladder, you think of all the things you can say to him. You're not sure where to even begin, and as you make it to the top, poking your head through the manhole to stare at Zoro's broad shoulders, all the words you'd planned slip your mind.
He hasn't noticed you yet, and it takes closing the ladder cover for him to finally hear you, whipping around with his hand reaching for one of his blades.
Zoro freezes. You both do.
Then his hand drops to his side. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought..." you bite at your lip, "I thought you might want some company."
He gives you a quick once over, then turns to look out at the sea again. "I'm good."
"Why do you act like you hate me so much?" you sigh, ignoring his dismissal and moving to join him.
"I don't act like I hate you."
"You hardly talk to me."
"I'm not a big talker."
You let out another exasperated sigh. There's some truth in what he's just said. "Then I'll talk."
"Go ahead."
Staring out at the sea, you're once again at a loss for what to say. After a few moments of silence, you decide to just... put it all on the table. "I walked in while you were napping earlier."
Zoro goes rigid next to you.
"What were you dreaming about?"
He's quiet, then he turns to look at you. "Sword fighting."
"I didn't think you'd actually lie to me," you frown.
"Who says I'm lying?"
"I just- I don't think sword fighting would lead to you moaning my name over and over."
Zoro looks out at the sea again. "You must think I'm some kind of pervert."
"Trust me, I don't," you assure him. "I'm kind of curious about what we were doing in your dream."
He sneaks a glance at you, and there's a hint of a smile that curls onto his pretty lips. "Yeah?"
You nod. "Maybe... maybe I've been having 'sword fighting' dreams too. We could... compare notes, or something."
Zoro lets out a laugh, shaking his head. The chuckle dies down into a groan. "Fuck." He grips the railing tighter, taking a deep breath. "You really wanna know what we were doing in my dream?"
"Yes, please."
The swordsman turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were down on your knees, sucking the fucking soul out of my cock."
If your panties hadn't been ruined at dinner, they're definitely ruined now. "I was?"
"Uh huh. You were begging for it. Begging for every last drop."
Your mouth practically waters at the idea. "And did you give it to me?"
"Of course I did," he says softly, scanning your face. "How could I not?"
"Should we..." Your skin heats at the words about to come out of your mouth, "Can we make that dream real?"
Zoro sucks in a shaky breath. "I think I have a better idea."
"A better idea than me sucking your cock?" You're shocked.
"You're always so good to me in my dreams, maybe I want to be good to you."
Your pussy throbs at the insinuation of what he's saying. Most men would jump at the chance to have your mouth around them, but it looks like tonight, the swordsman wants to be the one pleasuring you-
He's just like the Zoro from your wet dreams, and you have a suspicion that when it gets down to it, he'll be even better.
You can't help yourself any longer, you practically launch your body at him, throwing your arms around his strong shoulders while his hands catch you. Your lips meet as if it's the most natural thing in the world, a soft groan escaping him when you swipe your tongue across his mouth, already eager for entrance.
The kiss deepens, and his hands grip you tighter, pulling you flush to his chest. It feels absolutely insane to be actually doing this in your waking hours- nothing your mind could conjure up compares to the real Zoro-
You can feel his cock already pressing against your hip and it makes you whine loudly, shoving your hand between your bodies to cup him through his pants. He's as big as you imagined he would be, and your pussy flutters with interest.
"Zoro-" you whimper, already needing more.
You've been waiting too long for this, for him-
He groans. "Say that again."
One of his hands joins yours between your bodies, but his slips under the waistband of your shorts, deft fingers rubbing you through your panties.
"Fuck, angel, you're already soaked-"
"Zoro!" you moan, louder this time.
"Tell me you want my fingers."
"God, I need them," you gasp when he leans in, pressing kisses and tracing his tongue along your throat. "I need you inside of me- any of you, I just- I need you!"
"Good girl," he says smoothly, pushing your panties to the side.
His fingers make contact with your dripping cunt, and he teases your pussy lips, just dipping inside enough to coat his skin before he circles your clit.
You cry out, squeezing his cock harder-
"Enough of that," Zoro practically slaps your hand away from him. "Tonight is about you. Let it be about you."
"Fuck, you're too nice to me-"
"Trust me, you deserve it." His fingers sink into your pussy and you moan loudly, leaning forward to begin peppering his own throat in kisses. You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he begins pumping his digits in and out of your wet core.
You can already hear yourself- the sick squelching of your pussy as he works you open. His palm rubs against your clit, creating a delightful pressure that has your legs shaking and your toes curling.
"You sound so pretty."
Who knew he'd be such a sweet talker.
In the exhibitionistic privacy of the Crowsnest, with the crew sleeping soundly below, Zoro is showing you his true colors, and you couldn't be happier.
No one has touched you like this in too long- but then again, has anyone ever actually touched you like this?
You can't believe how close you already are to cumming. Your skin tingles and you moan louder against his neck, moving your mouth up to suckle on his earlobe.
Zoro groans, and the sound goes straight to your aching core.
"Close already?"
All you can manage is a nod, your eyes closing as you focus on the pleasure of his fingers pumping into your wet hole. "Please-"
"You can cum for me," he tells you. "I wanna hear it."
You can hardly even stand on your own. If it weren't for his strong form, steady under your grip, you're sure you'd be falling. His free palm is on the small of your back, keeping you snug to his front while his fingers work you closer and closer-
"Zoro," you whimper again, feeling tears in your eyes from how tight the coil in your stomach has grown.
"Be a good girl and let go for me. Come on, I know you can do it."
You let out a strangled half sob as your high slams into you. Your entire body tingles with electric energy as your core clamps onto his fingers, which continue inside of you, working you through your orgasm. You shake against him, digging your nails into his shoulders while you whimper and moan, lips pressed to his throat.
"That's it," he praises you, a steady guide through one of the most intense orgasms of your life.
You nearly black out, only for his fingers to slow inside of you, drawing you back into your body. Zoro removes his hand from your pants, and you listen to him suck his digits clean, letting out a small groan at your taste.
"Can I lay you down?" he asks next, tone gentle.
You nod, unable to speak. Zoro softly helps you onto the wooden floor of the small Crowsnest, staring at you with dark eyes that seem to sparkle in the moonlight.
He slowly undresses you, watching as you lift your hips to help him remove your shorts. Your shirt and bra are next, and he's careful to set them nearby before removing his own clothing.
"You still want to do this?" he asks.
"There's nothing I want more."
Once he's naked, Zoro gets between your thighs, holding himself over you while you wrap your legs around his hips. You grab at his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss.
His hard cock is too enticing for you not to touch, and soon, you're gripping it while your tongues battle. His moans are music to your ears, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his length to smear his skin with precum.
"You know-" he swallows thickly. "After today, after watching you cum on my fingers, I might not last that long."
"That's okay, I won't last long either." Your pussy is already aching for him again, and from the way his cock twitches in your hand, you know he's as into this as you are. "Just fuck me Zoro, please."
He kisses you deeply, allowing you to guide him to your wet hole.
He's big, but you're soaked, and slipping into you is much too easy. He sinks all the way in, his hips flush to yours when he bottoms out. You moan into each other's mouths, and you grab his face, wanting to keep his lips on yours as he begins to thrust into you.
"Fuck, Zoro, it's so good-" you whimper, pussy clenching tightly around him to earn another sound of appreciation.
"Angel, you're fucking perfect," he agrees, pace already quickening.
The sound of skin on skin fills the night air. You open your eyes, looking up at the moon and stars. It feels natural to be with him like this, under the watchful eye of the heavens-
Your nails dig into his shoulders when his hand adjusts your thigh on his hip. He drives deeper into your wet hole, and each thrust has your head spinning.
You can feel him everywhere, and it's the first time you've ever really felt full, complete.
"Zoro," you whisper, gaining his attention as you draw his lips back to your own.
You get lost in him. His cock is filling you perfectly, and his lips feel like they were made to be on your own.
That familiar tightening in your lower abdomen builds much too fast, and each thrust has Zoro grunting and moaning even louder-
"Fuck, angel, I'm close-"
"Me too," you assure him, pressing your forehead to his own and staring into his eyes. "You'll cum with me, right?"
He can only nod as you slip your hand between your bodies, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit-
Your core tightens even more around his thick length and Zoro lets out a deep moan-
"Shit," he mutters, "where should I cum?"
"Inside," you insist. "Cum inside, I'm on birth control, please, I want it, I need it-"
Zoro's hand balls into a fist on the wooden plank by your head, and he groans. "Can't wait-"
"Me neither," you whisper, eyes closing as the feeling ravages your body, "Cumming-"
Zoro buries his face against your throat as you both reach your highs. You can feel him painting your inner walls, making you even more full than you already are with his cock- it's the most delightful feeling.
Your toes curl as he fucks you through it all, his pace even harder than before, if not a bit erratic. The sounds he's making will be something you never forget, and you cling to him like a lifeline, tracing his muscular shoulders and gasping-
It's as if your orgasm lasts ages, and when Zoro's motions finally begin to slow, it's hard to even catch your breath.
He begins to press kisses along your throat again, working his way to your ear, and then your mouth.
You can't help but grin into each soft press of his lips against your own.
"You look happy," he muses.
"That's because I am. Are you happy?"
"Very."
Your smile widens. "So we're done not talking and pretending to be indifferent to each other, right?"
"Completely done."
"Good, because I don't think I could go back to that."
"Me neither," he admits.
"I like you a lot."
Zoro presses another soft kiss to your lips, his pretty eyes twinkling with emotion in a way you've never seen from the swordsman. "I like you too."
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Next Door to Love
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Neighbor AU)
Word Count: 3,188
Summary: When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.
Author's Note: Because why not! Moving in across the hall from Bucky would be a dream, one I'd like to live out please and ty haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰
Warnings: fun and flirty, teasing and tension, a curse or two or three, Bucky is impatient and cocky in the best way!
Last week
Your tired, fuzzy slipper clad feet drag along the floor as you trudge toward the door across the hall. You’re hoping someone is home. Someone who has sugar. Anyone.
You let out a quick exhale and lift your chin before rapping your knuckles against the wood. A frown starts to mar your forehead when you hear a sleepy mumble come from inside the apartment.
Shit, fuck, shit you woke him up. It’s a guy. Of course it is…because you don’t look like you just rolled off your mattress that still has no bedframe and tripped over twenty-five unopened boxes…etc, etc.
The door swings open revealing said guy…a hot-as-fuck guy. Naked, except for his unbuttoned jeans.
Oh hi neighbor.
Before you can stop it, your gaze instantly drops to the dark trail of hair below his bellybutton, framed by a set of abs that you could dry your laundry on.
You reel yourself in and lift your eyes to his which does nothing to help your declining focus. His hair is perfectly mussed from sleep, his chiseled jaw shadowed with dark stubble and his incredible blue eyes lined by dark lashes.
His hands are planted on either side of the door frame and with every passing second you’re mesmerized by flexing muscles in his chest and arms.
He drags a lazy hand through his unkept hair and smiles. Knowingly. Smugly.
“Can I help you doll?”
“Um…hi. I’m sorry if I woke you…it’s just…I moved in yesterday and haven’t gone shopping yet and I have no sugar. I need my coffee.”
“So you’re my new neighbor,” he croons. “Lucky me.”
You audibly swallow and hold up your coffee cup pleadingly.
“I’ll take care of ya doll.”
With a wink he holds up one long finger.
“Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with that sugar.”
He spins on his heel and walks toward what you’re guessing is the kitchen and it should be considering your apartments are mirror images of each other.
You step inside and stand by the door to wait. You hear him rummaging around and then hear a crash followed by grumbled curses.
Before you can react the cutest white cat saunters out of the kitchen, looking quite proud with his fluffy tail held high and blue eyes unblinking.
“That’s Alpine,” he yells from the other room. “Don’t let his cuteness fool you. He’s a menace!”
You let your laughter ring out and then kneel down to give Alpine some scratches. The cat instantly warms up to you and presses himself against your leg, purring loudly.
“Ah, of course he likes you.”
You look up at the sound of your neighbors voice and reluctantly give up petting Alpine to take the offering of sugar.
“Thank you….?”
“Bucky,” he finishes for you. “Name’s Bucky.”
“Thanks Bucky,” you say with a smile and then introduce yourself.
You look back down at the cat that is now circling between Bucky’s bare feet. “And Alpine really is cute. I can’t imagine he’s a menace.”
“Just wait until you get to know him,” Bucky says. “Can I get you anything else doll?”
“No. Thank you and again I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“No problem at all. I had a late night at the office and I was just being lazy. If you need anything else just come by. Anytime.”
His lips turn up in a boyish grin and he winks again.
You can feel his eyes on you as you turn and walk out into the hall and toward your apartment. Just as you push your door open you look over your shoulder and catch him staring, his teeth dug deep into his bottom lip.
The knock at your door startles you from your unpacking trance and from your spot on the floor, surrounded by open boxes and a mess of things, you ask, “who is it?”
“It’s Bucky…and I have food.”
Your smile is impossible to hide and you shout back, “come in!”
Bucky appears in the doorway with a pizza box.
“Hiya doll face,” he chimes. “I figured you’d need some fuel.”
You drag yourself out of the mess on the floor and hop up onto the edge of the counter.
“Thanks Bucky. I really appreciate it, but you’re spoiling me. What is it now…the third time this week you’re feeding me?”
He hands you a slice and then stands there, watching while you take a bite.
“And why not? You need to eat and I love to eat, might as well do it together!”
You laugh through your bite. “Then what motivated you to help with my furniture?”
He shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza, shoving half into his mouth before he answers.
“Perfect opportunity to show off my muscles.”
He waggles his brows suggestively and flexes a bicep.
“Double win for me,” you admit, licking your lips. “How will I ever repay you.”
He remains quiet for several moments while he studies you then asks, “how about a real dinner?”
“Pizza is the realest dinner there is!” you state with a mouthful.
“Let me take you out. For something other than pizza.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Would you say yes if I were?”
Your legs swing back and forth at the knee as you finish your bite and then place your slice of pizza down. You reach over the box and grab the marker you left out on the counter, placing it between your lips.
Watching him from under your lashes, you take his arm and roll up the sleeve of his Henley and when your fingertips make contact with the sensitive skin on his underside of his forearm you can feel his muscles tighten.
Your mouth curves around the marker at his reaction and you pluck it from between your lips and start writing on his skin.
“Now you’ve got my number. Text me and we’ll pick a date for our date.”
“Thank you,” he says, leaning in close and dropping his eyes to your mouth.
Your lips part with your small gasp of air and when his thumb lifts to brush along the corner of your mouth you let out a rush of air.
“Sauce,” he states before he licks his finger clean, his gaze locked on yours.
You nod as he steps back and pulls out his phone to dial your number on his arm. Your phone rings and he says, “and now you’ve got mine.”
You spend the rest of your weekend unpacking and doing errands, running into Bucky only once in a frantic rush of laundry. He offers to help but you know if you let him you’ll become distracted and never get anything done. The two of you text back and forth, deciding on Saturday for your official date. No pizza involved.
The next morning you get another text from him.
“Morning doll face. Don’t forget an umbrella. Gonna rain later today.”
“Are you the weather man now?” you message back, smiling at your phone.
“Nah. Just a friendly neighbor.”
“Did you tell everyone in the building about the rain and remind them to bring an umbrella.”
“Just you…”
“Thanks, but I’m already half way to work sans umbrella.”
“Damn it. I knew I should have texted earlier. Now if you get caught in the rain it’ll be all my fault.”
“Hardly! I should have checked the weather. Can’t rely on you for everything can I?”
He sends a wink face.
“Is it Saturday yet?”
“Still only Monday morning. What’s Saturday?”
“Don’t tease me doll. I’ve been looking forward to this date since you showed up at my door lookin’ for sugar.”
“Have a good day Bucky.”
“You too doll…stay dry.”
You’re only two blocks from your apartment building when the sky opens up and the rain comes down in buckets. By the time you reach the doors you’re soaked through and cursing at yourself for forgetting an umbrella.
The door attendant lets you in with a sympathetic smile and as you’re sloshing past him and toward the elevator you hear Bucky’s voice.
“Oh doll. Look at you.”
He tugs his mail from the box and slams it shut, rushing toward you and taking your arm.
“Soaked,” you say sadly.
“I can see that,” he muses with a twitch of his perfect lips. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and dry.”
The elevator doors open and you step inside with a shiver. He immediately starts to pull your jacket from your shoulders.
“What are you doing?” you ask without stopping him.
“You have to get out of this jacket. I’m sure your shirt is….”
He stops speaking when his eyes catch sight of your white button down, soaked through so that you can see the lace of your bra outlined against the fabric.
“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes back to your face. “Here.”
He shrugs off his damp jacket and then takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.
“But it’ll get all wet,” you protest.
“Don’t care. You can’t walk out of the elevator like that.”
His jaw is set in a hard line as his fingers work over the scruff that lines it. The elevator dings at your floor and he takes your hand, leading you out and checking the hallway.
“Why are you looking around like that?” you ask.
He turns back to you and tugs you closer. “I don’t wanna anyone seeing you.”
“Why not?”
“Because then I’ll have to kill them,” he states.
“Someone is acting a little jealous,” you giggle.
“Yeah well…we haven’t even had our first date yet. Can’t have someone looking at what’s about to be mine.”
“Yours,” you breathe out, not even realizing you’re now standing in front of your apartment door.
With shaky fingers you start to remove his suit jacket but before you can he stops you with a hand on your wrist.
“Don’t doll. Just keep it for now.”
“But we’re at the door. I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, but if you take that off then I have to see you in your wet shirt again. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself if I do.”
“Control yourself how?” you ask in a breathy whisper.
He responds with a pained groan before his mouth meets yours and he has you pressed against the door.
Even though your shirt is soaked through and your skin is cold you can feel the warmth of his body seep into yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and he lifts one hand to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.
Your scrape your nails along his broad shoulders and he moans out your name.
“Fuck, I love having your hands on me.”
The desperation in his voice has you arching into him and you drop your head against the door, giving him access to trail his lips down your neck. Your fingers slide into his hair and tug at the soft strands. He growls into your skin and scrapes his teeth over your pulse point making you gasp his name.
“Oh I like that,” you whisper.
He does it again.
“You’re going to like everything I do to you doll face.”
His lips graze yours and he swallows your whimper, crowding you closer to the door before muttering out a curse and letting you both take a breath.
“Is it Saturday yet?” he asks, still breathless.
“Still Monday,” you answer, feeling just the same.
“Right,” he says, planting his hands on the door above your head and dropping his head forward.
A door down the hall opens and he pauses, straightening his body to hide your own. You both smile at the older lady who walks by with a questioning look.
When Bucky’s eyes return to you they drop to where he spread his jacket open to put his hands on you, your shirt sticking to your wet skin even more now.
He stares before reluctantly dragging his eyes up and taking the sides of the material and pulling them tightly around you.
You tremble.
“Still cold?” he asks, his eyes soft with worry.
“Hardly,” you answer and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“See you later Bucky.”
“I’m counting on it doll.”
You spend the rest of the week juggling your time between work, texting Bucky and sleeping. You’ve only seen him once since Monday evening and that was for five minutes when he caught you coming home again but this time he had his friend Steve with him and there was no chance for any kissing.
Saturday morning rolls around and you wake up to a text from him.
“It is finally Saturday or am I dreaming?”
“It’s really Saturday!”
“Thank fuck! Can we start our date now?”
“No…I have to do girly things and prepare.”
“What kinds of things….?”
“I’ll see you tonight Buck.”
You can almost hear his groan through the phone.
“I’ll be at your door at 7 sharp.”
Bucky knocks on your apartment door at exactly the same time your phone clock hits 7:00pm. You grin at your best friend Nat before she gets up and walks toward the door.
“Oh girl. He’s hot!” a muffled voice says from the other side.
It isn’t yours so Bucky assumes it’s your friend.
“He’s at least a nine.”
Bucky scoffs, muttering, “a nine?” quietly to himself.
“Hey, I can hear you in there. Are you gonna open the door?” he asks the unknown voice.
The door swings open to reveal a red head who looks him over with two scrutinizing green eyes.
“Hi,” he smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Bu…”
“Bucky,” she finishes. “I know who you are…question is…do you know who I am?”
“You must be Natasha,” Bucky answers with a smug smile.
“That’s right and I’m a black belt in jiu jitsu so you do anything I don’t like and I will end you.”
Bucky’s eyes light up and he watches Nat as she moves toward the kitchen.
“You almost ready doll face,” he yells, not taking his eyes off Nat in case she goes for a knife.
“I’m right here,” you say.
Bucky turns to find you standing right in front of him. His mouth drops open as his eyes sweep you up and down.
“This is where you say she looks amazing,” Nat admonishes from the kitchen, dangerously close to the knife rack.
However, Bucky’s eyes never leave you and when he steps into your space and wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, you let out a squeal of delight.
“You look fucking gorgeous,” he says, loud enough for Nat to hear, then whispers, only for your ears, “I want to rip this dress off you.”
Your lips spread into a sly smile. “We made the right choice Nat.”
“Of course we did,” she chimes. “Now go. I’ll lock up.”
“I’m so ready,” he says, ushering you toward the door, but not before turning to Nat, still in the kitchen eyeing him warily, and asking, “I’m good with a nine, but just out of curiosity, what did I lose a point for?”
“You’re really gonna make me say it in front of you?” Nat asks.
“I wanna hear it too Nat,” you say, raising an expectant and skeptical brow.
“You didn’t shave.”
He runs the free hand, the one not wrapped around your waist, over his jaw.
“I didn’t get any complaints earlier this week,” Bucky says, eyes now sparkling with mischief.
“He’s right Nat,” you add. “I like it.”
Nat rolls her eyes and shoos you away.
Once you’re safely in the elevator and away from prying eyes Bucky invades your space, plastering you against the cool metal wall and caging you there with his large body.
“It almost killed me to not be kissing you for the past five minutes,” he says against your lips.
When you press into him and slide your body along his it sucks the breath right out of his lungs and fills them with something else. Need.
The kiss pulls a throaty groan from him and his belt buckle digs into your skin, the muscles hidden beneath his clothes, pressing and flexing over the thin material of your dress.
The elevator door dings and begins to slide open, causing you to give his chest a gentle shove.
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks as he lifts a finger and traces your swollen lips.
“That would suck,” you reply. “I kind of like having you as a neighbor.”
After a delicious dinner at a roof top restaurant down town, Bucky walks you along the street, hand in hand, as you listen and laugh to his childhood stories about growing up in Brooklyn.
“Where are we going now?” you ask.
“It’s a surprise,” he says as he twirls you into his side and presses his fingers under your chin to steal a kiss.
As you get closer to your destination the bright lights sparkle and the smell of the ocean is carried on the warm breeze.
“Which bridge is that?” you ask with awe.
“The Brooklyn Bridge,” he tells you and grabs your hand to pull you along. “Come on. I have something to show you.”
When you reach the top of the look out he slides an arm around your waist and pulls your back to his chest.
“This is so beautiful Bucky,” you whisper.
He kisses your cheek and takes your chin between his fingers, turning your face up to his. “I always thought it was the most beautiful thing in the city…but not anymore.”
You’re thankful for his strong arms holding you up and after a sweet kiss you enjoy the view in comfortable silence for a few more minutes but his hands start to wander, soft and sure, and with each passing touch your body aches for more.
His warm breath fans across your neck and his arm moves lower until his hand grasps your hip and he pulls you back to feel the hardness between his legs.
You suck in a breath and fight the urge to move against him.
With a curse he pulls away and grabs your hand, dragging you toward the park under the bridge. The only lights come from the lit-up buildings across the street and when he finds a hidden spot he backs you against the cold stone but you’re too hot to care.
“Bucky,” you whisper as your hands roam over his broad chest.
His mouth brushes yours before he gently nips at your bottom lip.
“I can’t even keep my fucking hands off you long enough to bring you home,” he murmurs.
His fingers find the hem of your dress and he slides them under, slowly teasing the fabric higher until his hand brushes over the wetness on your panties.
“Please, Bucky,” you pant.
“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name like that,” he growls. “I need to get you home so I can hear you scream it for me.”
@hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @lizette50
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#neighbor!bucky#bucky barnes fanfictionn#bucky barnes x y/n#neighbor!bucky barnes#neighbor au#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x female reader#sebastian stan x reader#bucky x reader#neighbor!bucky x reader
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lads #1 - the first kiss
xavier.
it is a soft brushing of lips on lips, eyes closed — a moonless night, dark enough to cast your dreams like a handful of dice against the velvet sky — he prays as you shift against him, and like this, he can count the individual stars caught in your symphony of lashes; he wants to sink into your milkyway laughter as you fist your fingers in the front of his shirt and tug him closer, and then it is no longer a dream but a reality too good to be true because there, those are your lips — your lips against his and his against yours and there is too much breath and not enough skin; there is heat, and heat, and heat as it crests up his back and into his chest, his fingertips tingling as he reaches up to cup the bend of your jaw; it is you sighing into him, the taste of your smile on his tongue when he presses in and feels you gasp — when he pulls back, you are blushing, the darkness in your cheeks probably mirrored in his own, and he can’t help the way his gazes flickers from your eyes down to your lips, now pink and sweet and so — “did you… did you mean to do that?” you ask, a little breathless, and for the life of him, xavier wants to take you and shake you by your shoulders because how could you think he hadn’t meant it? when every single atom in his entire body is vibrating with the need to pull you in one more time; instead, he lilts his head to the side and sighs, “well, if you couldn’t tell that time — shall we give it another try?”
zayne.
you are in his bed. you are in his bed and the world is pressing in around him as he counts your breaths, watching the flicker of your eyes beneath your squeezed-tight eyelids but he humors you enough to reach out and trace a finger along your cheek just to watch your lashes flutter, your lips twitch and he can’t help the way his own lips stretch into a knowing grin, “you shouldn’t lie to your doctor, you know.” to which you make a vague, mumbling sound, but you don’t shift away and zayne feels the pulse gathering between you like it’s done so many times before, each time the feeling echoing against the last, stronger and stronger until it becomes something like a compulsion — “what would it take for you to go to sleep properly?” he asks, his voice hoarse as you press your lips, sinking deeper into his sheets, finally peering up at him with those inescapable eyes. “maybe… a kiss goodnight?” he feels his breath catch in his throat at your words, not because he thought he’d never hear them, but because he never thought it would happen like this — how times had he imagined it throughout the years? how many mundane and dramatic moments playing out in the depths of his most secret imagination? but then again, he thinks that this is perfect too, because it’s you — so how could it not be. he bends down, tugging your chin towards him as he presses his lips firmly to yours, reveling in the small, surprised noise you make in the back of your throat; he tries not to think about the thin sheets separating your body and his, or the way your fingers are already tangling in his hair and pulling him close; he forces himself to pull away, swallowing hard. “there.” you blink dolefully up at him and pout, “y-you can’t expect me to go to sleep after a kiss like that!” he cocks an eyebrow, “can’t i? i kept my end of the deal, and now you have to keep yours.” but he allows himself a small smile as you huff and twist away from him, mumbling to yourself even as he shifts closer, pulling you into his chest as he closes his eyes and sleeps.
rafayel.
all he can think is that it’s different from the first time, because the first time, it hadn’t been a real kiss — even though it’d been real enough for him to lose his heart, real enough for it to have been lost for years and years and years — because the first time, it had been so, so innocent — and it’d been done over linked pinkies and a promise, him leaning down to kiss the base of his thumb and you, leaning down to mirror the movement — a promise, sealed with a kiss. because promises sealed with kisses can never be broken. but… you’d broken it, hadn’t you? or maybe he had — but something had broken, and it took him a long, long time to realize that it just might’ve been his heart. but this time, you’re both older, and you hadn’t waited, you’d stood up on your tip toes and pressed your lips right against his, and it was all he could do to close his eyes and kiss you back — distantly, he feels something breaking inside him, and he wonders — again — if it’s his heart, and he wonders, then, if a heart could be broken twice, and if the second time might be a mending instead. he leans down and crushes you to him, all propriety forgotten as he groans, desperate for more of that friction, more of that heat — he sinks his fingers into your waterfall hair and cradles your head against his, and he loses himself in the kiss. in a promise made, and unmade, and made again. when you finally pull away, he licks his lips and smirks, “took you long enough.” and he’s more pleased than he’ll ever admit to see the color flushing into your cheeks, and serves you right he thinks — but as you lace your fingers between his and tug him behind you towards the main street, asking if he wants to come over for dinner and the next episode of that one show you guys had started together, he thinks that even a heart broken twice could find its way to forgiveness — if only after another kiss or two.
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#loe and deepspace x you#love and deepspace fanfic#love and deepspace fluff#lad xavier#lad zayne#lad rafayel#x reader#xavier x you#zayne x you#rafayel x you#xavier x reader#rafayel x reader#zayne x reader#lad xavier fluff#lad zayne fluff#lad rafayle fluff#floofy floof floof#daydreams#going back to my ROOTS of doing daydreams LOL i rmbr when these started in the 1d fandom oh my god#and to think id still be writing them like years and years later HAHAHA#ALSO LIKE. xavier is a lil shit sometimes and i appreciate that#i love that for him#anyway. the brainrot continues
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need a sub chris asap. giving you creative freedom but major sub/mommy vibes
wet dreams //sub!chris
summary: you decide to please your boyfriend when you see him experiencing a sex dream. sub!chris. mommy kink. male!receiving. use of vibrator on male.
Sleepovers at my boyfriend's house are nightly at this point. I practically live with him. I have a toothbrush here, a caddy in the shower filled with my necessities, a drawer of extra clothes, a few pairs of shoes, an extra charger. There’s even some decor that is mine.
People are often surprised to find that me and Chris don’t technically live together. I just spend so much time with him, and he insists that he sleeps better with someone else in his bed. I have been told by his brothers that he’s tired of him trying to cuddle them while he sleeps. I’m here to fill that void.
I woke up earlier than him today. That’s never surprising. I may not be a true early bird, but compared to Chris, I’m up at the crack of dawn.
I put on some clean clothes, walking around the bedroom and watching him stir in his sleep. His mouth started out parted slightly, but every so often, a soft gasp left his lips and forced them open more. When his mouth wasn’t open, his lips were pressed together.
I found myself watching him as he made subtle sounds. As time went on, he turned to his stomach, and my stomach dropped, knowing what was happening.
His soft moans turned into low grunts as he started pressing his crotch into the mattress, his hips shifting ever so slightly. His toned back flexed as he moved, his briefs tight around his ass, and I only imagined the sight of his dick begging to be freed from the fabric.
I swallowed harshly as I watched him, standing in shock. I knew he had sex dreams. He had told me about them before. He had them frequently. Maybe it was a guy thing, or maybe he was just horny all the time. I just had never seen it happen before my eyes.
I made small, careful steps to the bed, making sure not to wake him. I want to see how far this will go.
A sharp gasp left his throat, making me freeze.
“Fuck,” he muttered before turning his head to the other side. His hand clutched a pillow, gripping it tightly. I was dying to know what he was dreaming of. What we were doing. How we were touching each other.
I was struggling to keep myself together as I watched. I lowered myself to the bed, sitting down softly and moving next to him, watching him up close.
His forehead had a small bead of sweat dripping from his skin. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut as his desperate sounds of pleasure seeped out of him.
It went on for a few minutes before he turned onto his back. He was still asleep, but his dick was throbbing inside of his underwear. I could see it twitch as his dream went on. A wet spot lingered on the gray fabric, growing by the second.
An element of our sex life that had been discussed was the idea of consensual non-consent – an idea of us being more than okay with the other person waking us up with a sexual act. I had always been hesitant about the idea. I didn’t want to wake him up and have him complain about being too tired throughout the day just so we could have sex.
But this was different. He was obviously desperate. He was practically fucking the mattress begging for a release. I had to help him. He would want me to.
I carefully traced my fingers on his left thigh, feeling the soft hair that decorated his tan skin. He twitched a little more in his sleep, and his sounds of approval were enough to encourage me to go all the way.
I placed my hand over his bulge, the wetness seeping through finding my palm. My heart is racing as I wait for him to wake up. He lets out a gasp at my touch, bucking his hips harshly.
He’s still asleep.
A few minutes passed. My hand continued to stroke his dick as his moans grew. I expected him to wake up at this point, but everything I am doing is probably just pushing into his dream. He has no reason to wake up because he is getting everything he needs while he sleeps.
A loud moan leaves his mouth, making my eyes shoot open. I carefully peel down the waistband of his underwear, watching as his tip leaks. I spread some of the pre-cum around his tip with my thumb before licking over his slit.
“Please, baby,” he whines. “Please.”
I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his length. As his moans grow, I shake him by his shoulder while I suck him off, waking him up so he can bask in what’s real rather than his dream.
His eyes open softly. He looks groggy and confused momentarily before he realizes that this pleasure is real. His head falls backwards and he lifts a hand to my hair, pushing my head down on him.
“Fuck baby,” he groans.
“What were you dreaming about?” I ask, pulling off of him and stroking him instead.
He shakes his head. “Don’t stop.”
I grip his balls, making him gasp. “Tell me.”
“You were bouncing on my dick,” he breathes out. “You held a vibrator to your clit. You were writhing on me, clenching like crazy. But every so often the vibrator would hit my tip. It was so much.”
I’ve never used a vibrator on him, but now I’m more tempted than ever.
“You want me to use a vibrator on you?” I ask.
His eyes widen. He nods frantically.
I spit on his tip. “Are you gonna speak or act pathetic for me and struggle to get words out?”
“I’m gonna talk,” he promises. “Please. I wanna try it.”
I nod, sucking his tip a little bit more before I lean over to my nightstand and grab my bullet vibrator. My theory is that starting small would be a better option for him before we use one that is bigger and could work on his entire dick. I want him to feel comfortable with this first.
His dick is twitching relentlessly as he waits for my touch again. I love seeing him like this. He’s always dominant during sex. I never get to see the submissive side of him. It makes me feel powerful, and I crave control of him in this area of our lives.
I turn on the vibrator, letting him hear the sound of the buzzing so he can decide if he wants to continue. His stomach heaves.
“Please,” he whines. “I need you to touch me.”
“Yeah?” I tease. I lick a stripe up his cock again. “How bad do you need me to touch you?”
“So bad.”
I lean my body over him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his mouth. “You gonna be a good boy for me?”
Something in his eyes changes.
“I’ll be so good for you, mommy.”
Oh hell.
I slide back down to his dick, jerking him slowly with one hand before I trace the vibrator around his tip. His hips buck hard before I press them back down to the bed.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn.
“I’m sorry,” he cries out. “Ohhhh fuck. Please. It’s so good. Oh my god.”
The sounds he’s making are unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him. He’s whining, whimpering, panting, begging for me. It’s taking everything in me to continue to tease him, wanting to edge him from his high.
“I can’t- Fuck. I need to cum,” he says. “Please. Please, I need to.”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
He lets out a desperate cry. “Please!”
“Gotta be a good boy, baby,” I remind him.
“I’m being so good,” he whimpers. His eyes are full, tears almost pouring out as he struggles to hold back.
“I know baby,” I nod, knowing he needs that praise and validation right now. I drag the vibrator up and down his cock before pressing it to his tip again as I stroke the area.
“Fuck!” he shouts, his hips raising again with no control as he cums, catching us both by surprise. My eyes widen before I look up, meeting his eyes. He’s shaking his head like crazy as he continues to cum. “I’m so sorry, mommy. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please.”
I let him finish before I remove the vibrator, tossing it to the floor. I press soft kisses from his stomach up to his lips before peppering his face in kisses. “It’s okay, baby. Did so good for me, hm?”
He nods breathlessly. “Thank you for waking me up, but now I really need to go back to sleep. I’m exhausted.”
I smile. “Let’s go shower and get back in bed, okay?”
He nods, pressing a tired kiss to my cheek before pulling himself out of bed.
@freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#strawberrysturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you
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imagine kazuscara breeding you
smut. afab reader, threesome, cockwarming, fingering, nipple play, praising, overstimulation, breeding, mention of pregnancy, not proofread.
happy late birthday, scarawrmooche. please let me be your bride again this year <3. also, if you think this fic is not good, then it's y'all faults for voting kazuscara threesome ���.
it was a cold night, another night where you straddled on kazuha's lap, cockwarming him as he read you a lewd scene from your favourite novel. swallowing your saliva, your eyes were wide, and ears perked up as you listened attentively to him. it hadn't gone to the peak part, yet you could already feel your cheeks heating up from the scene. especially when you're imagining both scaramouche and kazuha fucking you mercilessly just like from the novel.
your dream soon turned out to be true as you found yourself laying naked on the double king-sized bed with both men by your sides, kazuha cupping your perfect breast in his hand, teasing the sensitive nipple with his thumb while scaramouche moved closer behind you, his erection pressing against your back as he reached down to grasp your other breast firmly, massaging it softly while stroking your cunt slowly with his free hand.
it was scaramouche's idea if you're wondering. when he saw the sight of you sitting on his very pretty husband, kazuha's lap while cockwarming him, his cock immediately straightened and stand up straight. with you fully naked, your plump breasts and your tasty cunt showing like that, let me just say it was a great idea for him to breed you right now and then. kazuha was a fan of saying no if he was asked to breed you. and letting scaramouche fuck you while he sleep alone? there's no way he would allow that.
your soft whimpers were muffled as kazuha pulled you and pressed his lips against yours, his tongue invading your mouth. your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you felt both of your breasts being squeezed, your nipples hardening immediately when they pinched the soft buds. the sheet underneath you was slowly getting wet as your juices coated it all while scaramouche glided his fingers along your cunt. you rolled your hips slightly, unable to control yourself as you wanted more and more.
kazuha pulled away from your lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked and licked at your bottom lip. he looked like he was trying to keep himself from laughing or grinning too much. the way he looked at you made it clear that he found you irresistible and couldn't help but feel amused by your innocence and cuteness. as he pulled away from your mouth, he let go of your breast and grabbed your thigh, pulling it open just enough for him to slide two fingers inside you, causing a soft gasp to leave your lips. he started to fuck you with his fingers. "my cute little wife, you're so beautiful when you're like this." he whispered seductively while scaramouche continued to play with your breast and cunt. your legs were spread wide, making it easy for him to access every part of you.
kazuha groaned, feeling the warmth of your insides wrap around his finger as he stroked your g-spot. meanwhile, scaramouche inched his lips closer to your breast to latch on it. he took one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling on it hungrily and used his index finger to stimulate your clit. you could feel their combined efforts pushing you higher and higher, each touch causing more and more pleasure to rush through your body.
scaramouche bit down gently on your nipple, causing you to whimper. he then released your nipple and began to lick and suck at the skin around it, his tongue swirling around your areola before he took your entire nipple into his mouth again, sucking on it while he rubbed your clit faster. kazuha was also speeding up his fingers as he thrusted his fingers inside your cunt. it was a sensory overload for you, and all you could do was pant and moan as you felt their hands and tongues on your body pleasuring and fucking you.
you were writhing underneath them, your breath coming in short gasps as they pushed you closer and closer to orgasm. your walls clamped tight around kazuha's fingers as your orgasm washed over you, your body shaking followed by a loud cry. you panted heavily when you finally calmed down from your orgasm. kazuha pulled his fingers out of you but scaramouche was still rubbing your clit and sucking on your nipple. "s– scara..." needily, you moaned but were quickly quiet down as he shushed you gently. "be a good wife and shut your pretty lips for us, will you?"
scaramouche grinned wickedly as he leaned back, pulling your legs up so that your legs were wrapped tight around his waist. he grabbed your hips and lifted you slightly, guiding your dripping pussy to his cock. with a strong push, he impaled himself inside of you, groaning at the feeling of your wet heat surrounding him as you cried out in bliss. your walls were wrapped tightly around his cock. so tight, so good... you tilted your head back in pleasure as a bead of sweat formed on your forehead.
he started to move slowly, savouring the sensation of being inside of you. "oh god... i love you so much," he whispered, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. kazuha watched as scaramouche took control, lovingly pushing his cock into you while he kissed you deeply. he moved his hands to your breasts, squeezing them and massaging your sensitive nipples. it didn't take long for him to feel his own arousal growing, and he decided not to wait any longer.
without hesitation, he grabbed hold of your hips and pushed his length into you from behind with a loud groan, stretching your walls apart, causing another loud cry to escape your lips. your nails dugged into scaramouche's, back, scratching on his skin as you get sandwiched between them, fucking relentlessly into your holes. "you're so tight, so good for us. such a good wife you are." kazuha muttered before biting on your neck, leaving red and purple marks.
puddle of tears pricked in your eyes as drool streamed down in the corner of your lips, falling onto scaramouche's neck. at that moment, you couldn't think of anything. they fucked you until you get hazy, too overwhelmed with pleasure. the sound of kazuha's voice praising you from behind were quick to drown into your mind as your eyes rolled back to the back of your head until you could see stars.
the air was thick with lust and desire as your body shook with pleasure while they continued to thrust into you. the sound of flesh meeting flesh mixed with your moans was loud, and it seemed to drive them both wild with desire. their cocks slapped against your insides as they pounded into you, and soon enough, they felt your body start to tremble in anticipation of an intense orgasm.
scaramouche pulled out just a little bit, giving you a brief reprieve before slamming back into you. ss he did so, he felt your walls clench down on him, making him gasp in surprise. his thrusts became more forceful, driving his cock deeper into your depths as he lost himself in the moment. one firm thrust from scaramouche brought you to ecstasy as you couldn't help but moan and cry out while you climaxed.
scaramouche's hips bucked forward violently, driving his cock deep into your throbbing walls. he let out a low growl of pleasure, feeling your walls clench around him tightly as you came undone in a wave of blissful release. the sensation sent shivers down his spine, and he knew that he was just moments away from his own climax. meanwhile, kazuha continued to pound into you from behind, his movements becoming increasingly frantic as he tried to match the intensity of your pleasure. his cock pulsed inside of you, sending jolts of electricity throughout your entire body. with every stroke, he could feel his own orgasm building up, threatening to consume him entirely.
and that high he had desperately been chasing finally came over him as his cum penetrated into your womb, filling it to the fullest, making you cry out loud for the third time in the same night. as kazuha's orgasm hit, his body tensed up, and he groaned in relish as his seed shot into you like a rocket. his hot semen flooded your insides, causing your walls to contract and pulse around his cock. the sensation was exquisite, and he could feel his balls emptying themselves into you, filling you up even further with each passing second. you were a bottomless pit of love and passion, and he couldn't get enough of you or this moment. "take our seed and make sure you get pregnant, okay?" he spoke softly. as the intensity of his orgasm began to subside, kazuha found himself unable to maintain his pace. he slowed down slightly, letting out a few more groans as he continued to pound into you.
scaramouche was the last to cum. his orgasm was equally intense, if not more so than kazuha's. as his cock thrusted against your insides, he could feel his own seed pouring into you, and he let out a loud, long moan as he emptied himself into you. the sensation was overwhelming, and he could barely breathe as his orgasm took hold of him. his body trembled with the force of his release, and he felt his muscles tighten around your entrance as he continued to pump his seed into you.
as his cock gradually softened, he pulled back a little bit, giving you some space to breathe and recover from your own climax. but the intensity of the experience left him tired and spent, and he could barely keep his eyes open as he looked at your flushed and sweaty face with a smirk, a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. "what an obedient wife." he laid his head on your fluffy boobs in exhaustion, but he wasn't planning to stop, neither did kazuha. after all, one round won't guarantee that you'd get pregnant, wouldn't it?
#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche imagines#kazuha imagines#scaramouche x reader#kazuha x reader#scaramouche x you#kazuha x you#scaramouche smut#kazuha smut#scaramouche x y/n#kazuha x y/n#scaramouche#kaedehara kazuha#kazuha#scara#scaramouche x reader x kazuha#kazuscara#kazuscara x reader#genshin headcanons#scaramouche headcanons#kazuha headcanons
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𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘱𝘵 3) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺
𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳
𝘸𝘤 — 2.2k
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 —𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘺 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 <3, 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴…
note: this is a little preface before pt 1 and before Simon went radio silent for like 2 months…
pt 1, pt 2
the only thing that scared Simon Riley was sleep.
he hated waking up in the middle of the night in an empty apartment more than anything, tangled awkwardly in the bedsheets and mind firing after a nightmare. he’d scramble for the knife in the drawer of his nightstand before realizing, the cool grip of the handle in his fingers, he was home.
home. he slowly put down the knife and ran his fingers through his hair. this didn’t feel like home.
he’d leave the cramped bedroom space to slide into the kitchen, too small for his big stature, as he threw a kettle on the stove to heat up some water. he’d do it to keep his mind busy, to distant himself from the distorted images in his nightmares, but the only thing that’d help was slurping down a scalding mug of tea even if it burnt his tongue.
even then, it didn’t really help. his tongue was numb to the pain anyways.
sometimes, he didn’t see anything in his sleep. just a pitch black, wracking silence and a choking sense of dread in his throat when he jolted awake. pure dread.
that’s all it was, he told himself, moving to the living room and past the front door. past the front door.
his eyes flitted to it from the couch, a worn burgundy red and flecked with chips in the wood.
there was always a second option to quelling the burning hours after nightmares.
his neighbor.
he swallowed down the chamomile tea, practically slamming the empty mug onto the glass coffee table that rattled in protest. he leaned his elbows against his knees, pitching forward as he rubbed at his eyes. tired. he was so tired, and all he could think of was his neighbor’s pretty eyes. and that pretty, short dress that hung off the curve of her tight ass.
he screwed his eyes shut. the thoughts of his nightmares drifted further from him as he imagined what it’d be like to just reach out and grip the back of your thigh, snagging the hem of your dress so it was tight against your ass, so he could just stare at the flesh of it while you bent over to put a batch of cookies in the oven.
“fuck,” he whispered, rubbing over the stubble of his jaw.
he could imagine the surprised look you’d give him over your shoulder, wide and innocent as he fondled your ass. adorable.
it was the same look you had given him when you dropped your cardboard box of things in the hallway, cheeks flushed a pink as you scrambled to throw everything back in. he’d had stayed stock still in the elevator, watching you all embarrassed and flustered and hushed little apologies leaving your lips. beneath the mask, he had almost smiled when he crouched down to help you.
it was bad enough to have these sorts of thoughts. his eyes flitted to the door again. it was bad enough that he was corralling you to the bar every other weekend, a low mumbled excuse it was some sort of payment after he had repaired the plumbing in your bathroom. it was bad enough that he was pretending to be your boyfriend, staving off the way you curled into his side when another man approached you, his hand at your waist, squeezing the plush flesh there.
worst of all, he couldn’t see himself stopping any time in the foreseeable future. he trained his eyes on the door.
fuck.
in a swift movement, he stood, snatching a mask from the box of them he kept handy beside the front door and snapping it over his ears before he twisted the front door of his apartment open. he strode down the hallway to a familiar door, pausing when he smelt something on the other side.
he hadn’t expected you to be awake. knocking, he barely had to wait a heartbeat before you cracked the door open, brows raising when you realized it was him. then, there was a shy smile on your face, and his breath went shallow.
he couldn’t help himself when his eyes flitted down to the threadbare shorts and the plush skin of your thighs, then up to the old tshirt that hugged your tits perfectly.
all for him, he decided selfishly, giving you a barebones grumbled explanation that he was hungry when you let him into your apartment. the smell was stronger now—wafting towards him and thick with the familiar scent of something sweet baking.
“how often you bake?” he asked, nonchalant as you led him into the kitchen. it wasn’t the first time he had materialized at your door on a random night. he knew this wouldn’t be the last either.
“whenever i can’t sleep,” you said softly, yawning on queue as if to prove a point as you moved towards metal trays of parchment dotted with balls of sticky cookie dough on the kitchen counter.
he doesn’t remember what he had said after that—just remembers that he had accepted the glass of water you handed him and your demand for him to sit at the little kitchen table that he dwarfed, watching you with a heavy gaze. watching the bare skin on the back of your thighs and the way your tits strained against your shirt when you twisted around to look at him with that pretty smile to say something sweet.
you shouldn’t be so happy to see him, he thought as he shifted in the chair, fixing his pants around the swelling cock in his sweatpants. you shouldn’t trust him so easily either, he thought dreamily, observing how relaxed you were in his presence. comfortable.
he wondered how easy it would be to entice you into your bedroom, muffling any confused noises with his palm pressed to your mouth as he pat your ass into the direction of the bedroom. how sweet and pliable you would be for him if he coaxed you through it—he knew that you would be.
by the time you brought over the freshly baked batch of cookies, still steaming and sizzling on its iron tray, he was sporting a full, throbbing erection. the first couple of bites always tasted bitter with shame, his eyes trained on the cookie in his hand and avoiding the bubbly glimmer in your eyes before the sweetness of it melted any hesitation from his mind and he finished it in two bites. then a second cookie in three bites.
you would always smile at him over the table, leaning on your elbow and propping up your chin over your palm, tracing the flower designs of the table cloth as you spoke softly about anything and everything. he hung onto every word, grimacing at another burst of sweetness in his mouth with a big bite.
he didn’t even really like sweets, but when your knee brushed against his under the table, he found himself picking up another cookie to prolong it all. once he’d finished the entire first batch of cookies, feeling sick and too full and satiated, you had rushed to bake another batch.
watching you quickly shape some more balls of dough in your hands, he realized with a twinge of shock that maybe you wanted to prolong it too.
by the time you had both eaten one more tray of cookies, and he was standing at the entrance of your door in the hallway, the pretty smile on your face looked forced. maybe sad, even, as he tilted his head down at you to observe the glossy sheen to your eyes. he didn’t want you crying because you were sad—wanted it for a different reason.
in a moment of impulse, he reached up to brush any flecks of misplaced hair from your messy updo, relishing the way you craned into his touch, lashes fluttering as your eyes drooped. fuck.
his thumb traced down your cheek to hold your chin, your lips parting sweetly and warm breath fanning over him.
the twitch of his cock was enough to force him to take a step back. “‘night.”
he was so curt that it was almost rude when he ripped himself away from your apartment door, not taking a second to look back because his resolve waned to something small and pathetic as he walked mechanically to his own apartment. he tore the mask from his face, balling it in his fist before tossing it in the trash can, stripping himself of his shirt as he made his way to the bathroom.
immediately, he turned the knob of the shower all the way cold, the water icy cold under his touch when he tested the water. he shucked down his pants and stepped into the water, smothering a sound of discomfort as he tipped his head into the water, abdomen clenched tight as the water ran down his front and trickled off his swollen cock.
he waited one minute, then two, with his hands braced against the wall, waiting for his dick to go down. when it didn’t, he felt like breaking something, a cold fury in him as he crept a hand over his cock and squeezed tight.
he hated the throaty groan that flew from his lips, cock twitching in his grasp, relieved from the ounce of friction. easing his grip, he tugged a loose clutch of his fingers over the swollen appendage, amazed at the way it was so hot to the touch under the icy cold water.
bracing his forearm against the tile wall, he fucked into his own hand, rolling his hips and twisting his hand at the flushed head of his cock, water running down his back a heady mix of confusing sensations that pushed him further towards a chasmic edge.
it wasn’t long before his thoughts were circling you again, your soft words and soft lips in his mind. soft skin, too, as he imagined what it’d be like to slide his cock between the plush of your breasts, sandwiching the head of his cock nicely as pearly liquid ran down his length. fuck, he could imagine you sticking out your tongue to lap at the slit with every thrust, big eyes doe eyes so innocent as you looked up at him.
he was so pent up. so pent up about you.
then, he was trying to imagine how tight your cunt would be around his cock, thrusting so deep that he hit your cervix before he would pull out, tapping the head of it against your sensitive clit, watching the way your squirmed and mewled in the sheets with a giddy feeling in his chest before burying himself to the hilt again. tight, hot, warm, wet, sucking him in perfectly.
would you beg him with that pretty voice of yours? a soft lilt to your words even when his hand was squeezing around your throat as he fucked you at a brutal pace? every wet smack of his pelvis against yours forcing more glittery tears out your eyes and wanton moans from your lips?
“please Simon,” you moaned, voice thick from the tears running down your cheeks, “feels so good—”
“shh, m’gonna let ya—” he choked around his words, “want you to come, pretty girl.”
“close,” you slurred, eyes half-lidded as you looked down where his cock was stretching your pussy wide, sucking him in and clenching him in pulsing waves in time with the slam of his hips.
“let go f’me,” he commanded, eyes honed in on the swollen pearl between your folds and rubbing his thumb over it, fast and hard and loving the way your back arched with a sweet keen on your lips.
he watched with a fervor as you came with cute little shakes and shivers, face pinched and flushed with effort.
“tha’s it, sweet thing,” he groaned aloud, eyes rolling back into their sockets when the head of his cock brushed against the icy cold tile wall. “m’gonna come in that pretty, tight cunt—”
with a low groan, he came in ropes down the tile wall, abdominal muscles clenched tight as he rutted into his hand a couple more times before almost collapsing against the wall. panting, his stomach sank as he watched his cum slide down the surface of the wall, washed down into the drain between his feet.
it was barely a release—barely satiated the thrumming desire still sitting heavy in his stomach. ugly and thick and whispering your name.
“shit,” he panted, swallowing down the thick feeling in his throat as he rubbed over his face.
it was bad. worse than he thought it could be, as more images of your pretty face bloomed in his mind, swirling around and rooting there. rotting there.
it wouldn’t last long, he decided, washing up before stepping out the shower and tugging on his sweatpants again. looking at the mirror, he stared into his own eyes, finding a face of something strange and foreign staring back. he brushed his fingers over the scar on his upper lip, feeling over the divot in his flesh with a numbing coldness spreading through his chest.
he’d be gone soon, and so would his ugly, muddled feelings once he left for work.
taglist: @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley
#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw2#ghost cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#ghost smut#ghost angst#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost fluff#simon riley fluff#simon riley angst
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day 4, cock warming
charlie swan x reader
warnings: nsfw 18+, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, slight almost getting caught, brief handjob, domestic charlie swan
kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3
Sundays meant game day. They also meant Bella would be out of the house hanging out with Edward or one of the other Cullens. This also meant that you and Charlie got some much-needed alone time. The sun was setting, the last of the sun’s rays dipping behind the horizon.
You padded into the dimly lit living room, cold beer in hand. The soft glow of the TV allowed you to make out your path. Charlie’s team had begun to lose horribly, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over.
You set the beer on its designated coaster and approached his position sprawled out on the couch. Wordless you crawled on top of him, taking him by surprise. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat
“Hey there,” he said, affection and curiosity evident in his tone.
“Hey,” you replied softly, wrapping your arms around him.
He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your sleep shirt left little to the imagination, and the bare skin was tantalizing. His hands drifted downward, and you forced yourself to focus on the game.
You dragged yourself upward, making sure to grind against the imprint of his length. You disguised it as reaching for a blanket and covering the both of you. Charlie eyed you, the game completely forgotten, and you felt him twitch under you.
His hands drifted under your sleep shirt and moved to cup your ass. Charlie sucked in a breath when he realized you weren’t wearing any underwear.
“Whatcha up to, darlin’?”
You looked up at him innocently, “I’m just watching the game.”
“Wanna explain where your underwear went?”
You sat up to straddle him and grin. The blanket falls, splayed against Charlie’s thighs. “Are you gonna search me, Chief Swan?”
He dragged his fingertips along your bare thighs, eyes dancing across your features. “I think I might have to, miss,” he responded, donning the tone he used when he was working.
Your smirk turned devilish as you slid your hand in between your bodies and palmed him. Charlie jutted his hips upward and met your movements. He leaned up to kiss you, his lips moving languidly against yours.
His hands began to wander over the soft expanse of your back and eventually to your chest. He kneads your breasts and extends a thumb to glide across your nipple as you kiss him, eliciting a soft moan from the both of you.
You pulled away and hooked a finger into the waistband of Charlie’s sweatpants and tugged, revealing what you’d been aching for all evening. You wrapped your hand around him and pumped it slowly, teasing him. He released a shaky breath as he bucked his hips.
You lifted yourself up and swiped his cock through your folds, eliciting a gasp from the both of you. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him. His large hands grip your hips and helped you down, watching as your dripping core swallowed his cock.
He hissed as he bottomed out. “So fucking tight, baby.”
The sound of jingling keys into the lock of your front door caused you to jump, your pussy clenching around Charlie.
You were quick to grab the edge of the blanket and cover the both of you. Your head nearly collided with Charlie’s chin in your hurry to lie down and act inconspicuously. The pounding of his heart reverberated against the shell of your ear as you rested your head on his chest. He twitched inside you, nervousness mixing with excitement. You’d never done anything this risky before.
Bella’s footsteps neared, and you prayed she couldn’t see the scarlet dusting your cheeks. All you could focus on was just how deep Charlie was inside of you, and it was making your mind hazy.
“Hey!” Charlie called, attempting to keep his tone even. “You’re home early.”
You lifted your head slightly to look at the teenager.
“Yeah, we have a test tomorrow. Edward wanted me to have time to study,” she said nonchalantly. Charlie nodded, feigning approval. “Enjoy the game, guys,” Bella waved her goodbye and headed for her bedroom.
Once you heard the familiar sound of her door clicking shut, you breathed out a sigh of relief. Charlie let out a soft groan.
“That was close,” Charlie murmured, shifting his hips slightly. You nodded, your core still fluttering around him.
“Too close.”
“How ‘bout we watch the game in our room?”
You grinned before sliding off of him, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning. Your arousal was nearly dripping down your legs as you stood, and heat rushed to your cheeks at the sensation.
Charlie quickly tucked himself back into his sweatpants before standing up from the couch, the imprint of his erection still very evident.
You held out a hand to him. “Don’t wanna miss too much of the game.”
“No, we don’t,” he answered, lacing his fingers with yours and leading you to the bedroom.
#charlie swan#twilight#charlie swan x reader#the twilight saga#no y/n#reader insert#kinktober#kinktober 2023#twilight smut#twilight saga#charlie swan smut#charlie swan x reader smut
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18+ minors dni, that is your warning. Idk how we ended up with this. Some subby vs dom Bucky having wet dreams has such a choke hold on me right now. Apologies in advance, it gets quite feral.
Imagine subby Bucky whining and whimpering into his pillow with his aching cock throbbing against the mattress, cum dribbling from his tip, his hips pressing against the bed to relieve how full his dick feels. He shivers in his sleep as he wets his boxer briefs' and the bed with his load, cuddling into the pillow more because how he feels all sensitive, floating in a hazy bliss. At some point when he does wake up, he feels the warm sticky mess he made and his cheeks are dusted pink thinking about what caused all this in the first place. He should change the sheets and he should hop into the shower but that dream-
He can't help but shove his hand into his briefs, biting his lip to keep his voice down while he tugs at his cock in the privacy of his room, thankful you had no idea how desperate he was for you.
He needs your breasts in his face, something for him to suckle on to keep his voice down when he's balls deep in you. The thought makes him harder and he pulls the waistband of his brief's down to free his cock, stroking faster. Poor baby so badly wants to stop, you're too sweet and here he is acting like such a little pervert but a thick drop of precum drips out and he can't stop now, he needs to get it all out. He wonders if you'd put it in your mouth, fuck if you'd try and take both balls, telling him how good he tastes, how he's such a good boy for holding it, how big and good his dick feels, how you'd touch him so softly and-
"A-angel-y/n-mmph"- his voice melts into a whine as he throws his head back, chest heaving between sweet breathy moans, cum shooting and dripping onto his abs. He's made an even bigger mess than before and he's not sure how he's going to face you after what he's just done but he can't help it, not when it's you.
But then imagine dom Bucky who lets out a muffled groan, his metal arm whirring, fingers tearing the sheets when pleasure out of his control makes his balls full and heavy, his cock growing rock hard. His muscles tense and he ruts into the bed to chase the intense feeling between his legs. "Mmph-fuck" His voice is laced with sleep as his hips stutter, pink lips parted when he moans, cumming all over himself and the bed. Ropes of his spend seem to pour endlessly from his cockhead, his body producing more than enough cum for days. His eyes crack open when the sun pours into his room and he stretches, feeling relaxed and satisfied. He smirks when he remembers that dream, lazily kicking off the sheets and tossing his boxers off so he can think about it again, this time with more control. He's hard in no time, keeping his legs spread while his metal hand cups and rolls his balls, his other working his length up and down.
He thinks about the way you'd suckle on his tip, hissing when he lets his thumb toy with his slit, imaging it being your tongue lapping up the milk he's ready to give you.
"Mm, that's it angel" He groans, giving his balls a tug and rutting his hips up to fuck his fist thinking about how perfect you'd be if you swallowed every single drop, sticking your tongue out after to show him you drank it all.
His mind continues to wonder thinking about what his filthy imagination cooked up last night in his dreams. Your body would look so pretty on full display for him with your legs spread apart so he can put his cock in exactly where it belongs. His eyes roll back at the thought of you whining and whimpering over how his fat dick is stretching you. Bucky really isn't the type to put a lot of thought into his dick size but when it comes to you it makes him feral. He wants to hear those whimpers when you feel his erection press against you if you sat on his lap, to see your eyes widen when he pulls it out, for you tell him it's not gonna fit.
At this point, Bucky doesn't give a fuck that he's moaning shamelessly on his bed with both hands playing and working at his cock and balls. The walls are soundproof anyway. He alternates between closing his eyes and thinking of you and looking at his leaky length, he fucking knows its perfect and so pink and pretty. He just knows you'd want to play with it and kiss it and suck it. God, he wants you to suck it. So bad.
"Suck it angel, c'mon, suck daddy's cock"
He almost wishes you were able to hear him next door. You have him so worked up, his seconds away from shoving his pillow between his legs and humping it till his balls are empty.
"God damn angel, fuck are you doing to me" He murmurs when he gets closer to cumming, thinking about his dream ended up with your legs around his waist, his cum painting the inside of your cunt. His moans grow louder, brows furrowed and jaw slack when the first stream blows from the tip smearing onto his lips. "Holy fuck-fuck-hng-
He's never cum that hard before, moaning loudly again when he lets his hand massage his sensitive and swollen head making sure he drains his balls, getting out every drop.
He's not even mad at the musky salty tastes of himself as he starts to come down from his high, continuing to give himself a few more lazy strokes as he strides over to take a shower. He has training with you later today and he can't wait to make those dreams a reality.
#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanfic#james buchanan barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#dom bucky x subby reader#dom bucky smut#dom bucky barnes#subby bucky#sub bucky smut#sub bucky x reader#sub bucky barnes#needy bucky#needy bucky x reader#needy bucky smut
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"What. The. Fuck."
Over years of living in a trailer park, Eddie has seen his fair share of weird shit. But this right here? This surpasses everything.
Wayne is sitting on the couch in the living room, with an actual baby in his lap and a completely deadpan expression on his face like this is something that happens every day.
"Hey, Ed. Meet Sasha Munson."
"Sasha Munson?" Eddie repeats, hoping that saying the name out loud will make this whole thing less surreal. It doesn't, so he automatically switches right into disbelieving panic mode instead. "Sasha Munson?! What the fuck? She isn't mine, I promise, it's literally impossible, someone must've - Wait, hold on - Is she yours? Aren't you like fifty years too old to knock someone up? What the fuck did you do? Who's the mother? What were you thinking, man, we can't take care of a -"
"Eddie, sit down."
"No, I'm not sitting down, this is ridiculous, what the fucking fuck, we can't -"
"She ain't mine and she ain't yours."
"What the-" It takes a few seconds before Wayne's words sink in. Then, Eddie freezes mid-sentence, giving his brain a second or two to catch up to what Wayne just said.
"Wait, what?" he asks.
He gives the sleeping baby a distrustful look. It's small - too small to be a human, if you asks Eddie. It scares him a little bit.
"Then whose is she?"
"I told ya to sit down, Ed."
And Wayne's voice is so strict and serious that Eddie can only obey.
"Your dad was here earlier."
Those few words are enough to tell Eddie exactly what happened. He immediately feels sick to his stomach. He wants to cover his ears, or walk out of the trailer and never come back. But instead, he keeps sitting, frozen in his chair, and listens to what Wayne tells him.
"Sasha is his daughter. He had this girlfriend, Melody, 'bout a year ago. She's much younger than him, is all I know 'bout her. I think they were kinda serious at the time. But Clyde went and messed it up, of course. Cheated on her. She dumped him. Then showed up again a few weeks later all sobered up and told him she was pregnant. Far as I know, things went okay for a while after that. But she caved right after she gave birth. It took a toll on her, Clyde said. So she needed the drugs again. He left her; he didn't see a way to help her and he was worried 'bout Sasha's safety. So he took Sasha with him and brought her to me. Said he couldn't take care of a baby and that was that."
It is a story eerily similar to what Wayne told Eddie about his own early years, whenever he'd ask him questions about his parents.
Eddie looks at the tiny human in Wayne's arms. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is just slightly agape. She's wrapped in a blanket that has a soft shade of pink, with tiny elephants printed across it.
"He never learns, does he?" Eddie remarks with a sigh.
"He doesn't," Wayne affirms in a soft voice, shaking his head. "But you know what, if these are the consequences of his actions..." He first looks up at Eddie, then down at the baby in his lap again. "I can't even be too mad at him for it."
"Jesus Christ, what a mess."
"Don't think too badly of him, Ed," Wayne says. "He wanted to help them. Both of 'em. But he didn't know how. He did what he thought was gonna be best for Sasha. Just like he did with you. He ain't evil. Just a coward who makes bad decisions."
Eddie swallows thickly.
"We'll make it work," Wayne says with certainty in his voice. "It'll be tight, but we'll survive. We did it before, we can do it again."
Eddie nods.
"You wanna hold her?"
He shifts uneasily. She seems so fragile. He doesn't know a single thing about babies; he is his father's son, after all, not Wayne's, no matter how much he wishes he were.
"C'mon, Ed, she's your sister."
It's only now that Eddie notices how well it fits, Wayne with a baby in his arms. Like he was made to be a father. Like Sasha belongs there. There aren't any pictures of Eddie as a baby, as far as he knows, but he imagines it must've looked somewhat like this scene: the exact same couch, a different blanket, and a younger version of Wayne. One with less wrinkles and more hair; less worn-out by the sorrows Eddie has given him over the years. It's simple for Wayne, in a way it isn't for Eddie's father, and in a way that Eddie fears it won't be for him. To hold her gently and let her sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To sit with her quietly and do nothing else. To give love and patience without expecting anything in return.
Eddie rises from his chair and sits down next to Wayne on the couch. He utters a shaky breath, trying not to show his nerves, and wipes his sweaty hands over his jeans before holding out his arms.
“Just like that,” says Wayne softly while he places Sasha in Eddie's arms.
She's warm and has that specific newborn baby scent clinging around her. She's heavier than Eddie expected. She stirs a little bit and makes a tiny sound, but then she continues her peaceful sleep. He studies her: her closed eyes, her tiny nose, the way her head rolls around helplessly if he doesn't support her steadily enough; the hand that's hanging out of the blanket, with minuscule but fully developed fingers that grab around nothing. He listens to the steady sound of her breathing and imagines the tiny lungs inside her body working on pure instinct to keep her alive. His sister.
He looks up and finds Wayne staring at the two of them with tears in his eyes. He only catches Eddie's gaze for a fraction of a second, then he looks away, to the window on his right side.
“You're wrong, you know,” Eddie says.
Wayne turns his head back to him.
“Bout what?”
“She isn't his. Neither am I.” He looks up from the girl in his hands to meet Wayne's eyes. “We're both yours. He didn't do jackshit for us, just dropped us here with you and ran away. You're the one who raised me, Uncle Wayne, and that makes me yours way more than his. And Sasha? We're both gonna be here for her, every step of the way. We're gonna change her diapers and feed her milk - I don't really know anything else about babies, but we're gonna do all of that, together. We're gonna see her grow up and become a person. She's ours.”
Wayne produces a noise that sounds somewhat like a choked-off sob. He puts an arm around Eddie and drags him closer towards him. He doesn't say anything, but Eddie didn't expect him to. He understands.
#wayne munson was in dire need of an accidental baby acquisition trope okay#i said so#i know we all love steve accidentally becoming a parent to a baby half sibling but#consider this please#don't mind me rambling about stranger things#eddie munson#wayne munson#stranger things#fruity ficlet
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