#and said fuck it lets just work on this for like a week straight
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okay since you wanted requests to switch it up a bit.. could you write trevor zegras x fem!reader smut where his gf is less experienced than him and wants to give him head but she’s never done it before so he guides her through it 🫣
other requests: “could you write a smut with some fluff in it too, with trevor zegras walking his gf through giving him head because it’s her first time and she’s nervous/doesn’t know what to do”, “obsessed with the idea of trevor zegras talking his gf through how to give him head when it’s her first time and she’s nervous about not knowing what to do.. like literally giving her instructions throughout, with lots of praise and reassurance, but also dirty talk bc let’s be real, it’s trevor.”
warnings: oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, inexperienced reader x experienced partner, praise, coming on face, masturbation
joke warnings: tw: los angeles angels (i prefer the dodgers), in a world where tz never broke his ankle during the 2023-2024 season…
pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!fem!reader
summary: see requests above.
wc: 3089
Trevor Zegras was the most giving, patient man you had ever known. Maybe his patience came from having younger siblings, but it was more likely that it came from years and years of working with teammates in a cutthroat sport. You had grown up watching hockey, gaining intimate knowledge of the sport when you had started dating Trevor. Trevor, in exchange, found himself more than knowledgeable about baseball, the sport of your choice, than he ever needed to be.
You two had met when you came to Anaheim, having graduated a year early from college with a degree in Sports Marketing. You had landed a job with the Los Angeles Angels, which had relocated you to the area, and you couldn’t imagine your life going any other way. There were times when you missed your family and missed home, but once you had gotten settled into your job and you had met Trevor, Anaheim started to feel like the home you’d been destined to find.
Anaheim was also an escape from your hometown– a place where, despite your best efforts, you did not feel welcome. You had told Trevor early in your relationship about your lack of experience sexually and tried to explain it away with a long-winded story about being a “weird kid,” but Trevor had brushed it off and told you he didn’t mind your inexperience. He was happy, he said, to teach you everything he could. All you had to do was say the word.
So, you’d worked up to it. You’d slept in the same bed, touched him, and he had touched you. Hockey season had helped the pace of your relationship, with Trevor traveling almost every other week. He was gone for two weeks straight in January, traveling from coast to coast, and it was then that you had shyly admitted to him through the tinny speaker of your phone how badly you wanted to suck him off.
He had fumbled with the phone, groaning at the idea alone of your mouth around his length, and it had resulted in a long FaceTime call in which you watched him fuck into his hand, telling you how much better it would feel if it was your mouth.
It was the Monday night after they had come back. Trevor had had a game on Sunday at Honda Center against the Rangers and spent the night at his place because it was closer to the rink. As much as he was itching to see you, and your heart was beating out of your chest at the idea of seeing him and going through with blowing him, you were scared. Trevor knew that you were nervous, the anticipation was getting to you, just from the way you were texting. The messages were shorter. You weren’t initiating conversation as much. The times between your responses were longer.
It didn’t matter, though. He was coming over tonight.He was going to cook you dinner. He was going to set the mood. He was going to make you comfortable if it was the last thing that he did, and if it meant that you wouldn’t get your mouth on him at all, he was okay with that.
Trevor arrived at your apartment about an hour after you got off work. Spring training was starting in just a month, so things were starting to pick up for you. You were stressed, plenty of tasks on your plate and most of them half-finished. A relaxing dinner with your boyfriend was going to provide a needed distraction.
Trevor had let himself into the apartment and was already pan-searing some cubed potatoes when you got out of the shower. He was in complete boyfriend mode, having stolen your apron and thrown it over his bare chest. You could see his tattoos from where you were standing, the ones littering his arms and the delicate one on his ribs, and you smiled.
He seemed like a tough guy, your boyfriend. He had the tattoos, the athletic ability, the sculpted form and ridged muscles of an athlete. Anyone who saw him in the supermarket might think he’s an asshole, but the second they get a good look at him, they’ll realize that he’s just a softie. He tied a delicate bow around the curve of his waist in your baby blue and frilly apron.
“I can feel you looking at me,” Trevor said. You watched his bicep ripple as he moved the potatoes around the pan with a spatula. He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, good, you’re actually there. Could you imagine me saying that to the air?”
“I can, actually,” You replied with a laugh. You walked over and hugged Trevor from behind, arms wrapped solidly around his figure as you squished your cheek against his back. “I bet you did.”
Trevor sputtered out a denial, shaking his head. He relented just seconds later, unable to keep up the bit. “You’re right. I thought you were there like two minutes before you actually were.”
You giggled and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Trevor placed the spatula down on the counter, then turned the burner off and moved the pan to a different spot on the cooktop. He turned in your arms, inching over just a bit so that you were trapping him against the counter, not the oven. He gasped, reaching up and cradling your face in the palms of his hands.
“What?” You asked.
“You’ve gotten even prettier in the two weeks that I haven’t seen you,” He marveled, tilting your head from side to side as you rolled your eyes.
You pushed away from him, walking out of the kitchen.
Trevor trailed behind you like a puppy.
“You’re a loser,” You said.
“I love my pretty girlfriend,” Trevor replied.
As you passed the couch in your living room, Trevor tackled you over the arm of the object and you fell onto the cushions. You shrieked at the contact, at the fall, and squirmed in Trevor’s grip as he kissed over your neck and face. His fingers were digging into your sides, causing you to giggle and snort between breaths. Trevor was relentless, until he decided to plant a kiss on your lips.
He captured your lips with intent, slowly slotting your bottom lip between his. Trevor always kissed you with purpose, slow, like he was trying to memorize you. He slid his mouth into your tongue like he was trying to lap up your sweetness, keep it on his tongue until he could place your taste and replicate it in a dish or a drink, something he’d be willing to consume every day for the rest of his life. You liked most when he nibbled on your bottom lip before pulling away, something that was so trademark Trevor that it made you breathless. He would always pull back just to look at you, to push your hair out of your face, before diving back in.
He kissed you so gently, so sweetly, that when you felt his bulge press against you, you were almost caught off guard.
“Been thinking about you,” Trevor purred against your lips. “About what you said the other day.”
You froze and Trevor pulled away, hovering over you. He searched your face carefully.
“We don’t have to,” He reassured you. “You know we don’t have to. I’d never make you.”
“I want to,” You replied, voice small. “I’m just… scared.”
“Scared of what?” Trevor asked.
“What if I gag and I throw up all over you?” You cringed at the mere thought. “I’ll die if that happens.”
Trevor stifled a laugh. “I’ll shower and I’ll wait two weeks before letting you near my dick with your mouth again,” He answered, an easy smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
You pouted at him. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I am!” He protested. “Baby, you’re not going to throw up on my dick.”
“What if I do?”
“I just told you what we’d do if you threw up on my dick!”
“Okay, well, you’re not being very supportive of my fears.”
Trevor sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders. He stared deeply into your eyes. “I understand you are afraid of vomiting on my penis. I assure you, that will not happen.”
“How can you be so sure?” You whined.
“It’s never happened before,” Trevor said. He leaned down to kiss the spot under your ear. “Plus, baby, I’m going to go so slow that you’ll be begging for more by the end of it.”
A shiver ran down your spine at that, the way he whispered the words in your ear so his hot breath danced over your skin igniting a flame between your legs.
“Why don’t,” Trevor began, his hand making his way to your clothed mound, “I show you just how good getting head would make me feel?”
His deft fingers rubbed in circles over your clit, the pressure just intense enough to make you moan.
“Would you like that? I’ll get my tongue on you, make you come once, maybe twice…” Trevor kissed you, his lips sliding over yours, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth then out of it. “And then we can revisit the idea of getting your mouth on me?”
“Yeah,” You agreed lamely, the heat between your legs growing more slick with each circle of his fingers and each wet kiss.
Trevor stood from where he was lain on top of you. He untied your apron, which you had almost forgotten he was wearing, and tossed it to the side. He grabbed under your knees and dragged you down towards the arm of the couch, throwing one leg over the arm and setting your other foot on the floor. He kept a hand on that knee, rubbing smooth lines up and down your skin with his thumb. With his other hand, he traced the line of your folds through the fabric of your sweat-shorts.
They were a loose pair, gray and almost threadbare after years of washes and use. The fabric of the shorts was the thinnest barrier Trevor could have faced. You could have put on panties when you got out of the shower, but had opted just for these shorts instead. They were more comfortable. Now, they were just something stopping him from getting his mouth on you.
Except, it didn’t stop him.
Trevor mouthed over your clit, giving it an open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered at the shock that it sent up your body, causing your fingertips to twitch at your side. He ran his tongue over the length of your pussy and chuckled to himself when your hips jumped beneath him.
“Relax, honey,” Trevor said, his words muffled because he was still pressed against you. “Relax and enjoy.”
His fingers came up and moved your shorts out of the way, revealing you to him. Chastely, he kissed your folds, then pointedly blew cold air over your entrance.
“Trev,” You let out, reaching a hand towards his, still rubbing on your knee. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.
Trevor licked his way up to your clit again, capturing it between his lips and sucking. He rolled the bud on his tongue, causing your hips to lift again. “Be good,” He told you, voice low. His eyes were closed as he continued to lick over you, practically french kissing your lower lips the same way he would the ones on your face.
It was a gradual build, the coil in your stomach tightening. You squeezed Trevor’s hand and ground down on his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting you hump it, before he tensed it at your entrance and prodded his way into you. He flicked the muscle fast, and the sensation was all too much for you.
You came undone with a loud cry, your thighs closing around Trevor’s head involuntarily.
He continued to lap at your release, cleaning you up and only stopping when you relaxed beneath him and pushed him away.
“How was that?” Trevor asked, his face level with yours.
You reached out and looped your arms around his neck, dragging him forward until your lips crashed against his. This kiss, at your direction, was much more passionate. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth. You turned, pushing at Trevor until he was the one seated on the couch. You found yourself on his lap, grinding down on his bulge.
“So you liked it?” Trevor asked.
You let out a laugh and sucked a hickey under his jaw. “Teach me how to make you feel good like that.”
Trevor shuddered when you scraped your teeth over his pulse point. “On your knees,” He told you. He guided you, with a hand on your shoulder, between his legs.
The sight of you there, feet tucked prettily under you, hands clasped in front of you, has Trevor’s dick twitching in his pants.
“Take my dick out, baby,” Trevor said, his voice soft but firm.
He lifted his hips as you pulled at his shorts. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him in just his briefs.
“Give me your hand.”
You reached up and he took your wrist, guiding your hand toward his bulge. He let your hand rest just to the side of him.
“Touch me. Over my pants.”
You traced the line of his dick over his pants, biting your lip when it jumped under your finger. You palmed him, fitting your hand over the curve of him and beginning to rub him up and down.
Trevor’s head tilted back and he let out a groan. “Faster.”
You sped up, just as he had asked you to, bringing your other hand up to cradle his balls.
“Fuck,” Trevor moaned, inadvertently tipping his hips up into your hand. “Take it out.”
You rushed to do so, scraping your nails against his sides when you pulled at his waistband. Trevor hissed at that, but didn’t say anything. When his dick was revealed to you, standing proud and dripping from the tip, you took it in your hand and leaned down to hesitantly lick his slit.
Trevor’s hands flew to your hair, the strands falling between his fingers. “Again,” He breathed out, eyes wide.
You licked his tip again, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
“Oh my God,” Trevor drawled out, borderline whimpering. “Baby, fuck, please.”
You smiled, proud of yourself for reducing him from someone who was so sure of himself and so loud to someone who is whining just from your touch. You circled your lips around his lip, sucking lightly.
His dick twitched. “So good,” Trevor praised. “Can you take more?”
You nodded out of instinct, but the sensation made him garble out an unintelligible string of words. You sunk down lower on his dick, feeling your lips stretch as you take him down your throat. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, feeling how he slid in and out of you. The taste of him on your tongue was addicting– salty and just so man. You moaned, the vibrations enveloping Trevor’s dick in a way that made him buck up into your throat. You gagged, a tear forming on your waterline.
Trevor grabbed your hair and pulled you up, just barely off the head of his dick.
“You okay?” He asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you gag.”
You cleared your throat and nodded. “You taste so good, Trevor.”
Trevor’s jaw dropped at the tone of your voice, light and innocent and sexy because it was worn with use.
“Fuck, suck me again, just take it,” Trevor encouraged, gathering your hair into a ponytail.
You lowered your mouth onto Trevor again, tracing your tongue over the vein on the underside of his dick. You used one hand to pump the part of his dick that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You bobbed up and down, covering your teeth as best you could, but Trevor relished in the ghost of a scrape over his member when you got caught up in the moment.
He was groaning, babbling above you, his abs flexing as he drowned in pleasure. His face was flushed and you whined when you saw the mark that you left on his sharp jawline.
“Baby, you’re so good,” Trevor groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”
You reached a hand down into your shorts and fingered furiously over your clit, swooning with the sensation there and of the weight on your tongue.
Trevor leaned forward and spotted your movements, saw your hand moving from inside your shorts. “Oh my God, fuck, yeah, make yourself come, too, baby…”
You gave it your all, twisting your hand around the length of Trevor that wasn’t inside your mouth. Drool slid out of your mouth, offering plenty of lubrication for your hand, making it easier to jerk him.
“God, fucking– baby, let me come on your face. Please, wanna see it on you,” Trevor begged.
He said it right as your fingers teased your entrance in just the right way, and you came for the second time that night, kneeling on the carpet for your boyfriend’s pleasure.
You pulled off of Trevor, but kept your mouth open, sticking your tongue out. He took his dick in his hand and jacked himself off quickly, hand flying over his length.
“Close your eyes,” Trevor warned, panting like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Don’t– fuck– don’t want to get my come in your eye.”
You obeyed him, reluctantly losing sight of his figure. There would be plenty of other times where you could watch his face contort with the bliss of his orgasm, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his hot, sticky come fall on your cheeks before Trevor aims his release at your tongue.
“God, Y/N,” Trevor groaned out. “I kind of want to take a picture of you like this.”
“Can I open my eyes?” You asked, “Wanna look up at you.”
“Yeah,” Trevor agreed, eyes fluttering as he took in the sight of you with his come on your face. When your eyes opened and met his, he felt himself starting to harden again. “Now I really want to take a picture.”
You wiped some of the come off of your cheek with your thumb before licking it off the digit. “Next time. I believe you promised me a home cooked dinner.”
notes: dear trevor zegras, i <3 you and think we could really get up to no good if you'd just give me a look. also, i wrote this at work. also, also, my coworker was sitting next to me and one of the elderly ladies asked me what i was typing. no comment.
#puck-luck's fics#trevor zegras#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras x y/n#trevor zegras smut#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl x y/n#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#andy writes anything🍄#tz11#hockey smut
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hiiiii i'm here to give you a big hug and request a 1k prompt 🙌
1. a biiiiiig hug
2. as for the (hehe smutty) prompt!
i think i would LOVE to see ed feeling vulnerable and safe enough to share with stede that a lot of things don't work for him in bed because of his knee and at first he is cautious and worries stede will get angry or frustrated with him, but of course stede showers him with love and care and thinks of a hundred ways to have sex that are not painful or uncomfortable for him 🫶
Ooh I really loved this one, thanks so much for sending it in (and sending you a hug right back)! Get absolutely adored and cherished Ed!!
Under the cut since this one's a bit nsfw! I'd put it at a strong M rating, no explicit sexual content but obviously it's about sex.
Ed had never really owned up to how fucking inconvenient the knee could make things, not before.
See, there are certain things that are mood- killers, and then there are things that are straight-up dangerous to admit, and Ed’s little problem was both. The hookups Ed was used to wouldn’t just laugh at him for being in pain during sex, they would’ve taken it as a sign of weakness. A sign that Ed was vulnerable, weak, easy to exploit and to harm.
So, usually, he just put up with it. If it was awful, like if a guy pushed his legs back, forcing the knee to bend at a harsh angle, he might find some excuse to change it up, but usually he just closed his eyes and hoped his grunts of discomfort sounded pleasured instead of pained. He would close his eyes, after, breathing through the pain, vowing that he’d never have sex in a painful position again for the rest of his life, cautiously listening to make sure whatever guy he’d taken to bed wasn’t trying to pull any shit. Rinse and repeat a few weeks later.
Stede, though. Talk about a hell of a difference.
He’d figured out that Ed didn’t like some things, Ed thought. He never held down Ed’s bad leg, never forced the knee to bend. Rubbed the joint so tenderly after sex. And that maybe should’ve made it easier to admit to his problem, but Stede made Ed feel so good, and he wanted to return the favor, and…
“Ed, honey, you’re somewhere else tonight.”
Ed sniffed, shifted. They’d been breaking in their new bed (still called it that, even though they’d been breaking it in for a couple months now), and he was half in Stede’s lap, legs flung across Stede’s thighs. He should’ve felt perfect.
“Sorry,” he whispered, and when Stede’s light, appraising touches traveled down his leg, rubbing lightly at his knee, he hissed, the pain making him flinch involuntarily.
Stede kissed his fingertips, then touched them feather-light to Ed’s knee. “Does it hurt?”
“Just stiff,” Ed said dismissively.
Stede just hummed. Ed knew he wouldn’t force the issue.
“I, uh…” Ed cleared his throat. “What would you say if I said I didn’t think I should ride you anymore?”
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on Stede’s face -
“I’d say that was fine,” Stede said easily. “Why? Does it make your knee hurt when we do that?”
“Maybe a little,” Ed admitted softly.
“Okay,” Stede said, and he positioned his hands around Ed’s knee, rubbing his thumbs gently along the sore, tender joint, working out the stiffness of exertion. Ed hissed, his face scrunching up at the sensation, and Stede just cooed soft apologies.
That was - that was it, though, wasn’t it? Ed knew he was safe to let Stede see him in pain. Stede hadn’t ever gotten angry or frustrated with him for being in pain or needing help with his knee before, why would this be any different?
“Um,” Ed started haltingly, “I actually think maybe we might need to be a little more careful. During intercourse. With my knee. If that sounds alright to you. Maybe.”
When he opened his eyes, Stede was getting that pinched line between his eyebrows.
“Ed?” Stede pulled Ed a bit more securely into his arms, and Ed sighed in satisfaction at the feeling of Stede’s arms around his waist. “Have you been hurting? While we have sex? Have I been hurting you?”
“Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad, I’m just…” Stede let his breath out in a long sigh. “I don’t want to ever do anything that hurts you. Not ever. Especially not when we’re trying to do something that’ll make us both feel good. How can I help keep you comfortable?”
“Well…” Ed grimaced. “Bending my knee is what hurts the most.”
“Alright,” Stede said thoughtfully, and Ed could see the wheels turning in his head. Taking out positions that required Ed to bend his knee took so much off the table. Riding, giving blowjobs, even fucking missionary, and Ed was a bit terrified he’d just ruined their sex life.
Clearly, he’d underestimated Stede Bonnet’s creativity.
Ed should’ve known he was in for a treat when he caught Stede woodworking in the backyard and was given a full presentation about all the features of the “blowjob stool” he was building, a seat designed to cushion and support Ed’s knee while putting him at perfect dick-sucking height.
Stede was endlessly thoughtful when adapting positions they already liked, too. Ed liked being taken from behind; they discovered that a pillow under his hips kept him comfortable and allowed him to keep his legs straight. When Ed missed looking into Stede’s eyes during sex, they experimented with variously supporting his knee with pillows or propping his ankle on Stede’s shoulder. Spooning, bent over a desk, the good ol’ 69… not all of Stede’s ideas or little inventions worked, but the ideas he had for supports to keep Ed comfortable meant it was the best sex Ed had ever had, full stop. It was really damn nice to be able to enjoy himself without worrying about being in pain.
The best parts, though, weren’t just the sex itself.
They’d found that Ed’s knee was least painful when his muscles were relaxed and when he was feeling good, so they often had a warm bath first. It was fun foreplay, and relaxing together while Stede rubbed tiger balm into the joint in the afterglow was the perfect way to snuggle and talk about what they’d enjoyed.
“I’m glad I told you,” Ed whispered one night, tracing their initials over Stede’s heart as they cuddled, Ed’s bad leg slung over Stede’s hip to keep it propped up.
“Me, too,” Stede said, kissing Ed’s cheek.
Ed was learning, still, that he’d never have to just put up with pain again. And it was soft, soft, as smooth and sweet as honey.
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Honestly with all the overlap between sci-fi and fantasy fans, I’m really surprised that “high fantasy in space” isn’t more of a thing.
There are some things generally assumed by most to be sci-fi that I’d personally label space fantasy, like Star Wars, where the high tech is just there as a backdrop to a classic heroic story of good guys vs. bad guys, who are definitely doing magic (by using the force). The point of Star Wars isn’t the tech or anything, it just happens to be a tale told in space. It contrasts pretty starkly with something like Star Trek, where the vast majority of episodes revolve around exploring whatever scientific or philosophical concept the writers thought would be kinda neat that week, using established characters as a vehicle for said exploration.
I think one of my favorite things about Honkai Star Rail is that it freely and unabashedly mixes sci-fi and fantasy. It just goes “You are a walking neutron bomb. Also turns out your bestie is from a self-reincarnating race of dragon people with powerful water and illusion magic. They live on this big, planet-sized ship that’s dedicated to hunting down this one cosmic horror that cursed all the ship’s inhabitants with immortality, under the banner of this other cosmic horror that exists solely to kill the first cosmic horror. Let’s go on vacation to the theme park planet, the actual resort is technically an Alice-in-Wonderland style dream triggered by the same kinda cosmic-horror-gifted bomb as you. Your new friend is a meme. By the way, did we tell you about the one time this super-genius harnessed the power of *imagination* to build a death ray that instantly obliterated a bunch of planets? That was kinda fucked up, huh.” Sometimes Star Rail tries to give explanations for its tech in a way that seems believably sciencey. Sometimes shit’s just straight up called magic or it’s from some deity or another and none of the characters present have a good understanding of why, so you all just go about your bullshit. It makes it work within the context of its established universe.
Cosmic horror in general is often (but not always) found in sci-fi, but where the point of sci-fi is to expand on and detail a concept in a believably scientific way or explore the impacts of a scientific thing, the point of cosmic horror is that there is a Thing that is beyond human understanding or comprehension. Sci-fi is a fun thing to insert it into, because the more scientifically sensible and well-understood elements of the world you have, the more jarring that becomes.
Then you’ve got things like Dungeon Meshi, which exists in an inverse of something like Star Rail: it takes a very Tolkien-inspired Dungeons and Dragons-esque setting, and then details it in a very scientifically sensible way. There is magic, and there are these fantastical monsters, yes, but the monsters are parts of their own delicate and intricate ecosystems, they are edible, and they have very particular nutritional values and ways you can cook them! The protag’s biggest strength lies in him being a nerd about monster biology. Magic, too, by the end of it, ends up with a plausible enough explanation as well. And the explanation is a cosmic horror! In this way, Dungeon Meshi, despite being built entirely off of very easily recognizable and classic fantasy tropes, is probably more accurately classed as sci-fi.
I just love all of it. Can I get like 50 more of these fucked up lil mixtures of science and magic please?
#ch.txt#honkai star rail#dungeon meshi#star wars#star trek#sci fi#fantasy#tagging all these bc I wanna hear if other people have cool thoughts on the subject#hopefully this isn’t considered bloating those tags or w/e#this came about from musings and conversations abt what kinda world/story I wanna write? since I’m redoing my lil sci-fantasy project
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can we maybe get curt cockwarming bucky,, but he’s just unable to sit still and is being all bratty about it since he wants to get off but bucky won’t let him 👀
This is not the one and only cockwarming ask I’ve gotten! And anon, while there is some gentle kinda cockwarming in this… there’s a lot more happening too…. Because like I’ve said before. I need a muzzle.
(I kinda just did whatever I wanted.)
Top punk baby princess Curtie in this.
Bye
This has been very sloppily edited. It’s pure smut and filth if there’s any weird errors just ignore them and love me for my flaws.
I blame @swifty-fox for a lot of what is in this. But also I blame myself for being the one to write it. 🫶🏼
Look at their beautiful art for our baby Punk Princess Curtie!!
Here’s their art tag. They spoil me daily 🩷
☣️THIS PARTICULAR DRABBLE IS LONG AS ALL FUCKIN HELL AND IS A MESS. ☣️
Because there was no specifications made, this is yet another addition to our Lucky Charms AU!
If you’re not LOCKED IN for THESE THINGS, do not read : Curt and Rosie arguments, injuries and mentions of blood, lowkey blood play, TOP CURTIS, bottom Bucky, Sub Bucky turned Dom real quick, crying, whining, spit, kinda cockwarming? I tried for the circumstances I swear, Daddy is used a few times . Oh. And Green Day.
I definitely have more cockwarming requests. So a cute and sleepy cockwarming drabble will probably happen eventually.
Bucky’s place wasn’t close to campus, but if Curt managed to catch a lift from Rosie or one of his girlfriends, then he’d manage to bribe them into dropping him off near the skate park which was only about a fifteen minute ride away from Bucky’s, if he was really putting his back into it.
He’d gone a week without seeing either of them, and while FaceTime was certainly one of the greatest modern inventions to exist, it didn’t do anyone justice — either the bar Curt was in was too loud, Bucky couldn’t figure out how to add Gale successfully to their call or Curt was balls deep in an essay about the Navier-Stokes Equations and Computational Fluid Dynamics while the other two had free time.
“I can’t go all the way to his place, Curt. I got work in like — fuck. Twenty minutes.” Rosie stared at his watch, gaze fluttering to land on Curt who stood in front of him, batting his lashes as he held his board at his hip.
“C’mon, Rosie. You’re arrangin’ bouquets all day, not protecting the government from cybersecurity attacks.” Curt stepped forward and tapped his nose. “At least not yet, Mister Digital Forensics.” His lashes fluttered again. “How ‘bout the park, then?”
When Rosie told Curt he’d gotten a job as part-time florist downtown, he’d laughed right in his face.
Ain’t no way!
Rosie stared straight at Curt, his lips tugged into a solemn line.
Wait — yo, forreal?
“I’ll — fuck — hey, Monday I’ll get you a coffee. How’s that, hm? For your troubles.” Curt made his voice sound sweet, stood before Rosie with his headphones around his neck, a loose tshirt hanging to his thighs, cutoffs revealing his scabby knees.
He blew an obnoxious bubble with his gum into Rosie’s contemplative face.
A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of resignation as he realized that continuing this argument with Curt would consume more time and energy than simply giving in. "Fine," Rosie conceded, his tone exhausted. "But you owe me a muffin, too.”
Curt flashed him a smirk once he’d plopped into the passenger seat of Rosie’s old Bronco where nothing but FM sports radio played through the muddied coaxial far older than them.
They chirped at each other for a little while about sports. None of which Curt knew a thing about besides what Bucky had told him. “Well, B says they got a good season ‘head of ‘em.” Curt popped a bubble between his teeth again, fingers fiddling with the too-loose trucks of his board to tighten them.
“You listen to everything he says?” Rosie shot a sidelong glance at Curtis, a brow risen. “It’s almost like you have no singular thoughts these days.” He continued, though he shouldn’t have. “Bucky this, Bucky that.”
The radio statics, but drones on.
That’s baseball for you folks. The Kawasaki kid has ice in his veins! One swing of the bat can change everything.
“I got plenty’a thoughts of my own.” Curt grit his teeth but forced his jaw to relax the moment he heard Gale in the back of his head, reminding him right away that his first reaction is rarely ever his best.
Relax, Curt. Take a deep breath. It’s nothing to get all bent out of shape about. Tell me a few things you can see. What do you taste? What do you smell? What can you touch?
Redbuds blooming in early spring, spent bubblegum, the leak in Rosie’s busted exhaust, the textured and worn down urethane of the wheels on his board.
“Hardly.” Rosie drummed his fingers over his steering wheel absentmindedly, reducing himself to the songs in his head since the radio in his car failed to work half the time. “You think he’s gonna keep you around when you’re graduated? Or, god forbid, you turn twenty-six and Ruthie doesn’t pay for your health insurance anymore? Officially too old for Attorney at Law, Bucky Egan.”
They hadn’t talked about Gale all that much besides the fact that he and Bucky often worked on case studies together and were usually working the same if not similar court dockets — a good friend who he certainly hadn’t dropped to his knees for.
“Fuck off with that.” Curt waved his hand at Rosie, his head shaking in disbelief and his expression one of grand theatrics. “Ain’t mine or nobody else’s fault you ain’t been laid in months. Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckin’ downer, man,” he pulled his shirt up to tighten the shoelace threaded through his belt loops. “You been on my back about it now for a while.”
“Well, all you do is talk about ‘em.”
“And, so what!?” Curt tapped his board a few times over the dashboard to taunt him and make a big, loud fuss. “You goddamn leech! You suck the fuckin’ life outta me, Robbie!” Curt was huffing through his nose, red in his cheeks and far from remembering the things he could see, taste, smell and touch. “You know Nora calls you Rosie Raincloud?” He was being venomous now, his fangs deep in Rosie’s flesh. “‘Cause you fuckin’ smother us with it, Robert. We hardly know what to say to you these days.”
Rosie had stomped his foot over the brake in one of the picturesque neighborhoods, nestled in a dreamy suburban wasteland, so different from the city.
His chin wobbled and his gaze denied Curt the satisfaction of seeing it reduced to a puddle — that hurt, but he could only really blame himself.
It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a swing at Curtis Biddick and got hit back twice as hard.
“You don’t gotta say nothin’.” Curt swung the passenger side door open and jumped out, his head sticking into the window for one last twist of the knife in Rosie’s chest. “Coffee shop ain’t even fuckin’ open on Mondays.”
Rosie peeled off, leaving Curt to hop on his board and kick his legs as hard and fast as he possibly could, his headphones tugged back over his ears and the volume turned up as loud as it could go.
City of the dead, at the end of another lost highway.
Signs misleading to nowhere
He tried his hardest not to think about how he had acted, and the things he had said to Rosie — in truth, Curt was better equipped to handle what Rosie had been saying to him since after all it was his own opinion, which he’d reserved the right to.
Curt didn’t need to scream at him the way he did, or bring up Rosie’s sudden knack for draping a wet blanket over every conversation.
It didn’t get them anywhere.
His mind drifted so far away and his chest heaved with ragged breaths as he kicked his legs to the beat of the drum line in the song he listened to.
Angry, sloppy, reckless.
He stopped to take out some energy on the railings of concrete neighborhood staircases, finding his inability to make it down all the way in a front side a new irritant to focus on instead of the guilt he felt for hurting Rosie before his shift at the flower shop.
Until sunset he occupied his mind — or, until his exhausted body had failed him for the last time and sent his face into concrete. “I hear ya.” He mumbled at the sky, assuming it was all karmic as he reached into the grass nearby to grab his phone which had flown out of his pocket the first time the railing swiped him right between his ass cheeks and straight to his tailbone.
His body ached, his screen was cracked, there was glass in his thumb.
He hardly announced his presence anymore, fucking up the gate code a few times due to the shakiness of his fingers and dropping his keys to his feet while he attempted to unlock the front door, a wild and unabashed string of cocksuckingmotherfuckingpiecesofshit falling from his lips once he’d kicked the door closed with the back of his heel, limping into the kitchen to nose around for a snack, although he had really expected Bucky to be on his second glass of wine by then, his iPad an inch from his face as he browsed the internet for a new dinner recipe.
“Hey,” Bucky called from the garden where he lounged in his tightest swimming shorts — the ones that showed off the thick muscle of his thighs and the curve of his toned hips. “Hey!” He’d been calling to Curtis from the open French doors that lead to the pool, the sun still too bright to realize Curt was bleeding from an unknown source on his face with his headphones still blaring music into his brutalized eardrums.
Where have all the bastards gone?
The underbelly stacks up ten high.
“Dammit, Curtis.” Bucky got up from where he was laying, riddled with irritation that Curt didn’t come squealing into his lap like he always did, attacking him like a sucker fish on any bit of skin he left visible.
His footsteps weren’t detected by Curt that peeled a string cheese layer by layer, half of his body reaching into the fridge to find something else to eat. “If you’re gonna use my money for things like this, at least give me the satisfaction of -“ he’d reached to pull Curt’s headphones away from his ears which had inadvertently caused Curt to whip around, bright blue eyes starkly contrasted by the flow of crimson that stained his lips and neck.
This wasn’t the first time, nor the last.
Still, Bucky let out a sigh as Curt continued to feed himself strings of cheese, blinking up at Bucky as if nothing had been out of place — though, even John would admit, this got easier each time.
“What was it this time?”
Curt sighed, his shoulders shrugging. “Don’t even remember.”
He was so lost in his own thoughts about his fight with Rosie that he could hardly recall what he had landed and what he hadn’t — he had no notes to give himself and nothing he could set his intentions to improve on later.
He threw his body around for four hours and got nothing out of it. And, not to mention, he may have lost a friend.
Bucky shoved his face in Curt’s neck once he’d pulled him nearer, so damp with sweat and radiating heat like the surface of the sun. So bright, so warm, so absolutely gorgeous. “Need to keep all your braincells the way they are.” He murmured, drawing in the scent of him while his lips pressed kisses to the salty heat on the soft flesh of his neck.
Curt still felt sore about what he’d done to Rosie but with Bucky in front of him like this, his hands groping his sides to pull him closer, it grew more and more difficult to think about anything else. “C’mon, m’fuckin’ filthy, Bucky.” He whispered, his voice barely there.
“Oh, I know.”
The sun continued to set beneath the hedges in the garden and the breeze that blew through the open doors had cooled him down enough, but Bucky had done very little to stop his sweating — his palms splayed over the softness of Curt’s hips, the small of his back, the curve of his neck. “You need me to kiss it all better, don’t you?” Bucky could taste the metallic sting dance over his tastebuds. “Need me to lick you clean, hm?”
Curt had still felt the hot sting of anger in his belly, the annoyance with himself for getting it all wrong, the frustration of having no control over what he said, his emotions, and how he reacted to them.
He pushed himself forward, chest to Bucky’s until he was backed into the center island, his skin stained down to the neck of his tshirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” The blue of his iris had darkened like the deepest parts of the ocean — the most dangerous. “Can’t wait to have me down your throat, huh?”
Bucky could hardly suppress the expression coloring his features as a searing chill trickled over every inch of his body. “Fuck,” his palms flattened again over Curt’s sides and down to the curve of his ass where he grabbed two handfuls, pressing his body closer and closer. “Look at you.”
He looked fucked up on himself, mesmerized by his own power, his own influence — Bucky was the softest, warmest putty between his bloody fingers. “Been thinkin’,” Curt grabbed Bucky’s jaw, forcing his lips to part as his own grew inches away. “When you cut your finger. Made me think, ya know — it made your face get all screwed up, made you whine a little.”
Bucky had sliced his finger clean open on a new set of knives Gale got him for Christmas months ago, the blades still sharp as the day he brought them out of the box.
“Think you can make me whine?” Bucky’s voice had drawn itself deep into his chest, teased by Curt who leaned himself in as if he’d finally give Bucky what he wanted, a true taste of what he knew he was missing out on, just to pull away a flash him a grin with front teeth slicked with blood.
“I can do anything.” Curt chirped back.
He pressed his hand into Bucky’s chest again, the other cradling his jaw as he walked him backward and himself forward, a wall behind them eventually where Curt slotted his leg between Bucky’s thick thighs. “What’s the over under?”
Bucky liked to gamble with his work buddies on Saturdays.
Curt would sit by idly near a high stakes poker table or the screen where Bucky and his friends would bet on ponies and he’d drink boozy milkshakes and flirt with the cocktail waitresses he had no interest in for a couple complimentary vouchers for the buffet where he only used the soft serve machine or the gift shop where a collection of cute coffee mugs were sold, and he had his heart set on acquiring them all without spending a dime.
“Not a chance.” Bucky tilted his head back against the wall, his narrow gaze fixed on Curt who hooked his fingers over the waistband of Bucky’s swimming shorts. “I don’t make bets on thoroughbreds without a track record, baby.”
Curt had yet to reveal this particular side of himself.
Sure, he was tough.
He’d bust his lip, his ass or his nose and get back up giggling. He’d fall off and get right back on. He’d argue his side of the story, he’d stand firm in his beliefs.
But he’d never claimed to be dominant in the way he’s portraying now.
The fact that he could wasn’t so much a shock, it was that he chose right then to do it.
“Smart man.” Curt shoved his fingers into Bucky’s mouth, holding him still with his thumb curved beneath his jaw. “On your knees.” He hooked his fingers a little tighter and guided Bucky down to where he balanced on his haunches until his knees fell forward, forcing him to sit on his folded legs where Bucky stared up at him expectantly.
So fucking beautiful.
He already knew what to do, as he’d done it for Curt plenty — his cutoffs were shucked down to his ankles and kicked across the room, his bloody tshirt following suit. Bucky had a hard time figuring how he’d be the one whining instead of Curt until he felt the familiar sensation of tiny fingers threading through his thick brown waves, tugged a little tighter than ever before.
“Go on,” Curt whispered in a shallow breath, “Get me wet for you.”
Bucky could hardly believe his ears, the shock drawing him quickly to obey a Curtis who was typically mounting himself over Bucky right about now, spouting off about how Bucky’s cock is so big and how he can feel it in his tummy.
He worked his tongue over every curve and vein of Curt’s cock only for hips to be drawn closer to his face, his eyes brimming with a sudden surge of cock-teased tears, “Fuck,” Curt grumbled, the blood drying now over his still damp and glimmering skin. “Look so fuckin’ hot with a cock down your throat.”
Rather quickly the spot in Curt’s belly where he held his rage earlier was replaced by the butterfly feeling of having Bucky’s mouth on him — until, of course, Curt had coaxed him into position atop an expensive area rug in the living room, knelt between his thighs once he’d removed Bucky’s slutty swim shorts from his hips.
“Didn’t know how pretty ya’d look like this.” Curt took in the sight of a pink-cheeked Bucky, his thighs spread and his cock achingly hard, curved deliciously over the little trail of hair beneath his bellybutton.
He’d yet to let out a whine, but if he didn’t feel Curtis closer to him soon, he’d be waving a white flag as he went down with the ship. “Kiss me,” it came out in an almost bashful plea as his eyes scanned the lips before him, the dull dried blood brought to life again each time Curt licked his lips. “Please.”
“Ohh,” it was an almost taunting coo. “Got your manners, huh?” A dribble of spit slid past Curt’s parted lips and between Bucky’s spread thighs, his cock slicked gently past the hole that tensed at the sensation. “Relax for me.” Curt whispered, his hips grinding his length against Bucky’s which already twitched. “Show me how good you are.”
Bucky hardly knew if he was able to be good, but he’d try. “Please.” He whispered again, though he was careful not to allow his desperation to show. “Just fuckin’ kiss me.”
Curt rolled his eyes, spitting again but that time it was at Bucky’s chest, tinged pink from the blood still lingering on his tongue. “You don’t make the rules, John.” He basked again at the sight before him — glowing cheekbones, parted lips, hands reaching to spread the dampness Curt had spat onto him around his chest and into his own mouth.
“Not when I got you lookin’ like this.”
It seemed Bucky had leaned into it, his body still tense but his eyes soft as could be.
Curt rut his hips between his cheeks, a rumbled string of groans bubbling from his loins as his right hand milked a couple little pearls of precum from Bucky’s cock that throbbed beneath his grip. “Y’like this, don’t you?” He whispered softly, his usual playfulness still dripping over every word; sticky sweet.
“Yeah, baby.” Bucky gasped, still willing his gaze to focus on what was before him although he was hardly able to discern if it was real or not. “Gonna fuck me?” He felt another sting of anticipation dance over each notch of his spine.
Curt grinned deviously, little body slotted between Bucky’s thighs that could easily overpower him but wouldn’t dare. At least not yet. “Need to get you ready for me,” he reached forward, his fingers slid gently into Bucky’s mouth and over his soft, warm tongue.
It wasn’t long before Curt could hardly stave off his excitement, fingers gentle but prodding against Bucky’s hole that took a finger to the knuckle easier than he’d been expecting, a gasp following suit. “Fuck,” Bucky whispered, his hips instinctively twitching at the unfamiliar sensation. “Fuck — fuck, fuck,”
A second finger, a third.
Lube from a drawer in the coffee table slicked over Curt’s thick fingers as he worked them into Bucky whose brows furrowed, pillowy pink lips parted as gentle huffs escaped them.
“Talk to me, Daddy.” Curt whispered, knelt down between Bucky’s thighs like a predator sizing up its prey that just so happened to be twice the size of himself. “Do I make you feel good?” His fingers worked Bucky open while he pressed rough and starved kisses over his thighs that twitch every now and then.
“Yeah, baby.” Bucky sucked a breath between his teeth, his heart flipping in his chest once Curt’s fingers had found his prostate.
He held in a whine that crept up on him in the very back of his throat and Curtis could tell. “Such a good fuckin’ boy, Curtie. Fuck —“ Bucky threaded his fingers through Curt’s hair, chest heaving once his fingers found a rhythm.
Curt could hardly believe his eyes, falling in love again with a new version of Bucky he’d never met before — all soft hues of pink and deliciously tanned skin, lips glistening with spit and his gorgeous eyes half-hidden behind eyelids that fluttered. “You look so pretty like this.” He mouthed at Bucky’s balls and the base of his cock, pressing sweet kisses against his sensitive skin.
Bucky could hardly deny himself what he wanted anymore as he whispered a gentle plea, “Fuck me.”
Curt hummed between his legs, sitting up slowly to observe yet another angle once he’d carefully withdrew from Bucky altogether to line their hips up, his cock eventually replacing the fingers that gripped Bucky’s thighs instead to spread them wider. “Think you’re ready?” He leaned his chest over Bucky’s, chaste kisses pressed against his open mouth.
“Mhmmm.” Bucky mustered, their kisses hot and wet and sloppy — uncoordinated and needy. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than this. “Put that big cock to use for once.”
An interesting spot he was in to be making snide remarks, Curtis thought, and so he gave him exactly what he’d wanted.
He lined himself up nice and gentle before snapping his hips forward, pulling Bucky closer by his thighs once he’d abruptly buried himself within the tight, wet heat before him.
And there it was.
A long winded whine that started low and gentle had died out high-pitched and breathy right into Curtis’ mouth who continued to lick, kiss and nip at Bucky’s wet lips. “Oh, listen to you.” Curt drawled, allowing John to adjust before his hips had found a slow rhythm, watching as the man beneath him writhed.
“Gonna have you fuckin’ cryin’ for my cock all the time now, hm?”
Bucky choked back a whimper he couldn’t even pretend to hide, desperate and sweat slicked hands grasping onto Curt — anything to hold. “Feels s-so— fuck, baby - “ he could hardly form a coherent thought once Curt picked up his pace, hand hardly big enough to wrap around Bucky’s throat but he kept a tight grip, nonetheless.
Bucky still felt a little shy about this.
A little out of place.
Eventually, the unfamiliarity and pain had quickly tumbled and grew larger into an indescribable pleasure once Curt’s hips had little to hold back any longer, fucking into Bucky relentlessly who took it like he’d been meant to all along.
Uh-uh-uhs were forced out of him, his thighs spread wider and his eyes managing to focus again when he began to pant like he was reaching the finish line.
Curt was so far from done with him.
“Ah-ah,” he withdrew abruptly, watching Bucky writhe again and attempt to pull him back in. “I got you all worked up, don’t I?” His hands smoothed over Bucky’s damp curls, tugging gently. “Takin’ my cock so good, never knew you were such a fuckin’ —“
Bucky sucked in a deep breath and used his legs to flip Curtis onto his back, knocking the wind out of him.
“Think you’re tough now, huh?” He still looked like a fucked-out mess, his eyes half lidded and his heart pounding in his chest. “Had your cock in me and forgot how easy Daddy can have you gagging for him.”
Curt tried to push Bucky’s hands off of him, his cheeks still slathered in dried blood turning pink beneath the mess. “Had you close-“ his rebuttal was quickly snipped once Bucky had slicked his fingers in with lube and brought them between Curt’s cheeks, hooked into him and pulling him closer.
“Get the fuck off me.” Curt tried to put up a fight but his body had been betraying him as his thighs spread for Bucky, his feet lifted from the floor as he moaned at the roughness of it, a punishment it seemed for denying Bucky the pleasure he’d been so vulnerable to receive.
“Nobody takes it like my baby does,” Bucky basked in the familiarity and the tightness around his fingers that hammered into Curt until his thighs were shaking and the back of his knees dripped in sweat. “Isn’t that right?”
Big, fat tears had once again revived the dried blood that had smeared itself over his face by then, every moan that rattled out of him tumbling into a choked sob. “Fuck you.” He whined, his white flag waved with confidence as he went down with the ship Bucky had since abandoned and yet he still managed to put up a fight. “Mother fucker.”
“Oh, that’s not how good boys behave, Curtis.”
Fingers were replaced with Bucky’s cock, Curt’s features softening at the familiar sensation, the one thing he’d ask for on death row.
This is his truest Last Supper.
There was no movement by Bucky, though.
He buried his cock deep into Curtis, swearing to himself that when they were just like this, he could see the bulge of his cock in Curtis’ little belly. “You know what happens when you’re bad, don’t you?”
“I wasnt!” Curt barked, desperately trying to withdrawal from Bucky and snap his hips back again. “I wasn’t bad - I- I wasn’t-“ he was a mess of tears again, the emotions of the day crashing down on him in a heap. “You fuckin’ cocksuckin’—“
The exam he failed, his fight with Rosie, his busted face, and now this.
“Nah,” Bucky held Curt’s thighs to his chest, his cock staying right in its place, not an inch of movement. “Gonna stay just like this until you can show me how sorry you are.”
There, Bucky realized, was his place.
He had never minded being vulnerable with Curtis — in fact, vulnerability was his strong suit.
At first, he was the worst out of the two when it came to expressing his feelings, his thoughts and his emotions.
In the end it was only ever because of the judgement he feared of receiving for loving Curtis. Someone younger than himself, more reckless, with more life to live.
“I’m sorry,” Curt sniffled loudly, a puddle of old blood, tears and a runny nose that threatened to bleed again, the drip metallic and sour in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry — I - I’ll never be bad again, I promise.”
They both knew a lie when they heard one.
“I’m so good for you.” Curt arched his back, anything for a little friction against his suddenly neglected and angry looking cock. “Look at me — I’m all yours, Bucky. Every part of me — I—“ he sobbed again, reaching down to touch himself but he was abruptly denied, his wrists held above his head. “Fuck me till I can’t fuckin’ breathe.”
Bucky felt sick for being so turned on.
A whimpering, whining, crying Curtis before him with a hot and hard cock that leaked beautifully against the little trail of hair below his bellybutton. “Oh, my pretty baby.” He cooed, reaching forward to wipe his crybaby tears away and granting him just a bit of movement when he did. “I couldn’t let you forget, honey — look what I’ve done to you.”
Curt tried again to surge forward and gain an upper hand, but it was disastrously useless.
Bucky was far stronger than he, even despite being fucked open just a moment ago. “Dunno what I’m gonna do with you.” He murmured, pulling away from Curtis at once and bringing him gently to his feet, holding him against the wall where Bucky felt he’d be doing his knees and Curt’s back a favor once he lifted him up off the ground and around his waist.
It was brutal after that, and for once Curt was unsure he could handle it. “Too much! T-too much,” he whimpered, but Bucky could hardly be bothered. “It’s too much — I can’t-“
If it was truly too much, Curt knew what he needed to say.
A safe word was set in stone the first time Curt had passed out and hit the floor, his brow split open.
All he cared about when he came to was finishing, though — even with an almost-crying Bucky and Gale in his face, worried beyond reason.
“Yes, you can, baby.” Bucky groaned, knowing full well Curt’s orgasm was dependent on the completion of his own.
Didn’t matter how much Curt was fucked.
If he wasn’t full of it, he just couldn’t get off.
A rather endearing blessing, but a curse just the same.
“I can’t Bucky, I can’t.” A wreck he was — and Bucky loved reducing him to such a state. Babbling, whining, his voice strained through the tears he choked on. “S’too much.”
Luckily, it was enough to sputter Bucky’s hips forward, hips rolling into Curt to milk his orgasm while Curt’s hole fluttered around his cock, his little body pulsing as he threw his head back against the wall where he thumped a few brain cells loose.
Bucky reached up to hold the back of his head, clicking his tongue. “There you go, honey,” he whispered gently to a Curtis whose body trembled through an earth shattering orgasm, “Let it all go, baby. Look at how much you’re givin’ me.”
Curt’s body was covered in sweat, blood, tears and now a splattered mess of his devotion to Bucky — hot and wet; sticky and so fucking sweet.
Bucky plopped them both onto the couch, Curt’s body wrapping around him and refusing to give his cock back despite it growing softer by the minute. “I love you.” He hiccuped into Bucky’s neck, the emotions flooding back to him once he’d been dumped right back into his reality — the one where he failed his test and more than likely lost a friend. “So much.”
“C’mon, Curt. Y’know I love you more than anything.” Bucky smoothed his hands over Curt’s damp curls, pulling his face away from the curve of his neck to look at him. “What’s goin’ on with you?”
He couldn’t talk about it now.
Just wanted to be here, in Bucky’s lap, the warmth of their love still burning inside him. “Later.” He whispered, sniffling loudly. “I’ll tell you later.”
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Sounds like somebody's a little jealous
#i literally stopped working on all of my other drawings when the spamton sweepstakes happened#and said fuck it lets just work on this for like a week straight#deltarune#spamton g spamton#addisons#swatchlings#art tag lol
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Hiiii i am back from work and am. Spiraling
#it genuinely feels like im getting dimentia#or maybe just a super severe internal psychosis episode#i reaallly wish the CEO of my workplace fucking killed himself after turning the place into a non profit#this shit is legitimately killing me#i have zero freetime#i havent showered all weed#week#and i havent done my laundry either#and i also just now foujd out that Ill very likely be moving in 2 months instead of the expected 6#andlike.#everyone at my work wont make me forget that things get chaotic when im not there solike.#which is too much responsibility on a 21 year old#but it makes me wanna throw up and commit horrific acts of violence bc ik everything will crash once i leave but like#like i said. iM ONLY TWENTY ONE AND HAVE ZERO TIME TO EVEN GET IMPORTANT MEDICAL AND LEGAL SHIT DONE!!!!#lET ALONE EVEN BE A 21 YEAR OLD!!!!!!!!!!#if my morning coworker wasnt the actual best coolest and most stimulating person in my life right now i would be in prison right now#nofucking joke i need someone to see just how not okay i am bc im tearing off my flesh for everyone and im getting down to the bones#and once i get down to the bones i will just straight up explode#like book a bus ticket to troy and uh....#anyways i need to go bc i am so not okay rn!!!!!!#tony speaks#tony vents
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Every time someone well-meaning suggests I see a chiropractor for my migraines, I have this little moment of "ah, you're new here. You weren't here prior to 2018 when a chiropractor very gently adjusted my neck for my migraines, and I ended up having to get an emergency MRI because the ensuing symptoms were indicative of a brain bleed."
It wasn't a brain bleed. The muscles on the entire right side of my neck "just" tore (Spoiler there is nothing "just" about that kind of traumatic injury. I am still in physical rehab for it), and I couldn't hold my head up, see straight, walk or do any of the things I'd previously taken for granted until several weeks later when the area finally started to heal.
This was before I knew I had Ehlers Danlos, btw. But this is true even for people who don't have a connective tissue disorder: Don't let chiropractors touch your neck.
There are a lot of vital nerves and blood vessels there, and even gentle adjustments of the area can have life-threatening consequences.
I know chiropractic care can be pain relieving--I still get it for my lower back and hips because I work with a chiropractor who knows about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and sometimes my hips need to be popped back in at short notice, and it's easier to hop walk in and see her than wait for physical therapy--but it is a short-term relief that doesn't actually correct why something is happening.
If you can afford it, physical therapy will likely help more in the long term. I know not everyone can afford it, and that's why chiropractors have such a booming trade in the US, but please, I'm begging you, don't get your neck adjusted.
The spinal cord specialist I saw after my injury told me the number one reason he used to see people for traumatic brain injuries was car wrecks, followed by other major roadside injuries. He said those numbers were still the highest, but after that, the majority of his patients were survivors of chiropractic injury.
Do Not Get Your Neck Adjusted.
It's been over 5 years, and I still can't move my neck properly on my right side. I still struggle to eat and drink because my muscles will randomly seize up. It feels like my skull no longer fits on top of my spine because of the scar tissue. Please. I just want people to be safe.
And if you are a chiropractor reading this and thinking, "Well, I've never injured anyone, skill issue." No. You Have Gotten Lucky. Rethink how you apply your trade. Please, you can still help people while recommending safer options for specific body parts. Learn to do pressure point release and acupressure. Teach patients how to stretch and relax the area safely. Just fucking stop cracking people's necks like pop rock candy.
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also this week has beat me tf up and it’s only thursday 😂 but it’s fine because my week was front loaded so i don’t work again until monday i have time to recover my sanity !!! and also while it was very tiring it was also a very cute week. lots of solid cuddle time w the babes. yesterday me and b2 straight up just cuddled up on the couch under some blankets and listened to music for an hour straight. also they’ve both started doing this thing where whenever i say “okay i’m tired i’m gonna get comfy here and curl up w a blanket and pillow” (ofc i cannot truly nap while the babes are awake but i CAN lay down and watch them out of the corner of my eye whilst lazing about and i’ll only even get my head stepped on like three times) b2 will stop what he’s doing and just come over and give me a kiss and g1 is doing it too because monkey see monkey do and it is. the sweetest and most thoughtful and beautiful thing in the world. he doesn’t say anything he’s just like “oh daina is laying down. better give her a kiss to go along with her coziness.” like wtf. who allowed him to be the cutest sweetest boy in the whole wide world???? who gave him permission to turn my heart to goo???? insane. anyways i love my job a whole lot even when it means i need to sequester myself in bed for a full day afterwards like a victorian maiden too overwhelmed by the stresses of the world. children are so wild but so lovely to be around. but also. sometimes they both scream at the same time and i don’t care for that at ALL. can’t win a fight with a 2 year old i’ll tell you that! they may not win but they will make damn sure that you lose
#d speaks#d works#also yeah baby girl has been such a cuddle bug lately and it is so sweet#she also turned one this week!!!!! can u believe!!!!!! my sweet girl !!!!! so old !!!!!&#she’s such a toddler now like you say no to her and she gets PISSED#she has such big opinions and desires and she knows exactly what she wants and will not be deterred it’s so fun to watch#even when what she wants is to put herself in danger#last night she was climbing on b’s chair at the dinner table and fell and bashed her face off the table. very scary for all of us!#could’ve gotten very hurt!! mama who is a ped had to stop and c#screamed her head off for five minutes straight and then. and then !#demands her mom free her from hug prison. mama lets her go (she’s uninjured) and you know what this little girl does????#she goes RIGHT BACK OVER TO THE CHAIR TO TRY AND CLIMB UP AGAIN#mommy grabbed her down and we all said ‘honey no what on earth’ and then she was soooooo mad we wouldn’t let her climb it 😂😂😂😂#like MAAM YOU JUST FELL OVER TWO FEET AND SMACKED UR FACE ON A WOODEN TABLE ON FHE WAY DOWN#NO we aren’t gonna let u try again!!!!!! sorry!!!!!!#kids are so fucking funny
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so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.
this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.
somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.
i used betterhelp.
i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.
the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.
they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.
the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.
i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."
i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.
the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.
i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.
in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.
the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.
betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.
i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.
there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.
in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.
i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.
#writeblr#the book....#coming soon#hey so if ur someone who has ever said “you need to write a book”#i wrote the book#it's ... probably the best thing ive ever written#this is maybe too honest lol#okay to reblog thank you for asking i love u i am in love with u our wedding will be in may
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skfkdkksksk
#original entry#cw vent#i am just...so frustrated all the time#not like constantly or 24/7 but every week or every other week(end) i just get refrustrated over the same thing#im in my head abt it rn bc my 1yr anniversary with my partner is coming up but our future just looks so...far away. unclear.#weve talked for a while abt moving in together. nothing happened. i put my foot down like 'lets actually work towards this' and we looked#at places and tried to schedule tours tho unfortunately were never able to bc most placed never got back to us (one place was straight up#and said they werent able to do tours rn which yanno fine)#this was really stressing me out but ultimately out of my control#after that they said they wanted to wait until they got a better job which is fine but its been several months and im not sure when they#even last applied anywhere#on one hand i know that its stressful job hunting and so i want to be patient#but on the other hand sometimes i feel like all i do is wait around for them and im fucking tired of waiting#ive lived at home since march 2020 and am now in a place financially where i could move out but i feel like im being held back#i do want to have a life w my partner but they dont always act like they want to despite saying they do#im fucking sick of spending weekends at their parents house (bc they r in a similar situation like me) and driving back and forth all the#time. i hate leaving bc i feel like i shouldnt have to leave bc we should just be living together#but then sometimes im not sure i do wanna live together#im so conflicted and stressed and i hate that i have to be frustrated over this so often bc i shouldnt have to fucking tell them over and#over i should just be listened to and acknowledged#i want the fucking truth i want their actions to reflect their words i want to actually feel like we can be adults and live together and#work towards a future but they cant even pick out fucking cereal to eat in the morning
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BC!simon smut is my new prescription (no but fr when i’m having a shit day i just go through that tag bc i need him bad)
I’m having the absolute worst week. work fucking sucks and now I have a cold. so it’s comfort hours with bc!simon. but like kinda mean dom simon 🥺
c/n: smut, bondage, kindameandom!simon, female reader, edging, crying during sex, simon pulls all that negative tension from your body with his dick
just imagine getting snippy with him when he gets home, mumbling under your breath and glaring at him when he tracks in mud on your clean carpet
he doesn’t say a word just lets you have your moment. tucks the kids into bed and stands in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you wash up
can see the tension in your shoulders so he just comes up to you, presses a kiss to the top of your head and tells you to go and wait for him in your room
finishes up the washing for you before coming to find you. finds you waiting for him on the end of your bed, wearing nothing but your panties and the shirt you always sleep in. some oversized limp bizkit shirt that simon stopped wearing years ago
“had a bad day, lovie?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he walks over to you. his calloused hand reaches up to pinch the soft cheeks on your face
“simon-“ you begin to speak but he just shakes his head, shushing you softly
“heard enough out of your mouth for one night. answer the question. yes or no?” he says, hands reaching down to unbuckle his trousers. you give him a slow nod
“see? know you can be good for me, can’t ya, dolly?” he grumbles out, flicking his head up as an instruction to raise your arms
he undresses you, a heavy silence filling your shared bedroom as he helps you shuffle up the bed before tying your wrists to the bedposts with his leather belt
“can see how tense you are, darlin’. don’t worry, ‘m gonna take care of ya’. you just need your husband to make it alright.” he hums, tugging on your wrist to make sure your restraints weren’t too tight nor too loose
“‘red’ if ya’ wanna stop, yeah?” he checks in, pulling off his t-shirt and trousers. you nod your head again, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache that rests between them
he’d kiss down from your neck to your abdomen, slipping off your panties with ease before diving straight in, soft groans leaving his throat as he drags his tongue through your slit
spends a good 30 minutes sucking and lapping at your sopping cunt, bringing you to the edge over and over but never giving you that sweet release, always pulling away right before your body falls into that out of euphoria
“simon! you said you were gonna take care of me! you’re being mean!” you whine out, bucking your hips to try and meet his lips after he left you teetering on the edge. again…
he lets out a grunt in response, switching positions so he’s kneeling between your spread legs,
“I know. ‘m such an horrible bastard, aren’t I?” he says with a teasing tone, fishing his cock out from boxers and dragging the tip through your slit
“breathe.” is all the warning he gives you before slipping his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt with one swift thrust of his hips
the sudden invasive feeling of his cock filling you up knocks the air of of your lungs, your hands desperate to reach out to grip his shoulders for leverage but the tight belt around your wrists restricts you
he wastes no time in pushing the top of your thighs to your chest, setting an animal pace as he begins to fuck your pussy
“si-simon!” you gasp out, your body moves in time with each of his thrusts, one of his hands resting on the crown of your head to stop you hitting it against the wooden headboard
“promise me one thing, yeah, sweethear’? one thing and i’ll let ya cum…” he grunts, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss just below your earlobe
his brutal pace combined with the former orgasm denial meant it didn’t take long for you to start teetering towards the edge again. your hands tug on your makeshift restraints, letting a soft whine escape your throat
“please, anything. please, si…” you beg and plead. almost pathetically, in simon’s opinion but it’s okay… he knows how bad you need it
the loud slapping of his hips hitting yours echoes throughout the room as he leans down, his pace never falters as he rests his forehead against yours
“next time you’re having a bad day, you’ll ask your husband to fuck ya better instead of walking around givin’ me lip…” he grunts, “promise me that and i’ll let ya cum, pretty…”
you nod your head erratically, tears welling up in your eyes and the overwhelming realisation that you’re so close to getting what you want, to feeling those euphoric waves crash all over your body and suck all the tension and stress from your bones
“promise, fuck, I promise…!” you sob out, tears slipping down your cheeks. you can’t even wait for further permission from simon. your orgasm claws it’s way out of you, vocalising itself with loud sobs
simon places his hand over your mouth, worried your load moans will wake the sleeping children in the next room
his pace never falters as he fucks you through your orgasm, your tears down your cheeks and onto his knuckles. your pussy pulses around his cock, milking his own orgasm from him shortly after
the feeling off his hot cum flushing the walls of your pussy adds a whole other layer of pleasure to your climax. you yank on the restraints and look up at simon with your teary eyes
he takes his hand from your mouth, your loud sobs having turned into the soft cries as he reaches to untie your wrists. you instantly lower them to wrap around his broad shoulders, pulling his body against yours as his once harsh pace slows down to slow grinds
“tha’s it, lovie. good girl, jus’ let it out…” he whispers in your ear, cradling your face into the crook of his neck as you cry softly
“th-thank you…” you choke out, gently digging your nails into the muscle of his back as a silent plea to just stay exactly where he is
he doesn’t pull out of you, just lays there with you, softly petting your hair and pressing kisses to the side of your face
#mw2#cod mw2#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#bluecollar!simon#mw2 x reader#call of duty mw3#cod mwii#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost call of duty#simon riley smut#simon riley x you
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Tell me you love me
Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.
Word count: 2512.
Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).
People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.
He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.
It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.
He doesn’t show it, though.
He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?
But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.
And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?
You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.
But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.
He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.
You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”
He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.
“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.
“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.
You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”
“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.
You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”
“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.
You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.
He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.
“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.
When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.
He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.
I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.
You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.
Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.
He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.
You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?
I feel like you don’t care about me.
If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?
Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?
That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.
But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.
A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.
Instead it's Yuji, his brother.
Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?
Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.
He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?
He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.
"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.
Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?
"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.
You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."
Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.
And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.
You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.
"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.
"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.
And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.
"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.
You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.
"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.
"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.
"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.
"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.
"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.
"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.
"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."
Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.
#sukuna jjk#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x reader#sukuna angst#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fic#jjk angst#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#sukuna x you
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ⓘ SIM JAEYUN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE.
❪ 🕸️ ❫────𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋, 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁!
( NOTES. ) where you are JAKE SIM'𝓼 MJ. fluff, suggestive in some places fem!centered. lowercase intded. 2040wc. 𓈃 ๋ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠 requests are open. happy new year guys!
REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS WOULD BE REALLY APPRECIATED!
now playing. sunflower by post malone, stay by justin beiber.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who first notices you when you knock out his target with your tote bag because you saw him running from the neighborhood hero. immediately catching his attention with your cute face and fiercely aggressive yet again cute anger. gods knows what was in that bag, or maybe it was the angle or the way you swung it, he thinks back on it calculating shit to make it make sense and it does but nevertheless you're still cute and awesome.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who accidentally finds the little bookstore you work part-time at every monday, wednesday and fridays. always hovering around the area on the said days coincidentally exactly during the hours of your shift.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who sometimes changes out of his suit in the alleyways nearby into his nerd get up to drop by at your bookstore and always look for books that you don't happen to have as he asks at the frontdesk and you reply with your sweet smile and your sweet voice that's he finds himself getting addicted to.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who later finds out you go to his university and have been in his chem class for two years but he hasn't ever noticed you? well that's because he started being the friendly little hero just the week you transferred having no other focus than his newfound superpowers. it's a shame he thinks he could be celebrating his two year anniversary with you right now but in reality you don't even know his name.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who as stalkerish as it sounds has pictures of you in his phone, candid clicks in the bookstore to you clad in your labcoat in chem. a whole folder in his laptop where he has planned it all out how he's going to win your heart.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who loves coming in to save you at the right time and how the bad side happens to go for you even though you haven't become his woman yet. not that he'll let you know he's the one behind the mask it's too dangerous if others were to find out you were associated with the man himself and aim for you. he can't risk losing you.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who kind of becomes friends with you in his superhero disguise but still a stranger as jake. and it's all because of the numerous saves where he flirts with you shamelessly after defeating the enemy. "don't you think it's too much of a coincidence how i always come for your rescue?" hanging upside down at your face right after knocking out the black hat, "i think it's destiny," lowering the pitch of his voice as he moves even closer.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who now drops by in your bookstore in his suit for a quick flirt and who hopelessly stares at you across the room in uni wondering when it'll be jake's turn and not the friendly neighborhood spiderman.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who gets caught while staring and confronted by an uncomfortable you whether there's something he needs. and who has his clumsy ass exposed the same night when he's fighting right outside your window, his mask getting pulled off by the monster. his wide eyes looking straight at you like a deer caught in headlights as you realize it all. fuck, it's all over.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who gets hit and punched more than usual because he thinks he's lost his chance with you, but having his world blown over when you let him in, more like invite and clean off his wounds for him.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who can't keep his eyes off the tiny pajama set you have on but he also can't do anything because now he has an identity you know of, a face you'll either love or hate. no longer be able to hide behind his mask to hit on you. truly his feelings show on his face, in his eyes, the way they stay stuck on the plush of your thighs, on the fallen strap of your top as you stand between his legs, hand on his jaw holding it up while you apply the ointment on the corner of his lips. "what were you thinking? you never got beaten this bad!" "you don't wanna know," oh how hot you are when you scold him.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who thinks he's in utopia with how you had no trouble accepting him as spiderman. even seeming more interested than ever. but no he will not get his hopes up yet.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who dies and ascends to heaven when he comes back to say goodnight and you pull down his mask to leave a kiss on his lips, "goodnight," "w-what?" "i'll see you in chem tomorrow, hm?" "yeah? yeah, right goodnight,"
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who calls you his sunflower eversince, assuming you've that kind of a situationship. his symbol of faith, positivity and hope. his corner of peace in his topsy-turvy life.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who takes you on unofficial swing dates, his mind travelling places when your body presses into his as you hold on for dear life. it's hot though the way he shoots the spider-web and swings. but it's even hotter when you're sitting in his room watching him work on upgrading his high tech suit and web formulae.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who goes "you have something here," pointing at a spot besides your lips before leaning in and leaving a soft kiss there then moving towards your lips in a pepper of more each getting convulsively harsher.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who tucks your hair behind your ear when they fall into your eyes as you speak. listening to each and everything you say and the way your lips move and your hair frames your face.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who buys you gifts and leaves them in the bookstore with short little sweet notes. who takes selfies of him in his suit half up in the air mid-swing and updates you about his day. "hey sunflower, im on my way to find this new flying green elf they say has been going around causing trouble, i'm so excited!" his voice notes sound with a quick hey watch out! or something in background as he almost falls off in the middle of the road texting you.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who videocalls you at night and watches you fall asleep as he repairs his fight damaged suits, smiling at the sight of your pouty lips and the way your cheeks squish against the pillow when you snuggle into it, wishing it was him instead.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who short-circuits and malfunctions when you find the secret folder in his laptop looking through his perfect plan to win you. but what can he do, he admits he had grown obsessed with you before he even knew it himself. "uh just, well it all worked out anyway, i didn't really have to do any of that," "just so you know, i liked you well enough as spiderman and jake. i somewhat did have some idea that you were spiderman,"
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who sometimes arrives at 'dates' hours later because "hey, sorry sunflower im running just a little late, there's a bit of traffic," speaking into the phone as he hangs on a bus mid-fight. which he actually got into while looking for wild flowers for you near the river and the villain spotted him clad in his red & blue attire after he escaped the last time owing to some defects in his suit,"jake are those sirens?" "no?" "where are you?" "five blocks away, four, three actually just gimme me two minutes i'll be there!"
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who does unexpected things to save you because you always jump in when you see him being pushed into a corner. his web sticking to the bottom of your top as he pulls you to him, hands going around your waist,"i'm gonna throw you out the window now," "wha-" before he's swinging you out. chill he'll shoot the web to help you down.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE as much as he loves you, is tired of you insisting to tag along because baby you're in too much danger in the main area "i'm coming with you!" "no you're not!" "jake!" though he loves how you want to be there for him.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who once ends up fighting a monster in the corridors of the uni and later has to hide from the others but can't seem to find the place for it when you come to the rescue and drag him into a janitor's closet in the corner. "you just kissed me," "i know" "jake we're literally hiding to save your ass," "i just couldn't help it. sorry." having your own little seven minutes in heaven in there.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who drops into your balcony at night with the excuse that's his web liquid finished or whatever that is and that he can't take the bus or the cab or walk home. ending up in your bed cuddled together after a messy makeout session. or sometimes knocking against your window all wound up, feeling slightly guilty when you wince and worry while cleaning the cuts and bruises,"are you okay? does it hurt a lot?" "m used to it," "please be careful, i hate it when you get like this," but boy his mind's somewhere else again, leaning in to kiss you, lips falling to your jaw and trailing down to the crook of your neck when you dodge it on the lips. "jake, you're injured!" "i'm sorry, sunflower. just gimme a kiss it gives me strength," "you better rip apart that lizard next time i can't see you like this," "yes love, i promise, now-" his lips capturing yours in a hard suck.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who does the iconic peter gwen kiss on the rooftop the night he has dinner with your parents after they catch you two in your room. "do you think your dad likes me?" "not too sure about that, but he'll have to deal with it, i'm not leaving you,"
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who randomly picks you up from the streets after pinging you a quick text and swings you to these special spots no one can get, high up in the air to show you the little arrangements he makes with his webs. "jake! what was that!" "didn't you get my message?" "i did but i didn't know you'd just grab me like that!" "did you like it though?" ... "yes i did," big smooch
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who even after all this is shit ton scared that'll you'll drop him if he asks you to be official. also afraid of the fact that being with him would put you in constant danger. isolating himself away from you to think it through and somewhere in him mind weighing it out that he's better out of your life than in it. it's all fun and games when it's the romance but what when you're used as his weakness?
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who has a deadly fight with the green goblin, you getting dragged into it and being attacked against before he uses all of his last strengths to defeat the villain and save you a second over death.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who realizes that at this point being without him would cost him the life of both you and him. he's too in love with you and you're too in love with him to stay apart. you're the safest by his side where he can see you and save you.
SPIDERMAN!JAKE who after the said deadly fight, the worst in his superhero career, at the verge of passing out holds onto you, hands cupping your cheeks and foreheads leaning against each other, eyes closed and deep breaths after a long kiss,"can i be your boyfriend?" SPIDERMAN!JAKE who asks to be the one for you.
TAGLIST ( open. ) @s00buwu
#enhypen imagines#enhypen headcanons#enhypen reactions#enhypen fluff#enhypen jake imagines#enhypen heeseung imagines#enhypen jay imagines#enhypen sunghoon imagines#enhypen drabbles#enhypen oneshots#enhypen smut#enhypen jake#enhypen jake x reader#enhypen jake x you#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen x you#enhypen scenarios#enhypen suggestive
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About The Other Night...
Pairing: dilf!Andy Barber x babysitter!Reader
Summary: Seeing Andy for the first time since he fucked you in his car on the way to a Halloween party. (Part one)
Warnings: Age gap, Andy’s imaginary younger kid I made up to make the plot work, smut – oral (f receiving), biting, protected sex (they remembered condoms exist thank god), me continuing to convince everyone Andy has tattoos, 18+
Word count: ~2,900
He’s all you’ve been able to think about.
It’s been weeks of flashbacks to that night in his car. His hands on your body, whispers of praise in your ear, the marks you left on his skin.
You left the party early that night, unable to get him out of your head. Your clothes faintly smelled like him as you laid in bed once you got home, staring at the ceiling. And you came again, thinking back to just a few hours prior, chasing that same, euphoric feeling.
It wasn’t nearly as good of an orgasm as he gave you though and you let out a frustrated sigh, clenching your eyes shut to force yourself asleep, hoping you could just sleep your feelings away.
You refrained from texting or calling him since then. You wanted nothing more than to make sense of what happened… Maybe apologize for coming onto him. But would you mean it?
It doesn’t matter.
You knew it shouldn’t happen again.
But what he said… “I usually take my time with people I like,” and then “Another time?” when you wouldn’t let him do that. It kept running through your mind, making you wonder if he was thinking of you too.
To your surprise, he texted you first. No mention of your rendezvous, just straight to the point, asking if you could babysit his daughter again so he could take care of some work business while Jacob is at a friend’s house.
You almost replied instantly, but forced yourself to wait, not wanting it to be obvious you’d been hoping to hear from him again, even if it was just to ask a favor. That means he’s not upset with you.
As you sit in your car in his driveway, your mind races with what you’re going to say to him or what he’s going to say to you. Your eyes fixate on the time and you wait until the last possible minute to put your brave face on and walk into their house.
Lucky for you, he’s in a rush. You walk in to him giving his daughter a hug and kiss goodbye. And with a short–but genuine–Thank you, Y/N, he’s out the door.
On second thought, you don’t know if that’s really lucky for you.
You let out a sigh as you watch him and hear the door shut behind him. Great. You get to spend the next couple hours continuing to battle your nerves.
Maybe you do wish you would have just gotten addressing the elephant in the room over with.
When he gets home a few hours later, his daughter is sound asleep in her room. You’re an expert at wearing her out and getting her to sleep at a reasonable time, probably why the Barbers have kept you around.
You’re in his kitchen when you hear his footsteps come into the house. Instant sweaty palms make putting the dishes from dinner away harder. You almost drop them completely when you hear his voice behind you.
“Hey…”
Letting out a faint breath, you brace yourself and turn to look at him. “Hi.”
You wish you could say the smile on your face is a fake, forced one, but it’s not. Not when he looks like that. Like he had a long day and needs someone to tell him to relax. Maybe help him relax.
You inwardly curse yourself. This is pathetic, there’s no way he’s still thinking about you, so you need to be over it.
The awkward silence that sets in is undeniable. A silence that neither of you quite know how to sever.
“About the other night…”
What the hell, apparently you’re giving it a shot first.
He interrupts you before you can go any further. “What about it?”
He smirks and the look on your face mirrors his, relieved to hear his joking tone.
“I…” You try to go on anyway, but the words you’ve been rehearsing in your head have fled. You’re instantly flustered, hiding your face in your hands.
He takes the last few steps it takes to be standing in front of you and places his hands on your shoulders.
“Everything is fine,” he promises, rubbing his hands along your arms, encouraging you to drop them. “Look at me.”
You do and your smile falters. “Seriously… I shouldn’t have come onto you like that.”
Shaking your head, you open your mouth again to apologize, but he stops you.
He leans closer, causing you to still, nearly holding your breath.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he whispers.
Fuck, that's what you were hoping for.
His warm breath against your ear brings back the memories of how close you were in the front seat of his car. You have to swallow back a whimper.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either,” you admit.
He takes that, along with the fact that you haven’t tried to move away from where he has you backed up against the counter, as an OK to be the one to make the first move this time.
His lips ghost dangerously close to your neck, pressing a soft kiss below your ear. You can’t stop a whimper from escaping this time.
“Andy,” you sigh, tilting your head for him.
You’re a little apprehensive yet, not because you don’t want this again, but because you can’t help but hear that voice in the back of your head saying you shouldn’t.
He can feel your nerves as if they’re radiating from you. His kisses trail down your neck while his hands leave the counter behind you, resting on your hips.
“I won’t bite,” he teases, trying to put you at ease. But you feel his smile against your skin. “Actually… I remember you’re into that.”
That gets you to giggle. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him tighter against you so you can hide your face against his chest.
He lets up momentarily, laughter fading so he can be serious. “I’ll stop if you want me to…”
“Don’t.”
The word comes out quick, desperation clear in your voice.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
Him guiding you toward his couch and kneeling between your parted legs is all a blur.
He looks at you for approval as his hands slide up your thighs, fingers hooking in the waistbands of your sweats and panties.
“My turn, yeah?” He winks.
You bite your lip, your answer coming in the form of silently ridding yourself of your clothes for him.
“Good girl.” His hands return to your hips to help position you, pulling you closer, while his broad shoulders spread your legs further. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”
Your head falls back against the cushions. This is what your last couple weeks worth of dreams were made of.
“Please–”
Your plea is cut off by your own gasp as he begins placing tender kisses along your inner thigh, teasingly nipping your sensitive skin, enough to leave marks similar to the ones you left on him.
You can’t help but squirm, aching for him already. Your hands rest on his head, fingers threading through his hair, tugging ever so gently. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you’re being impatient.
“I told you, I take my time with people I like.” His words are mumbled between kisses, getting closer to where you want him with each one.
“God, I was kind of hoping you weren’t serious about that.” Your breathless laugh is followed by a moan when his lips reach your clit.
“I was very serious, but lucky for you…” His voice trails off as his tongue teases along your slit before focusing back on your clit. “You're very hard to resist right now.”
“Oh, fuck,” you sigh.
Your hands pull his face closer and he doesn’t fight it, devouring your pussy like he can’t get enough.
He has you in a haze, failing to notice your moans are getting louder with each lap of his tongue.
You take in a deep breath when he suddenly pulls away, pressing soothing kisses to your thighs again.
“You sound so pretty,” he teases. “But you gotta stay quiet for me.”
“Sorry,” you giggle. “It just feels so good.”
“I know, and I want to keep making you feel good, but you gotta be quiet, angel.”
Angel. You smile, but immediately try to suppress it. You definitely don’t mind that nickname sticking, but you can’t believe he has you grinning like an idiot while he’s between your thighs.
Nodding quickly, you promise to keep it down. You just need him to keep going, pulling at his hair again to give him a clue.
He catches on right away, chuckling as he gives in to you. Your eyes roll back as he hums contentedly against your sensitive cunt.
“Cum for me, baby,” he murmurs without pulling away, noting how your body reacts to the vibrations from his voice. “Come on.”
Your hand flies up to cover your mouth, quieting the moans you can't hold in as you let go for him. You lose yourself in the sensation of the high he gives you, body trembling as he works you through it, completely unfazed by your thighs pressing against the sides of his head as the pleasure becomes too much.
“Andy,” you gasp when you can trust yourself to control the volume of your voice again. Your fingers unravel from his hair and he takes that as his sign to ease up. He can't get enough of you though, causing your body to jerk with a few lingering kisses to your swollen folds. “Holy hell.”
His hands rub your sides and along your thighs as you calm down. Glancing back down at him, you can't help but let out a laugh. He furrows his brow, concerned he did something wrong, but you grab his hands reassuringly.
“Sorry,” you shake your head. “I've just never came from that before. That was… Crazy.”
Barking out a laugh laced with disbelief, he sits back and pulls you by the hands to sit up too. “What kind of useless guys have you been with?”
“I don't know,” you chuckle, biting your lip nervously. “But there's only one guy I wanna be with right now.”
He has an arm around your waist as you walk into his bedroom. You joked–but not really–that you didn't know if you could walk after how he made your legs shake.
He sits you on the edge of the bed while he quickly steps back toward the door, locking it out of habit.
“I won't make you be so quiet in here,” he whispers, leaning over you, gently pushing you back to lay down.
“Good,” you giggle, pulling him down with you for a kiss.
You both make quick of discarding the rest of your clothes. Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt as you rush to undo them. He takes over when he feels your frustrated groan against his lips.
“Easy, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he quips, poking fun at your desperate movements.
A wave of embarrassment flushes over you, heat creeping up your chest and across your face. It’s quickly forgotten as he sits up to slip his shirt off though. Your eyes drift down his body, jaw dropping slightly as you take in his toned features that you didn’t get to see last time.
“Eyes up here, pretty girl.” He brings your attention back by cupping your face as he hovers over you again, getting you to look back in his eyes. There’s a teasing glint in them as his thumb strokes your cheek. “What’s that look for?”
Your hands press against his chest, moving up to his shoulders where your fingers trace along lines of black ink. “You have tattoos…”
He drops his head, stifling the laugh he lets out with a kiss to your shoulder.
“Don’t tell me you’ve taken me for a prude of an old man all this time.”
“I…” Shit, you kinda did.
You dodge his question by moving your hands to his face to pull him down, closing the small gap that’s left between you with a kiss.
“We’re coming back to that later,” he jokes against your lips.
Your guilty giggle quickly turns into a small whine as you roll your hips, needy for the feeling of his cock again.
You let your hand fall from the back of his neck, moving between your bodies. He groans feeling your fingers wrap around his hard length.
“Fuck, sweetheart.”
Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths of anticipation, but you have one last moment of clarity before fully giving into him.
“Wait,” you whisper.
He stops instantly, pushing himself up just enough to look at you. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing.” You shake your head, catching your breath. “Do you have condoms?”
“Uh, yeah, I…” He points toward a nightstand, but he doesn’t finish his sentence, a flash of panic on his face. “Are you not on–”
“I am,” you quickly assure him. Nothing happened, but that doesn’t mean you should do it again. “That was just kind of stupid of us last time.”
“Right.” You’re relieved when he laughs with you. “One second.”
Pleasure-filled moans from both of you fill the room as his cock finally sinks into you. Attempting to get him to move, you wrap your legs around him.
“I need a second, angel,” he chuckles, leaning to kiss you while you both get used to the feeling of each other again. “You’re–” He lets out a groan. “You feel so good.”
Your kisses travel to his cheek and along his jaw. “Please,” you beg quietly, grazing your teeth against the delicate skin beneath his ear.
Even though you’re imploring him, the first thrust takes you by surprise, a startled gasp falling from your lips as your head falls back against the bed. “Oh my God.”
“Attagirl,” he breathes out slowly, teasing you with equally slow drags of his cock in and out of you. “You can take it.”
“Uh-huh,” you nod weakly, mouth dropping open in a strangled moan as he sets a steady pace with his hips.
His muscles flex underneath your fingertips, your hands grasping onto his upperarms as he fucks you harder.
“That's right, hold on. I've got ya.”
Those reassuring words drive you wild. He slides a hand down your side to grip the back of your thigh, pushing it off his waist to spread your legs further, allowing him to fuck you deeper.
Your back arches, pushing your hips closer to his to feel him against your clit. The contact causes your legs to quiver, and you dig your nails into his arms.
“Damn.” You try to laugh, but it almost sounds like a sob. He's got you on the edge already. This is only your second time with him, how does he know your body so well? “How are you doing that?”
“Doing what, sweetheart?” He smirks knowingly, pressing fervent kisses to your neck.
You let out a shaky breath. “You're so good.”
“We've established you've been with useless guys,” he chuckles.
You'd laugh too, but you can't focus on anything that's not the pleasure threatening to erupt deep inside you.
“Please don't stop.”
He doesn't halt you when you begin to move in tune with him, relentlessly rolling your hips, desperate for another orgasm. You can't bear the thought of going home and having to take care of it yourself again. You need to be spent tonight.
“Let go.” His voice is low, close to your ear as he litters your jaw and shoulder with teasing bite marks. “Cum for me, Y/N.”
“I–” Your breaths quicken as he thrusts into you and pulls almost all the way out before doing it again. And again. And– “Yes, right there!”
He groans feeling your pussy flutter around his dick, chasing after his own release as he prolongs yours. “Good fuckin’ girl.”
Your fingers soothe over the scratches you're sure you left on his arms and back while he lays with you. After he pulled out, he shifted like he wanted to lay beside you, but you held onto him so he couldn't, liking the weight of him on top of you.
As if he can sense what you're thinking about the marks, he speaks up softly after a few shuddering breaths. “It’s okay.”
“Okay,” you chuckle.
To your dismay, he rolls on to his side once his breathing has steadied so he can prop himself up on an elbow. He rests a hand on your cheek, quieting your protest. “Do you need anything?” He reaches over you for a blanket to cover you with before holding your face again.
“Just sleep,” you sigh dramatically. The exhaustion is definitely hitting you though, it's not a total exaggeration. “Now I really don't think I can walk, by the way.”
He laughs at you. “Don't worry, I'm not kickin' you out.”
Good because you're two seconds away from falling asleep.
“But the kids…” You slur out the few words.
“If they see you, I'll tell them I got home late, so you slept over.”
“Are you sure–”
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead, teasing you. “You worry so much. Leave that to me.”
“Sorry,” you smile, offering him a wink that turns into both of your eyes falling shut for good. “Goodnight, Mr. Barber.”
Tag list: @patzammit @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @mrspeacem1nusone @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby
#andy barber#andy barber x reader#andy barber fanfiction#chris evans x reader#chris evans fanfiction#andy barber smut#chris evans smut#andy barber imagine
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fly on the wall * fem!driver
she crashes in her third race of her f1 career, but she's more concerned about its repercussions than the concussion
pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!reader
warnings: crashing the car
notes: ooooh my god i had to rewrite this 5 times because it wasn't up to my liking initially, and then tumblr was having some issues saving my shit so i lost it?? it's very sad fr
(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)
"are you alright?" sebastian's voice comes onto the radio.
his eyes are trained on the big screen, cameras focused on the car parked into the wall out of a turn. he couldn't get an answer out of his driver so he had to resort to the third party.
if his assumptions are correct, she would have hit her head on her seat hard at impact. but things like that can lead to so many bigger things that he might not even be prepared for.
her vision slowly returns, blacking out for a mere second as the car went into the barriers of the baku track.
she had issues with her brakes for a few laps. sebastian had suggested retiring the car if she didn't feel safe, but she pressed on. the issue didn't seem so serious and it seemed manageable.
at first.
it's a driver error - missing the early braking point to accommodate her already tweaking brakes. she missed it by a millisecond, clipped the wall and got sent straight into the wall.
she sighs, pressing the button on her steering wheel. "i'm okay," she answers shakily, tears now filling her eyes.
"okay, that's the important part. don't think about anything else. i'll see you in the medical centre." sebastian is quick to shut her thoughts down, clearly prioritising her wellbeing and not the car.
"i'm sorry," she sighs, voice shaking and lips quivering. “i’m so sorry, seb.”
this is only her third race in f1, how could she have already crashed out? on a race where she was so close to that podium. it would have been such a monumental moment — a woman on the podium.
with 20 laps left in the race and her in 5th place, it wasn’t all that far out of reach at the time. yet, here she is causing a yellow flag as she starts to notice the smoke surrounding her.
"like i said. don't think about anything else."
she sighs to herself as a marshal appears above her halo, greeting her with a soft smile. she nods, letting herself get helped out of her car.
but only one thought eats away at her: she crashed on her third race. what's everyone going to say about her now?
“let me talk,” sebastian sighs, hands up in the air as he tries to calm the girl sitting on the examination bed. he’s barely able to get a word in.
she’s slouched against the wall, purple balaclava in her hands as she traces the thread that holds it together at the hem. the minute he walked in, she looked up immediately with tears in her eyes and a string of apologies.
it hasn’t stopped since he poked his head through the door, cutting him off before he could even ask if she’s okay.
“do you not see the problem?” she shrieks, eyebrows furrowing at sebastian. “i just crashed out! imagine what the media has to say about my performance today? they’re just going to use this as a reason to justify that i shouldn’t be on the track!”
sebastian drops his hands to his side, deciding that he’d just let her get it all off her chest. it might make her feel better.
though, it doesn’t make him feel good that she’s continually talking down on herself. he vouched for her for weeks for a reason, and it’s because he believes in her. more than she does in herself, it seems.
“i didn’t work my ass off my whole life just to be undermined because i’m a woman!” she tosses the balaclava aside, now picking at the loose skin by her fingernails. “i didn’t get this far for everyone to count me out because of one crash! can you fucking believe that shit? it’s a fucking rookie mistake, seb! i’ve been racing for years!”
she drops her hands by her side and groans again, rolling her eyes. “i’ve earned my rightful spot to be where i am! they are not going to care about that!”
sebastian shrugs slightly, overlooked by the infuriated woman across him. he can barely get a breath in before she continues, shutting his mouth immediately as she continues her rampage.
“imagine the headlines tomorrow! a driver is as good as their last race — i know that! don’t try to sugarcoat it. you know i’m right!” she rambles on, eyes darting all over the room. she’s pushed herself off the wall slightly, clearly flustered over the course of events.
she avoids sebastian’s eyes, the fear of fully breaking down in front of him prominent. crying over a crash seemed like such a silly thing to do, but there’s no denying how demanding the sport truly is.
in her short three races in the season and people’s neverending criticism of her abilities, it makes her lie awake at night rethinking her position on the grid.
following her crash, sebastian hadn’t expected for her to ramble on for this long. he initially thought that the crash would have sent her into a shocking silence, so while her anger is warranted, it was definitely not on his list of things to be ready for.
“imagine what they have to say about me!” she throws her hands in the air, scratching her head gently. “imagine what they’ll say about you! it’s not going to be good, trust me! i’m a woman in a fucking racing car in a male-dominated sport!”
“hey!” sebastian’s voice bounces in the room, making her lift her head with her eyes narrowed into a glare.
the sudden movement reminds her of her restrictions, hands coming up to nurse the back of her neck. she feels a sharp pain shoot through her head all the way down to her shoulders. “what?” she hisses, quickly looking down to hide the pain.
“you literally just crashed head-first into a wall at 250 kilometres per hour! you’re lucky all you got was a concussion and whiplash! it could’ve been worse!”
“if i was lucky, i’d have been able to recover and get on the podium as we discussed! i was already 5th!”
“and you didn’t! that’s okay! you learn from things like these!”
“no, it’s not! i’m already hated as it is!”
“it’s part of the sport! fernando alonso has crashed, lewis has, and so have max and charles! every other big name in formula 1 has had their fair share! you’ll be okay!”
she finally meets sebastian’s eyes, slouching even more as she audibly sighs. he watches her body deflate, leaning back dejectedly. “it’s still different.”
she’s still in her fireproofs. her race suit had to be taken off during her short time with the doctor, hanging on the back of the plastic chair in the small medical room. her helmet sits next to her, underneath the balaclava she’d thrown on top of it.
her hair is in a loose ponytail with stray hairs poking out and resting on her face. the adrenaline has yet to leave her body, chest heaving as if it’d just been over and beads of sweat still scattered all over her.
“i know it’s different. but everyone else who says whatever isn’t the person behind the wheel, you have to remember that,” he says in a soothing tone, finally coming up to stand next to her. he sighs, putting a hand on top of her head. “and i know it sucks.”
she shakes her head. “no, you don’t. we’re different; our problems are different.”
“the way they used to hate me, and things they say about you are different, yes,” sebastian nods in a low voice, his thumb now tracing circles on her head. “but you still can prove them wrong. you just started driving in formula 1 — you’ll have way more chances to shut them all up.”
“i could’ve already. if i just controlled the car a little better.”
“it’s okay.” he slides himself onto the examination bed, sitting next to her. he intertwines his fingers and rests his hands on his thigh. “everybody crashes at one point in their career.
“let the media say what they want, but not all that criticise you have been in a race before. nobody on that grid thinks you’re lesser than you are just because of what happened today.”
“you don’t know that.”
sebastian just shakes his head, refusing to elaborate any further. he leans back into the wall as well. “oscar is on the way with some snacks for you.”
crashing out during a race is never easy. years before he decided to retire, tapping and crashing out of a race has always been demoralising. it always feels like the first time when he does.
“i don’t need snacks. i need to go back to 4 hours ago when i was still on track for a podium finish in the first half of my rookie season.”
“with your talent, i can assure you that this will not be your only opportunity in formula 1. i will make sure of it, of course. wherever i go, you go.”
the door creaks open, cutting her off before she can throw an answer back as sebastian. “i’ve got your favourite snacks. i also stole a couple of twix bars from your backpack, i hope you don’t mind.”
“well, why’d you take them and still tell me about it knowing i wouldn’t even have given it to you in the first place?” she reaches for the nearest object next to her, yanking it towards oscar by the door.
“because it was calling my name,” he shrugs, pushing the door fully open to reveal who he’s strung along to the medical centre.
“i took a packet of haribo,” logan shrugs as he steps in. he flinches when she clenches her fist, scrambling to pull something out of his paper bag. “but i got you a can of sprite to make up for it! don’t be mad!”
her gaze softens when she notices lewis hamilton standing behind her friends, a paper bag hanging on his fingers as he grins at her.
“how are you, sweetie?” his voice is empathetic and low, giving her a look that she’d seen from everyone she’s passed on her way here.
she sees lewis and sebastian exchange glances, almost making her roll her eyes again.
she doesn’t talk to lewis that often, but he has addressed her before when she would trail behind sebastian on the track. she would often greet him softly as she hid behind her mentor, or simply excuse herself when she sees either oscar or logan passing by.
he’s a role model and the last thing she ever wanted to do was be too overbearing. to see him come to her aid is only a dream come true.
“i hope you don’t beat yourself up because of that. you drove a brilliant race today,” he smiles. “everybody crashes out. don’t even care what others have to say about you. you did well.”
lewis understands being cast out as a minority. he will never understand the struggles and pressure put on her, but he can at least relate to a certain extent. “don’t even sweat it. you’re now one of the world’s greatest in a fast race car. you’d smoke anybody who would dare challenge you.”
oscar tilts his head. “why would someone random just challenge her out on the street?”
“oscar, shut up,” logan shoves the australian slightly, landing a warning smack on his shoulder after. “let her have her moment.”
lewis laughs but does wave oscar off as he returns his attention to her. “what they say will string, but trust me, this is not the end of the world. i know it feels like it.”
she nods to herself. “okay, hand me the snacks so i can eat away all my pain. i deserve it.”
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