#fucked up little fantasy i got off to n imagined my brains all over the place after :3
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Hold a loaded gun to my helplessly masochistic head and tell me I can only say two phrases while you rape me; "i want you to shoot me" for when i need to cum and "i want you to shoot inside me" to encourage you to finish sooner so i can be safe. And if I cum you paint the ground with my brains. Obviously.
#gun play#masochistic#nsft#hornyposting#dirty talk#sex rules and things#scene ideas#r@pe kink#r@pe play#hard kink#snvff#death games#sadomasochistic#i can do this to you also#fucked up little fantasy i got off to n imagined my brains all over the place after :3#dark fantasies#rough cnc#denial kink#edging kink#edging and denial#making someone use the phrase 'i want' in the positive while you r@pe them 🥰
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𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.
𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑
Brothers bestfriend! Chris + needy! Nate’s lil sis
prompt: Nate ( ur older brother ) wants to go out for a bit with some of his other friends and he doesn’t trust you enough to stay home by urself without mom and dad since they won’t be there either. So he asks one of his best friend Chris to stay over and watch you, Matt and nick know ur crush on Chris so they pretend they can’t come.
Part 01
contains: masturbation ( no actual sex ), use of y/n ( sorry I have to ) dirty fantasies ( pet names, rough! Chris, dirty talk, degrading, forced head etc just beyond FILTHLY imagination ), use of vibrator on reader, caught by Chris, FORESHADOWING, fantasy will be like this
Nate are you serious I’m not 12! I whine when said he was gonna find a baby sitter for me knowing how much it pisses me off
I’m Nate doe’s little sister I’m 18, we’ve Been close to his bestfriends the sturniolo triplets. So obviously him being my brother naturally I got to know them.
Nick
I clicked with him superrr fast, I love his energy and when I found out he was gay that just made it all the better because I’ve always wanted a gay bestfriend, and we always have sleepovers :)
Matt
Matt’s absolutely adorable I love him he always helps me calm down whenever I’m about to or am having a panic attack, I remember one time during a test I forgot everything and almost had one and he slid me the answers. Love that kid
now there’s a reason I saved Chris for last,
Chris
chris and I know each other just as well if not even more then I do his other two brothers, we haven’t done anything unfortunately. I’ve had a crush on him since middle school.
First I just wanted to kiss him and hold his hand.
Then go to his house and do some more.
Then now, as an 18 year old I wanted him to fuck my Brains out.
I’m around him all the time since we all live in LA and always hanging out, I always see him shirtless and fucking hell it turns me on, I always get lucky since nick and matt found of my attraction to his brother they always snap me or text me pictures of him.
What sucks is I cant have him. It would take my life 1000 times over for me to be able to fuck chris sturniolo, and it sucks because my brother nate does not play that shit.
He strictly said "your not allowed to date any of them" obviously referring to matt and Chris.
Which also doesn't help because my wants and desires a hormonal teenage-adult girl only grow more whenever he comes around, chris is always there.
Now today, nate had to run some errands and nick matt and chris used to watch me when I was younger if my parents couldn't
Buttt, nick and matt "could not come due to personal issues" so. Your guess is right, im gonna be alone with chris for hours.
That thought alone made me soak in my p-
“Y/n! are you listening to me kid?” My older brother chuckles leaning against my doorway of my room as im on my bed watching "The Vampire Diaries".
“Huh? oh yeah im listening matt and nick cant come so chris is because im fucking 11.” I roll my eyes hiding my excitement from him watching me.
“Don't think of any weird shit alright? He's just watching you so don't-“
“Ugh is he here yet? You're annoying me already.” I groan shifting in my sheets and taking a sip from my celsius hearin our door open, they have a key.
“Welp thats chris.” Nate says tilting his head for me to get up.
I get up from the sheets wearing some pink sleep shorts and a white t-shirt and he raises an eyebrow.
“Your wearing THAT? around chris?” Nate chuckles and I flip him off.
“Hey! I heard that!.” Chris yells coming up the stairs sounding offended.
He's now at the top of the steps. oh my fuck he looks so good.
Its around 6ish in LA right now and hes wearing a black tank top and grey fresh love sweats, slight stubble and his hair was a bit messy which I always liked and my eyes immediately drifted to his natural bulge in his pants as him and Nate were talking.
“Just make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.” Nate puts his arm around me giving me a hug and Chris chuckles.
“Don’t worry bro she’s safe with me.” He says before dapping him up as Nate leaves the house. yeah safer if you were balls deep inside
Oh god Chris sh-shit so-d-deep inside me
Yeah? You feel me deep inside you baby?
bro she’s like zoning out today. Nate chuckled and I snap out of it
Whatever no I wasn’t! Just go!
Soon after it was just me and Chris so we made our way down to the living room
“Where are ur other two clones?” I chuckle getting situated on the couch before turning on a movie saltburn
“they have “personal issues”.” He said rolling his eyes causing a small laugh to fall from my lips.
“So it’s just you and me little one.” A smirk curving on his lips, just enough for my panties to be soaked.
Shut up Chris I’m 18.I mutter trying to watch the movie in peace and he chuckles
the movie went on and it was now, the bathtub scene where jacob elordi ( Felix ) is jerking off.
I peer over to Chris whose eyes are clearly fixated on the screen as my squeeze my thighs together under the blanket feeling all my hormonal thoughts leaking through my panties.
This had nothing to do with the movie, it’s the thought for Chris doing that to himself that had turned me on most. The tension so thick a knife couldn’t even cut through.
“Uhm I-i gotta go to the bathroom”. I nearly choke and I fix my shorts placing the blanket down where I was sitting.
“Don’t take to long I’ll miss you.” He chuckles and that didn’t help.
I go to my room and close the door squeezing my eyes shut.
I had maybe 5 minutes to relieve myself.
I quickly reach into my drawer grabbing my vibrating dildo and the remote for it.
I pull down my shorts and panties and spread my legs letting the tip of the toy get coated in my wetness and I bite my lip slightly feeling the thickness of it.
I turned it on letting out a soft moan slowly inserting it, wishing this was Chris’s dick instead.
I began thrusting the toy in and out of my pussy letting the squelching sounds of arousal grow letting it drip down curling my toes throwing my head on the pillows allowing my mind to drift
I was in Chris’s/my room my head smushed in the pillows as his cock rammed inside me whilst I was on my stomach. His hips slamming against my ass and his hand wrapped around my lower stomach as I cried out his name
Fuck fuckk so d-deep- I whimper into the pillows as he was bringing me to my 4th orgasm, we had switched numerous positions and my legs were quivering in front of him as he laid a hard snack to my ass chucking behind me.
such a fucking slut letting me fuck you like this, imagine if ur brother found out his little sister was getting her pussy pounded by his bestfriend. He laid another harsh smack to my ass and I jolted forward.
stretched this pussy out so good- he groans rubbing my clit to chase both our orgasms.
ngh- o-oh shit- fuck- I gripped the sheets tightly curses of Chris’s name flew out my mouth feeling my eyes water from the angle of his hips thrusting allowing his thick cock to hit every single spot inside me
come on sweetheart cum for me, you have another one in you yeah? He grunted lowly in my ear kissing me sloppily as a string of Saliva parts from our lips each time we kiss moaning into each others mouths.
“Oh fuck Chris I-“ I curl my toes and yell loudly as I’m about to release on the toy before I look up and see Chris. Was. Watching me.
“Were you playing with yourself?” Chris leans on the doorway of my room his eyes darting to between ny legs as I was thrusting the toy in and out of me and I quickly covered up my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“Uhm…maybe. Sorry I-I’ll be down in a second-“
Maybe I can help. Chris says closing the door to my room approaching my bed
@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris
@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @mattsnymphette @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @blondiesjailer @kqyslyho3 @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @stqrnstars @dlyansworld @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @lacysturniolo @sturniol0s @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#smut#nicolas sturniolo#hearts4chriss#babyddolly is my fucking girl#🩷 nate doe’s little sister series!
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A Benevolent Hand
Khonshu x Fem!Moon Knight!Reader
TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, masturbation (Fem), fingering, dirty talking, degradation(?), Khonshu wants to actually fuck you but won't admit it because he's a prideful shithead
MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
A/N: did I stay up until ten last 4am to spit this shit out? Enjoy whatever horny poetry my sleep deprived brain supplies you. Be free, my horny little doves *yeets y'all into a field*
Also idk why but this gif does things to me
🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑
It was a dull, dead night. There were no evildoers to stop, no killers to send to the sands of the Duat.
Even Badr told you to go home and rest, you deserved it after your diligent work and devotion to your god.
But, of course... "settling in" for the night wasn't something you know how to do anymore.
You've been Moon Knight for so long you weren't even sure what normal people did during quiet nights at home, anymore.
You ate, showered, exercised in the cramped space of your seedy apartment, before sitting on the couch to idly flip through channels, clicking your tongue and reminding yourself to sign up for some streaming services or pirate some stuff at the local library.
You were so bored you settled on an old corny horror film from the 80s, R-Rated and strangely enough, uncensored. But then again, adult channels were still a thing apparently, so you settled in for some cheap blood and guts, stupid busty camp counselors and a masked killer.
But of course, the sex scenes were there, as well. It didn't show anything like porn would, but the actors did a good job of "having" sex beneath the covers, their bodies flushed and sweaty as they went at it like rabbits, panting and saying things to each other in shared breaths.
They were gonna die, that's how these things went. You have sex in a horror movie, you die. The psychos from Scream got that part right about the ole cliché.
But... The way they acted with each other, playing out the part of a couple very much in love and very horny had you... bothered.
You craved that kind of intimacy. Sure, you can go out and find someone to hook up with, have a forgettable one night stand with some idiot at a bar... but it didn't have the physical closeness that was acted out on the cheap flat screen in front of you.
Being a Fist of Khonshu was often lonely life. You couldn't engage in the seeming frivolity of a relationship that was seen every day you walked down the street. No bed warmed by another body, no good morning kisses, no... love?
You shoved those melancholy feelings aside for now, deciding to focus on the throbbing heat blossoming between your legs.
You bit your lip and slid your hand down your front, slipping it beneath the waistband of your pajamas and beneath your underwear, touching the slick wetness that began to coat and soak through the fabric covering you as the movie droned on.
Your fingers slowly started circling your clit as you breathed out a hot puff of air, eyes closing momentarily as you imagined it.
You, with a man who was head over heels with you, tangled up in the sheets.
Sweaty, groping hands pawing at slick skin, tongues dancing as you kissed like you were all the two of you needed to breathe--
Your fingers began to increase their movements, gathering your sweet juices on your fingers to lubricate your clit as you circled with more need.
You dropped your head onto the back of your couch with a pathetic groan, eyes closing as you let the mental image take a better shape, using the sounds from the TV to help mold the scene for you and your faceless, imaginary lover.
You grunted and kicked off your bottoms and underwear, discarding them on the floor as you spread your legs, one foot resting on the cushion to allow better access as your other hand groped at your breast over the fabric of your threadbare tank top.
"Fuck." You cursed aloud to yourself, falling back into your fantasy as your fingers played with your wet, puffed folds.
Your lover would slowly slink down your body, his lips and tongue pressing on your skin until his mouth reached your hip bones.
He would kiss your clit before licking up your slit, his tongue teasing your entrance, tracing it before he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves at the top.
You let out a heady moan, your toes curling as you held back the urge to plunge your fingers inside of you; for now settling on focusing your attention on your twitching clit.
You roll your hips in time with your hand, sliding your hand beneath your top to squeeze your breasts and roll your nipple between your fingertips.
Your lover would lick, kiss, nip, and tease you. He would rut his nose against your clit as his tongue--
Your mental fantasy bubble popped when you felt a very large, very warm, and very real hand slide down your torso, leaving a blazing trail beneath your skin in its wake.
"I sometimes forget how often mortals have these urges." The deep, raspy voice that the hand belonged to sighed out, his tone dripping with... disappointment? Boredom?
You snatch your hand away from your core and instinctively try to close your legs, to conceal your shame as the ancient being crowded around you, the dry smell of sand and spices assaulting your nose as his heat threatened to overwhelm you as he leaned over the back of the couch.
"K-Khonshu--!" You sputter, almost gawking as his bare hand slides to replace yours, his large, thick fingers spreading your lips and gathering your wetness on his digits.
"A rather needy thing, aren't you?" His voice murmured, almost a humored huff coming from him as his thumb circled your clit, sending bolts of pleasure jolt up your spine.
You bite your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to come out; shame blending in an intoxicating cocktail as your very ethereal and otherworldly benefactor began to pick up where you left off.
"You were being so loud a moment ago." He chastised, his fingers moving very quickly over your clit, his mind focused on how the little nub was swollen and twitched beneath his grasp.
"Don't bother concealing it from me, now, you needy little thing. You're like a cat in heat, right now." You could feel his voice rumble through your, your bones trembling and the deep baritone vibrating your clit as your hand gripped weakly at his forearm.
Your stubborn pride told you not to, not to give in, that this was probably one of the most shameful things a god could catch their follower doing, but...
Most gods wouldn't participate, now would they? Surely, they would chastise you, or walk away and leave you alone to tend to yourself.
When you didn't comply, he grunted and pulled his hand away, your dripping cunt lamenting the loss of his warm touch; hips chasing him for more.
The characters in the movie long moved past the intense love-making between the protagonists. One of them screamed as they found the dead body of one of their friends.
"Disobedient little runt. I will not give you what you want so easily, especially not if you defy me."
The threat was cold, and... oh, fuck it.
"I--I'm sorry." You whimpered, your head dropping back once more, this time hitting the stiff bicep of his other arm he used to brace himself on the couch.
"Good girl." He purred, his hand once more resuming his cruel, blissful torture.
You hiccuped and moaned, rolling your hips once more, this time into the touch of another as heat bloomed low in your belly; molten lava creeping through your veins like thick molasses.
Your chest heaved as his other arm curled around you, his hand taking the soft weight of your breast into his palm, kneading the mound of flesh and pulling your nipple in perfect synchronicity with his other.
"Oh, ffuuuh--" You panted, your body caged from behind as the ancient deity whose age was beyond counting helped you rub one out on your dingey, shitty couch in the dead of night.
You felt your womb throb, wanting desperately to have something inside--
"Poor thing." Khonshu tsk'd. "Could you not find someone--something--to satisfy you? Here you are, rutting against my hand like it is all you know how to do. Pathetic."
You moaned louder this time, arching your back at the words he spat at you. You weren't one for this kind of dirty talk... but having it come from him had your head spinning like you had just gotten off of the tilt-a-whirl on Coney Island--but in a sinfully delicious way.
"Perhaps I should have left you alone. You seemed quite consumed by your little fantasy." He mused, his thumb pressing so hard against your clit that it had you seeing stars behind your eyelids.
"What were you imagining, little dove?" He rasped lowly, the dry, smooth side of his beak sweeping against you, feeling almost cool to your blazing cheek as you leaned into it.
"A nobody? Playing house with you? Laying you down in bed and devouring you like a banquet, perhaps?"
Oh, little did he know how close to the truth he actually was.
Or maybe he did know, and was using it to merely drive you over that mind-numbing precipice you wanted so desperately to fling yourself off of?
You could never tell with him, not when he was playing his mind games.
"I... Uh--ah--" You whine.
Khonshu's fingers pull up enough to slap your clit, the sudden feeling making your body jerk against him as the sound of your went cunt was heard even over the volume of your forgotten movie.
"I am reciting rhetoric. I will talk, and you will listen." He growls, his hand sliding down, his palm grinding against your clit as his fingers toy with your fluttering entrance.
Oh, you were so close, so fucking close. If he would just--
"I don't understand how mortals can function when urges like these are so strong." He sighed boredly, as if he wasn't currently fucking you with his hand, teasing your needy hole but not giving what you were truly craving...
"You are destined for more than a pathetic little house with a yard and a garden. You were meant to carry out my will."
That irked you, deep down. Yes, you knew attaining that very thing was highly unlikely for you, but he didn't have to insult you for fantasizing about being normal.
"F-fuck you." You managed to spit out, eyes crossing as they rolled back into your skull, your voice lacking the conviction and venom you wanted it to.
"You seem to be doing just that, my dear." He tipped his head to the side in a jerking motion.
He gave you not a moment to ponder his words as he hooked a thick finger inside of you, curving upwards and pressing hard against that textured spot inside your spongy walls, making you cry out and lift your hips off of the couch
"...In a manner of speaking." He sighed, pumping his finger in and out, paying extra attention to that oh so delicious spot within you, mapping out your very insides with methodical precision, quickly finding the method to get the best reactions out of you as your walls clenched down around him.
"Look at you, so desperate that you are letting me do this to you." Khonshu mocked softly, a chuckle coming from him as his fingers plucked your nipple and his palm ground hard onto your clit.
"Do you like this? Your god giving you such special attention?"
You keened, panting hard as your orgasm began to swell, each pulsing wave battering down the shores of pride and resolve you had struggled to build over the years of serving out the will of this... god.
"Ah... You are close, are you not?" He teased you, "Let's see..."
He managed to slip another finger inside of you, a groan actually rumbling out of him. You never thought you'd heard a sound like that from him.
But then again, you never expected him to finger-fuck you in your own couch before, either.
"You're tight, little bird." He growled, his voice strained as he scissored his fingers in and out of you, shoving you forcefully to the edge of the shores of your oblivion.
"When was the last time you bedded anyone other than your own hand? Months? Years?" He huffed, pumping them in and out of you rapidly, now.
You were so close you could feel the waters of sybaritism that you could taste the very petals of a lotus on the tip of your tongue.
"No wonder you have been so testy as of late."
Almost.
So close.
Just a bit more!
He leaned over, holding you to him almost like a child clutching a beloved toy; only it was far from something so innocent as you ride his hand like your life depended on it.
Your mouth open, your tongue just barely peaking over your bottom lip as you finally dove into the warm waters, silently waiting for the petals of a lotus to fall onto the wet, writhing muscle; drowning in each drop as your orgasm dragged you out to tide, drowning you as your god dabbled with your most intimate parts in such hedonistic fashion.
You were so lost in your post-coital haze that you didn't even register his hand leaving you until his body retracted; leaving you bereft of his warmth.
You turned your head in time, your eyes bleary, blood-shot and faraway as you watched him turn, toying with the sticky wetness coating his skin.
"Don't fall into this trap again, little dove." The god of the moon tells you over his shoulder, before disappearing in a cloud of mist.
But most certainly not before you had taken notice of the prominent bulge beneath his bandages and robes...
#moon knight#khonshu#khonshu x reader#khonshu x you#khonshu moon knight#moon knight khonshu#khonshu smut
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Raw: Jason Todd x reader
Warnings: SMUT MDNI!!! (seriously minors, read responsibly so we can all leave in peace here, there are enough wars and fights in the world), cursing.
massive thanks to @fcthots for letting me use the idea (Jason making love to you without protection for the first time, which I twisted a bit and which you can find here)
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Once he started he was like a machine.
There was nothing and no one that could possibly stop him from almost drilling into her.
At least that was what happening till one night …
“Baby….”
“Shit! Jason!” Y/N came out of the shower only to came across the red metal mask. Obviously her first reaction was a single scream as she grabbed her chest, trying to level the rapid spike in the heartbeat. She most definitely did not expect Jason to swing by her apartment in the middle of the night with an attempt to give her a heart attack. However she could not deny that his deep, hoarse voice send a shiver down her spine, not that she was going to let it show to him. Instead she held her towel closer to her body, making sure it wouldn’t fall as she crossed her arms over chest and gave him a look of disapproval. “how many times did I tell you?” she scoffed “there are doors in this apartment.”
“doors are for wimps.” He muttered taking a step forward, finally taking off that stupid, unnecessary Red Hood helmet.
“Well thanks a lot!” she rolled her eyes “my experience shows that doors are basically for normal people.”
“Yeah…. Exactly baby….” He grabbed her by the waist pulling her closer to his body, brushing lips over her slightly damp cheek, hands caressing her arms up and down. “And we both know I’m an extraordinary person.”
“So much humility……” Y/N tried to keep her composure, but he always knew how to push her buttons and make her relent.
“Tell me princess…..” he muttered into her ear “why were you taking a shower this late at night?” his hand travelled up her arm moving towards the knotted front of the towel. “Did you get dirty, baby?”.
He knew exactly what he was doing putting on that sexy, seductive smirk, running his fingers over her chest, while the thin little piece of material did nothing to hide her already pebbled nipples and goosebumps forming all over her body. And Jason was always the one to enjoy teasing her, especially when he got so many clear signs of what she really wanted from him.
“Hmmmm….” He muttered, moving his touches and caresses down her body to her leg, reaching for the hem of the towel and sneaking under it only to start rubbing her inner thigh.
“Jace….” She closed her eyes, still desperately trying to keep her self-integrity that was slipping away by a second.
This was too much for her. The darkness of the apartment, the huskiness of his voice, the feel of his hands on her body. Yes, she wanted him. Yes, she might have done some things that required cleaning up, earlier that night. Yes, she was thinking about him while taking care of herself. She was really trained in self-service, but what can you expect from a girl, whose boyfriend is a vigilante, absent too many night and a woman forced to spend the nights alone in a cold, empty bed? To tell the whole truth, once she got what she wanted, Y/N thought it would be enough. After all you can’t go too many rounds running only on imaginations, right?
But then, the reason for all those dreams and fantasies were standing in front of her, in flesh and blood and her body got very excited at the sight while her brain was more than glad to pass the steering wheel to the flesh.
“Yes, sunshine?” he moved his ministrations a bit higher, smirking when she opened her legs a bit, allowing him to almost reach her throbbing clit. “wanted to say something?”
God, he was a little piece of shit, not doing anything and yet doing so much at the same time, breaking her and making her fall so freaking easily.
“Jason……”
“Hmm?”
“I…. I…..”
Fuck!
“You’re not doing very good job with talking, princess, are you now?” Jason finger started moving over her most sensitive spot in circular motions, enjoying the pained expression on her face. “If you keep wasting my time, I might… just… leave….” He whispered, removing his hand almost making her cry out in frustration. “Come on baby….. just say you need me… You know you do.”
“I do….” She gasped, grabbing both sides of his face and pressing her lips to his, letting go of all the inhibitions.
“Good girl…” he whispered against her mouth, untying the towel in one smooth motion, groaning like an animal when her naked, soft body clung to him like a second skin, that he so desperately wanted to get under.
But it was still not enough.
He had to have her. All of her. Mind, body, soul. Closer.
And he was going to claim her in a proper way, definitely not in the hallway. No.
Regardless of his stupidly teasing character she was still his princess, his queen, the love of his life and he was going to treat her exactly like that, ready to fulfil all her wishes and commands.
“Let me make you feel good baby….” He grabbed the back of her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist, palms resting on her shoulder blades pulling her even closer, walking to the bedroom, miraculously avoiding tripping over his own feet, all because of her closeness and the pleasure at taste of her lips on his.
God, he was so starved for her and the evidence of it were visible on only in the form of the tent in his tactical pants, but also in the way he threw her on the bed, making her bounce and in the manner he tore off his own body armour and clothes, almost pouncing onto her.
Almost, because he knew that if he let go completely he would most definitely hurt her and he couldn’t bare even the thought of that.
Instead he crawled on top of her, kissing up her body, her calf, thigh, stomach, torso, breast (giving a lot of attention to those perfectly pebbled nipples he needed to taste the moment they showed under the towel), collarbone and neck, finally meeting her lips.
He could eat her alive. She was so delicious, so soft, so warm, so fucking perfect and his blood boiled at the sweetness of her. Their tongues met in a crazy dance, wanting more, greedy and needy, exploring each other’s mouth.
It was like the overwhelming and encompassing fire inside them.
The world stopped existing and for what they care it could have exploded and they would be more than happy to die like this, in each other’s embrace. Touching, scratching, gripping, licking, pushing and pulling, tugging at each other’s hair, losing breath, panting and gasping unable to satiate the need, the craving of one another’s body.
“More…..” he groaned, biting on her neck, eliciting the sweetest moan from his girl, barely holding back from ripping her throat open and swallowing her like a freaking animal. His body pressed into her leaving no space between, and yet still wanting more and more and fucking more. She felt him pulling her in even more, breaking all the laws of biology and physics, as his hands travelled down to her hips, spreading her open, causing her pulse racing in the pace of a space rocket.
“Yes….” She moaned, one hand gripping the headboard, the other tangling in his hair, her whole back arching to his lips that were currently kissing alongside the valley of her breast, travelling down the same path he started earlier, and which he was going to take so many more times that night.
“I know, baby…. I know….” His breath was scorching hot on her skin, leaving invisible marks. In that moment, as in every other time they were being so close, so intimate together, with nothing between their bodies and souls, they both knew that they could never ever leave the other. They were too hooked on one another, almost like on a drugs. Jason left a permanent scar on her soul in the shape of his. The scar that she couldn’t and wouldn’t want to lose. He was a part of her, a part of her own body. They were one. Always and forever.
“I love you….” another moan escaped her mouth when he moved the tip of his tongue over her clit, his eyes sparkling with desire as he send her the mischievous, lustful gaze, before sucking on that aching spot. He was not only starved but also thirsty, ready to do everything to drink all her juices. And he methodically moved towards that goal, knowing what to do to turn her on.
She was so lost in pleasure, her body acting on its own, back arching, legs spreading, head falling back as she moaned and cried his name, pulling at his hair so ready to come, to explode, to finish.
“yes, yes, yes…. Yes, more!”
And he listened, melting in her moans, her sounds, her body, her taste. He knew he was good, he was very well aware she needed him and mindful of the amount of neglect on his part, of all those nights she spend lonely. And now he was making up for it.
But.
He was still a mix of a pleasure giver and a rascal, keeping her on the edge, surprising with every move and thought, never letting her be sure of what was going to happen.
It was both frustrating and exciting, making their intimacy a whole new, never boring experience every time.
And now, if she was going to come, he wanted her on his cock, even if protected. Tongue was simply not enough and she owed him this much for making her so wet and pretty with those flushed cheeks and desire-filled eyes. He did it for her and now was going to claim his prize.
“Babe…. Y/N…. I want to take you….” He muttered, not stopping lapping her folds with that skilful tongue, his words getting lost inside her body. “fully take you…..”
“Yes… yes… oh, yes….just don’t stop….” Y/N was so selfish and needy, focused only on reaching her climax, barely listening, that if he were to ask her to jump out the window she would probably say yes again. This was only word on her mind at the moment as long as he kept on devouring her.
“Y/N…..” he muttered again. Lust was lust, but he needed her informed consent. Every time. Even though they were a couple. Jason was a very complex man after all. “Y/N….” he groaned. “Can I have you my way?”
“fuck yes! Yes!” she cried out.
And once he heard that word coming out of her mouth, he was all ready for action. He pulled back, reaching for the nightstand, knowing she kept that little packet of condoms there, just in case (and making a mental note to himself to stock up, cause they were running short on supplies). He hovered over her body, looking straight into her eyes while tearing the packaging with his teeth, admiring her shuddering body, shining eyes, messed up hair, all of her, having to remind himself that this goddess was his.
His, his, his.
His to claim, to love, to take over and over and over again.
God! He wanted her so fucking bad his hands were shaking while taking off the protection from the wrapper.
“No….. wait…” she whispered grabbing his wrist, her eyes boring into him, causing him to freeze and drop the condom in confusion.
“wait? What do you mean wait? You …. You don’t want….?” Jason stuttered, his manhood almost flattening at the sudden rejection, which was quite embarrassing for him. “Y/N…..?” he looked at her with hurt in the eyes.
“No…. I mean…. I do… I want you….” She bit on her bottom lip in that erotic manner sending his mind into overdrive.
“Then what do you mean?” he gasped, getting all hot again, but was still dumbfounded. “Princess?”
She took the condom from his hands and send it flying through the room and shaking her head.
And then it hit him.
His eyes grew even wider, mouth falling open at the thought of what she was going to let him do to her. What she wanted. What she needed. And most importantly, how, she needed it.
“Babe…..” he gasped, unable to move, completely stuck in that moment, which was sure as hell the best ever in his life. “are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?”
“Are you trying to make me change my mind, babe?” she whispered in his ear only to pull back and give him a pout.
He was going to take her raw.
Oh god…. He was going to take her raw.
Oh, all the things he was going to do to her, all the ways he was going to make her feel him, all of him, unfiltered, finally making her fully his, after all the time of waiting.
“Fuck, Y/N!” he groaned, grabbing her waist, pressing her further into the mattress, spreading her legs open and pushing in, in one motion, doing it all in three seconds, no more, finally being inside her. And she was so wet, so warm, so soft, so perfect, so … home.
He was home.
And Jason was drifting in space, with the emotions overwhelming him completely. So good, oh, so good, he wanted to melt into her, have no boundaries, just be one with his Y/N, his babygirl.
It was the only thing on his mind right now.
Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.
“Jason…..” her desperate moaning brought him back to reality.
“Y/N…..” he gasped in response, eyes closing at the pleasure of feeling her body in a way he never got before. He was already in heaven.
“Jason … Please… move…” she whimpered, squirming desperately trying to urge him to take some action and not just freeze like a stone sculpture.
Oh, shit…..
“I can’t…” he whimpered hopelessly. How was he going to explain it to her?
“What do you meant you can’t?!” she cried out, raking her nails down his back, moving her hips against his to get any friction and turn him on “what’s going on?!”
She couldn’t comprehend what made him stop suddenly. He was inside her, big, hard like a rock, stretching her so deliciously and she wanted more. But now he was telling her fucking no?!
“Todd!!” she yelled, slowly losing her patience, her body begging for attention.
“I can’t…..” he almost sobbed, embarrassed and defeated. She was so perfect, her skin against him was amazing, the feeling of her velvety inside was bliss.
“I swear if you don’t hurry to fuck me…..” Y/N’s voice was turning a bit threating now even though she herself couldn’t come up with the idea what she was threating him with.
“'If I move I’m gonna cum….." Jason gasped, and it took her by huge surprise. He was always the resistant one. Gentlemanly, if you may. He could go three, four, five rounds making sure she was satisfied first, before letting himself go. So what the hell was happening now?!
"You haven't even been inside me for a full minute!" she protested, moving her body in a poor attempt to get what she wanted.
"Shut up!” he almost winced when she did that. “You feel so fucking good. I just can't help it. Gimme a minute, babe……." He bit on his bottom lip, trying to get himself together and finding enough strength to start pulling in and out. The best he could do was half an inch before another low groan escaped his throat. “I can’t……” his hands were on both sides of her head, their faces close enough so she could feel his ragged, heavy breath and it was getting weirder and more uncomfortable with any other second.
"Jason," she whined, "please, please, please….!." poor girl felt like crying at his point and those high-pitched whines finally made him move.
He was doing it.
He was making love to her without any stupid rubber standing in his way.
She was his, making those sweet, sweet sounds for him, crying out his name, digging nails into his back.
There were no words to describe that feeling.
And Jason was becoming more and more lightheaded with every thrust, with every move when his cock met that perfectly moist and warm cunt.
Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.
He was a bit ashamed to admit, but after a while he stopped thinking about her and focused only on his own pleasure, on his high, on his release.
MORE.
As he picked the pace, she moaned loud as never before, grabbing his body tighter, pulling him closer, losing her breath and matching his movements. Her eyes were closed, her mouth opened with that perfectly perfect expression of being thoroughly fucked.
“Yes… yes.. yes…!”
Oh yes, indeed.
He captured her mouth in his, pulling at her bottom lip, almost drawing blood. His hands found her thighs spreading her open even more, pounding into her like a wild animal, knowing no bounds, no limits, no rational thinking. Sweat was running down his face and back, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he was going to have her.
“Jace…..!!” she cried out again when he bit on her collarbone, licking the marked skin.
“Yeah, baby…..Yeah….”
“shit!”
“I got you….”
“So close!” she dug both her heels into his back, the intensity of the lovemaking almost making her lose consciousness. “Oh… Jace…JACE!!”
And then there was only bliss.
***
Not for her though.
***
Obviously he couldn’t contain himself and living up to the previously spoken words, cummed first.
Hard. Long. Filling her to the brim which was an Event (capital E) in itself, but still – leaving her unsatisfied and wanting.
Such a failure on his part.
However, Y/N did not seem to care.
After he painted her with the ropes of his cum, moaning in sheer pleasure at the feeling, she just kept holding him and rubbing his back, showing him all the love she had for him. The expression of happiness and fulfilment was a prize in itself, and despite not cumming she couldn’t feel better at that moment. She knew he wanted to stay like this, therefore there was no rushing him to pull out on her part. She was going to let him have his moment.
Her poor boy, in need of love and closeness and intimacy.
“Y/N … baby … princess …”
“I love you …” she kissed his temple.
“I’m so sorry …” Jason blushed, pulling away from her and laying on his back facing the ceiling. “Y/N, my love, I’m sorry, but I told you …” he shifted position to lay on the side, meeting her eyes, shining despite the darkness of the room. She looked … satisfied.
“Shut up …” she chuckled, cupping his cheek and kissing his nose. “that was fucking perfect…” Y/N chuckled.
“Perfect?” he frowned for a second, but quickly returned to his usual cocky self. “Yeah, it was fucking perfect. I mean, what else were you expecting with me, babygirl?” he grinned.
‘You’re such an idiot” she pushed him on his back, snuggling into his body, leaning head on his chest.
“I have to clean you up …” he objected, but those soft hands around him, the way her body aligned with his and the calm, steady beating of her heart next to him made him relent. “I think I can do it in a second …” he hummed nuzzling nose in her ruffled hair.
“Mhm…. Totally.” Y/N kissed his chest in response.
“Hey Y/N?” he called her name gently, caressing her side “did you feel good?”
“Yeah… yeah I did.”
“I still got to practise though, right?” he smirked, his touch becoming a little more intense and a bit more telling.
“You know what they say practise makes perfect.” She teased.
Poor Y/N was not going to be able to walk the next day.
@nmw-am
#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd smut#red hood smut#jason todd x y/n#red hood x y/n#jason todd x you#red hood x you#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfiction#dc smut#kinktober#kinktober 2023
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I'D MEOW FOR HIM TBH , i'll be his lil kitten, i'll do anything for him 😍😍😍- 🍥
ohhh, let's have this convo about discord mod!ayato!
𖦹. warnings: virtual sex, voice!kink, mention of n*des, cum!tribute, hints of exhibitionism.
discord mod!ayato would have two different personalities, obviously. the first one he used most of the time while playing with friends and the second one that only existed when you were on the server; when it was just him and thoma and itto and the rest of the huge server in discord arguing about games and updates of 20 other games, ayato would be SO cocky and tricky to understand — meaning that he'd constantly be making little double entendre jokes that you pretended not to understand, but when you would actually come in on game nights and he could hear your voice, it seemed like a little switch would change in his brain and he would be drooling over everything you said or did, especially when you opened the camera and had a headphone with kitty ears that glowed.
he loved those kitty ears, he loved them so much that he couldn't go two days without imagining what it would be like to see you wearing them while you were cockwarming him up while he was playing with his friends with the mic open. this was one of his biggest fantasies!
and the others consisted of basically having you suck him off under the table while his cam was on some call and fucking you with his mic on so that the whole server could hear and know that you were just his discord kitten. deep down, discord mod!ayato would want you to just admit that you liked him more than the others, more than itto, more than thoma, more than any other guy in the server, but he understood that you made a good buck off the incels idiots in the server and tried not to complain when you were talking to him alone, in a private chat away from the general one.
as a discord mod, kamisato ayato is a good boy. great, adorable. until he heard you accidentally panting into the mic in one of the calls — you had actually dropped your controller and hit your desk and were startled by the noise. and it was an instant boner for him.
ayato would feel all his blood concentrate in between his legs and before he could control himself a hand would already be massaging his cock over the sweatpants. "fuck", ayato would sigh with the mic closed and disconnected before opening it to call you to the chat with just the two of you, away from the server.
but, when you get there, discord mod!ayato would already have one hand releasing his dick from the pants and wrapping it around his shaft to start pumping it and you would innocently ask: "is everything ok?", without paying attention to how his breathing would be quickening and beating against the core of his microphone and the increasingly wet sounds coming from somewhere in his room, specifically from between his legs.
"yeah, yeah, 'm good, kitten, doin' good right— right now, can I ask you a thing?", he'd say with his voice almost wavering, his thumb rubbing and teasing the swollen tip of his leaking cock even more.
and your answer came in the format of a "mhm, 'yato" that should discord mod!ayato try too hard he would manage to turn into a moan.
"can you do what you just did, talk, whatever, on the server? that little—"
"what 're you doin', ayato?", you'd ask interrupting him as you noticed the sound of wet sounds and his head was going to fall back with eyes rolling as he heard you calling his name.
"please, kitten, just—fuck! just fucking do it, 'm needing it, you, your voice right now so fucking bad, my hand isn't enough"
it wasn't the first time he got off to you. you knew this because thoma may or may not have accidentally let it slip while ayato was offline to sort something out with ayaka at home.
and it would be a lie if you called him gross or said that you never imagined him touching you while yours fingers were deep in your hole in the middle of the night; discord mod!ayato may be a bit of a pervert guy, but he is your favorite pervy.
you would help him to get off, telling him to imagine that it was your hand around his cock and that you were in his room just waiting for him to come so you could ride him and that you were going to let him use your holes as cumdumps — and you would be touching such a sensitive spot of ayato's here, pretty boy having a breeding kink.
at the end, right after he came and took a picture with his other hand to send you — after all, this was a prize for you, for being such a good and helpful discord kitten, discord mod!ayato would ask you if you wanted to come to his house while ayaka was away, his mic would be ready to pick up all your sounds when his cock was balls deep in your tight hole.
— genshin masterlist.
#genshin impact smut#ayato smut#ayato kamisato x reader#ayato kamisato smut#genshin smut#genshin x reader#genshin x reader smut#ayato x reader#ayato kamisato drabble#kamisato ayato x reader#kamisato ayato smut#genshin impact x reader#tw.breeding kink#tw.exhibitionism#— 🍥 anon ⨾#(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) — kiki's answer ᵎ
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Pillow Talk
A/N: i will never apologize for being horny on main
AO3 Link
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Summary: After an entire day of staring at you in that bikini, Loki is left utterly desperate for release. Good thing he sleeps with a lot of pillows.
Tags: masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!Loki, pining
Loki shifted on the bed, mashing his face roughly into the satin pillow case. It was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept. Even the tiniest hint of sleep had evaded him, and he’d tossed and turned enough to make his muscles ache in protest. With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. This was never going to work.
He had no one to blame but himself for his insomnia. Really, it was pathetic, the way his mind had latched onto one silly little human and made her the object of his obsession. You with your silky hair and soft eyes, keeping him up until the morning hours. Your melodic voice rang in his eardrums, and every time he closed his eyes, he’d see that perfect skin of yours and wish it was pressed up against--
With a gasp, Loki swiftly brought his hands down to grasp the sheets in agony. He wished he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t bed anyone in at least a decade, but he knew himself. Celibacy had never been an issue for him in the past; he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could control his needs. But you had him feeling like one all over again. The way he gawked at you like it was his first time seeing a pair of breasts nearly spill out of a way-too-tight tank top, it was downright shameful. You were just so innocent, so pure, and he longed to see that smile collapse into a pout as you whimpered against his lips.
Despite his best efforts, Loki could feel his cock throb in renewed need. It had been begging for release nearly all night, and Loki had successfully ignored it so far. He held steady in his determination in not giving in, but his resolve was slipping. Today has been especially tortuous. Tony and his goddamn insistence that Loki participate in team bonding. A day at the beach, one which Loki spent lounging in the hot sand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. You had splashed around in the waves with Natasha and bounced around in a bikini that seemed specifically designed to torture Loki. The bottoms had shifted themselves to ride up quite a few times, and Loki had taken pleasure in watching you reach back with slippery fingers to pull them out of your ass.
Loki’s cock throbbed again, almost violently this time. He moaned softly into the open air. The sound was pained, and Loki felt his hand begin to drift towards the string of his pajama bottoms. They were silk, and because Loki had chosen to forgo underwear, the soft material felt like heaven against his swollen erection. Before his fingers could slip inside to where he needed them most, Loki ripped them away in defiance and turned onto his side, tangling the blanket between his legs as he rolled. The pressure of the thick comforter into his crotch made Loki suck in a surprised breath. His hips twitched upward of their own accord and Loki’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.
Loki could feel his will dissolving with every jolt of pleasure that swam up his spin. His mind spun with images of you: you curled up against him, reaching back with your dainty hand to pull him closer to you, encouraging him to grind against your backside. As if he was in a daze, Loki grabbed one of the many pillows adorning his bed and shoved it between his legs. The firmness of the pillow was so much more satisfying than the blanket, and Loki groaned.
It was over, he had accepted defeat. Loki was about to hump his pillow like an animal and it was all your fault. He thought of that wet bikini sticking to your skin, your breasts bouncing as you jogged back up the beach to him and breathed out a “what’s up” like he wasn’t about to cum in his swim trunks just from watching you. As the memories danced through his head, Loki’s hips began to roll in more deliberate motions. With every thrust, his cock pressed up against the soft material of his pants. Loki could feel the pre-cum wetting the silk, but it only served to amplify his pleasure as the damp fabric clung to his skin.
The buzzing of his phone startled Loki out of his fantasies, and he nearly wanted to throw the thing against the wall. Tony would get him a new one, as he always did no matter how many times that Loki had insisted they were unnecessary devices. As much as he wanted to let it ring, Loki had learned that calls at this hour usually meant an unexpected mission, and he’d be back on house arrest if he didn’t answer. Loki reluctantly leaned over to his bedside table to grab the vibrating object, keeping the pillow between his legs. His heart came to a near stop as he saw your name illuminated on the screen.
A few moments passed as Loki stared dry-mouthed at the caller ID, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Because the only explanation for you calling him in the middle of the night was that he was dreaming. Sure, you had texted him the occasional internet video that you thought he’d enjoy, but had never called him. And certainly not at five in the morning. With a hard swallow, Loki hit the “accept call” button and waited.
“Hey, Loki?” Came your tired-sounding voice. It wasn’t as gorgeous when muffled by the phone static, but it gave Loki shivers nonetheless.
“What is this about?” Loki tried to sound as irritated as possible, figuring that would be the proper reaction to receiving a call this early. The truth was that he was elated to hear your voice, and was disgusted by himself. A mortal, making him this weak in the knees, it was absolutely pathetic.
You were silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep. I-I’m not really sure why I called you, I’m sorry for waking you up. I’ll just--”
“Wait!” Loki burst out before you could end the call. His loud voice echoed back at him in the silent room and he cringed, hoping that no one had heard him. Loki bit his lip anxiously, uncertain of what to say to keep you on the line. “Um, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”
“Oh, I guess that’s good. Well, not really good that you can’t sleep, I mean good that I didn’t wake you.”
Loki chuckled at your awkward ramblings. Norns, you were so cute. “Don’t worry, pet, I know what you meant.” As the words left his lips, Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just called you. Pet. It had been a slip of the tongue, but it brought forth a whole new round of fantasies. He couldn’t help but imagine about what it would be like to own you, to grab you by your pretty face and push his cock between your lips over and over. Absent-mindedly, Loki began to move his hips against the pillow again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. As quietly as he could manage, he put the call on speaker and set the phone down beside him so he could lie back on his side and resume his earlier activities. Loki knew it was so, so wrong to do this while you were none-the-wiser, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so worked up for so long and now it was like his body had taken over, hell bent on getting the relief it needed.
“So, why couldn’t you sleep?”
“Oh, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose,” Loki said as his eyes fell shut. His voice was the slightest bit strained, the soft drag of his pants against his cock making it hard to focus.
“Yeah, same here.” You sighed into the phone, and Loki heard a bit of rustling as you presumably got more comfortable. “I have trouble sleeping a lot, actually. I guess I just get lonely.”
A heavy weight of guilt sank into Loki’s chest. Here you were, opening yourself up to him, and he was trying to get off to the sound of your voice. He was truly depraved, that was for sure. But fuck, the tired rasp to your voice and the small sighs you let out were sending him sky high. His mind was running wild with fantasies of you under him, you in his lap, you up against the wall as he fucked you into it. Loki fought to sound normal as he responded to you. “I understand. Most beings are very social creatures, we need company to--ah!” A particularly rough thrust of his hips had caught Loki off guard as the mind-numbing pleasure rocketed through his body.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, pet,” Loki said, panting as he forced his hips to still. “Just stretching.” It was a lame excuse, but Loki was too far gone to come up with anything better. His body quaked as he tried to keep still, like his own muscles were attempting to disobey his brain. Everything in him was screaming out for more. Cum, you need to cum. Once again, Loki was forced to give in as his hips resumed their grinding. The pillow itself was now damp with how much he was leaking, and it felt amazing.
The phone was quiet, and Loki could almost hear how hard you were thinking on the other end. And then: “Loki, are you...masturbating?” Your voice trailed off as you said that word. The sheer embarrassment was evident in your tone, and Loki was almost astounded at how bold you were. Not many humans had the nerve to just up and ask something like that.
Even through the shock of being caught, Loki could not find it in him to be surprised that you had caught on. You had always come across as intelligent to him, it was foolish to think he could fool you with a half-hearted excuse. Still, it was beyond humiliating to have been called out so brazenly. Loki saw no point in denying it; you would not have asked if you weren't sure. “Yes,” he replied, voice cracking as he froze in place for the second time. Despite the embarrassment, Loki’s erection did not not falter. In fact, it seemed that he only got harder. This mortal would be the death of him.
“O-oh!” You seemed surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. “I’m so sorry, I guess I interrupted you, huh? Shit, I’m sorry.” How absurd. Loki was the one shamelessly rubbing himself against a pillow while talking to you, and you were the one apologizing.
Loki found it intriguing that you hadn’t hung up immediately upon learning of his actions. You hadn’t seemed disgusted at all, just apologetic for interrupting his activities. Loki wasn’t sure if your lack of repulsion was what caused it, or if it was simply his need clouding his judgement, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it. “It’s excellent for sleep. I highly recommend it for nights like these.”
There was no sugar coating it; that was a proposition, no matter how poorly disguised it was as simple advice. “Um,” came your faint reply. Loki’s face burned as he pictured the look of horror you were probably wearing at the moment. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as you spoke again. “Yeah, I tried earlier. Wasn’t really...working.”
A new gush of blood found its way into Loki’s cock at your admission. He couldn’t help but imagine you writhing on your bed, soaked in sweat and your own slick as you tried desperately to get to that crescendo of pleasure. His blush had somehow grown even stronger, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had even blushed at all. This mortal was killing him, you were his executioner and he was begging for you to pull the trigger.
“That’s quite unfortunate,” Loki managed through his reverie. He was still frozen, almost scared to begin his motions again for fear of cumming on the spot. His cock twitched in time with his racing heart, occasionally dripping precum into his pants. Loki was a mess, but he could not bring himself to care in the slightest. All that mattered was the arousal screaming under his skin and your intoxicating voice in his ears.
“Yeah. Sorry, should I go? And let you, y’know, finish?”
Loki racked his brain for an excuse to get you to stay. It was maddening, how quickly you had ruined him. Seduction was one of his many talents, as was manipulation. In the past, he would have had no trouble at all talking someone into his bed and onto his cock, but you were different. Every flirtation died on his lips the moment he was in your presence, and it was all he could do to form complete sentences as you turned his knees to jelly.
After an excruciating period of silence as Loki thought, he finally spoke. “It would be unfair of me to abandon you in favor of pleasuring myself when you cannot do the same.”
This time it was your turn to stay quiet. Loki waited anxiously, half-expecting you to just leave anyway. He had already come to terms with your disinterest in him, you were probably just being polite. But...you had called him. There must have been at least a slight attraction for Loki to have been on your mind after attempting to get yourself off.
“Maybe we could…” There was a tremble to your voice as you trailed off, and Loki held his breath as he waited for you to finish. Whatever your suggestion ended up being, he was ready to enthusiastically agree. Anything that involved you and pleasure was incredibly enticing. “Maybe we don’t have to hang up, then.”
Loki’s eyes went wide. Did you mean…? An involuntary moan fell from his lips as he shivered at the thought. “I would, mm, not be opposed to that idea.” Loki’s body had won over for the final time that night and his hips began to move again. After restraining himself for so long, feeling that delicious friction once again nearly overwhelmed him.
“I don’t really know how to do this,” you said. “I can’t really believe I actually asked you that.”
“Would you like instruction, pet?”
“That might help, yeah.”
Loki began to wonder if he was dead, and this was his version of Valhalla. Whatever the case, he was going to ride this high for as long as he could. Everything else seemed to fade into the distance: the chirping of birds outside as the sun rose, the hum of the traffic down below, all of it meant nothing. It meant nothing because you were on the other side of the phone asking for Loki to tell you how to touch yourself. Loki took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself; he needed to let you catch up before he could allow himself to lose control.
“I want you to get undressed, and get comfortable.” That was a simple enough command, Loki figured. If he started slow, maybe he could reign in his pathetic neediness and focus solely on your pleasure.
“Okay, I can do that.” The speaker went quiet as you presumably settled onto your bed and slipped out of your pajamas. “Now what?”
“Touch your breasts,” Loki said. His breathing was heavy, but even as he settled into the role of your instructor. “Rub your fingers across them, tell me how it feels.”
You sighed happily. “It feels really nice. Can you tell me what you’re doing?”
Loki was a bit ashamed to admit that he was currently grinding into a pillow, but figured there was no point in lying. “I’m, uh, I have a pillow between my legs, and I’m rubbing against it.”
A whimper burst from your lips. “Oh, that’s so hot.”
“Is it?” Loki asked hesitantly. He didn’t feel very attractive; slick trousers and sweat coated skin, fighting hard to hold it together.
“Yeah, fuck. Can I touch myself, please?”
Loki wanted to drag it out a bit longer, to tease you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to that pretty voice. Especially when you asked so nicely. “Go ahead, pet. You’re such a good girl.”
There was a faint slick sound, then a drawn out moan. Loki groaned in response, the sound extracting a full body shiver from the god. He had never heard such alluring sounds of pleasure, you were just so far above any other being he had ever met. “That’s it,” he murmured in encouragement.
“Feels so good,” you said, voice growing high pitched. “Shit, I’m not gonna last too long. Ah, fuck. Been needing this all night.”
Loki sucked in a breath and began to thrust with more fervor. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pressure and his thighs squeezed around the pillow. “That’s okay, darling. I, oh--” Loki cut himself off with a strangled moan as his pleasure mounted. “I need to cum, too.”
For a moment, panting and whimpered moans were the only thing coming through the speaker. Loki prayed that you were as close as he was, because the coil tightening in his stomach threatened to snap at any moment. It was all he could do to keep from allowing his release to overtake him before you got yours. “Please, pet. I want to hear you cum,” he ground out as his eyes fell shut.
“So close,” you whined. “Loki, I’m gonna cum.”
He couldn’t help it. Loki’s control disintegrated as he began rutting into the pillow like a wild animal. His hips moved in sharp, quick thrusts, and quiet moans left his lips with every movement. ‘Cum--fuck, mm--cum for me, love.” He was going to cum, he couldn’t stop. He just needed you to finish first.
The phone crackled as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Loki listened in a trance, trying to memorize every noise that left your lips as you climaxed. Your sounds spurred him on, and he found himself tipping over the edge, cumming harder than he had in a long time. Pleasure whited out his vision, and Loki could faintly hear himself whining your name in a broken voice. He didn’t get the chance to be embarrassed about the noise; his cock pulsed in dizzying waves of euphoria, spurting out rope after rope of hot cum. It shot into his pants, soaking them all the way through and seeping into the pillow. It wasn’t until the last drop had left his body that he was finally able to stop the groans that had been bubbling up from his throat.
As the pleasure subsided, Loki sagged against the bed and took in the mess he had made. His pants were ruined, no doubt about that. And the pillow? Well, it would most likely need a few good washes. But he felt sated, too relaxed to even care about the cum drying to his thighs.
“Are you still there?”
Fuck, he had almost forgotten that you were still on the phone. “Yes,” he croaked out. “That was…”
“Amazing,” you finished for him. Though you couldn’t see him, Loki nodded in agreement.
The bed suddenly felt very large and very empty after the daze of Loki’s orgasm faded. He found himself wishing that you were here, so he could wrap his arms around that perfect waist and bury his nose in your hair. It was an incredibly foreign feeling; Loki had never been one to cuddle after sex. But then again, everything about you was different. You were special. Loki opened his mouth, ready to invite you to his room, but something stopped him. What if this had been just a spur of the moment thing for you? What if you only saw him as a tool to get yourself off?
“Would it be weird if I came down there?” You asked, startling Loki out of his thoughts. There you went again, calming his anxieties before he even had the chance to feel them.
A relieved grin broke out on his face, and his heart sped up again in excitement. “No, I would very much enjoy that.” And for the first time in a very long time, Loki felt wanted.
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Your Favorite — Part 1
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same...
Category: SMUT (18+)
Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅)
Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST
DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.
NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.
———
JUNE 5th
I hate my mom's new boyfriend.
For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.
And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.
It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.
I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.
But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.
And I hate him.
His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.
He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.
I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.
Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.
And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"
She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.
But I can't tell her that, obviously.
And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.
"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."
JUNE 19th
It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.
I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...
I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.
We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.
It's Spencer.
I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.
Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.
But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.
Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.
It's truly pathetic.
So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.
And I most definitely do not want that.
In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.
So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.
When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.
It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.
Fuck!
I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.
This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.
And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.
But it's only been two weeks.
And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...
I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.
———
I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.
Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.
Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.
The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.
"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.
And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"
Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.
"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.
He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.
"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."
I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"
The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.
"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."
Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...
That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...
He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."
I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."
Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.
Big mistake.
His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.
"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.
It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.
It also makes me incredibly stupid.
An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.
"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.
I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.
"Is it working?"
This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.
That has to be it.
So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.
And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.
Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...
Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.
But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.
I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.
Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.
———
When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.
Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?
Wrong.
It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.
But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.
Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.
It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.
That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.
It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.
———
There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.
"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.
"Can I come in?"
"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.
He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.
"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.
And that's when it starts to click into place.
There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.
He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...
But fuck, it excites me.
I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.
"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.
I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.
He must have heard me in the shower.
Right?
I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.
"So you heard me, huh?"
I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.
I've caught him. And he knows it.
"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.
Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.
It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."
The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.
Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.
Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.
But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.
They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.
He's nervous.
To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.
"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"
His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."
He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.
"Spencer?" I call out.
He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.
"I'm sorry, too..."
No the fuck I'm not.
Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.
Still, he only nods and retreats.
All there's left to do is see what happens.
JUNE 25th
For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.
To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.
My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.
But I still can't shake him entirely.
Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.
I wish I could say that I hate it.
But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.
Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.
I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.
I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.
"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.
Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.
And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.
Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.
I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.
"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.
"You're acting this way on purpose."
Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.
"What do you mean?"
"Y/N..."
My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"
Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.
But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.
I have to know for sure.
So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."
Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.
When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.
Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.
Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.
But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.
"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.
I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."
He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."
I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.
Besides... If my theory is right...
"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"
"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."
"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"
This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."
I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.
He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.
I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.
Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.
I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.
Now there's just one more bill to take care of.
I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.
I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.
Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.
I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)
But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.
My Sweethearts,
I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!
XOXO,
Eve/Mom
I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.
Perfect.
But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.
The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.
The lavender panties.
As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.
That's right. When.
I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.
"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."
It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.
"Sure."
He disappears and then I wait.
One...
Two...
Three.
I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.
My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.
My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.
Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.
He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.
I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.
And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.
And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.
"You come fast."
Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.
"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."
"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."
He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.
"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."
This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."
"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."
He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.
"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."
"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."
My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."
"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.
When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."
Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.
"It's too late for that..."
My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.
"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."
A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."
He swallows. "Don't what?"
"Don't stop yourself."
I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.
His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.
And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.
That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.
The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.
And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.
"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."
I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.
"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"
He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.
He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"
The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.
I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.
"Do your worst..."
———
Turns out he was very true to his word.
Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.
She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.
Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.
"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"
His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.
"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"
He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.
"I wished it was yours..."
My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.
I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.
"Here's what's going to happen..."
He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.
"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."
Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.
I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.
"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"
Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.
"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."
He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."
His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.
I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.
———
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want you to want me - m. tkachuk
a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.
big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm
warnings: smut
You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.
It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.
Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.
Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.
You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.
“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”
You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.
“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.
Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most
of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.
But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.
***
Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?
Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.
Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.
“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”
“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.
“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”
“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.
“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”
It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets.
So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.
“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”
“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”
Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.
“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”
“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.
“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”
Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.
“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.
“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”
“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you.
No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.
Maybe you could be friends.
***
Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.
“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.
“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”
“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”
“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”
“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”
Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.
“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.
“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”
“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”
Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”
Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.
“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.
“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.
“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.
“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”
“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.
“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”
Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.
“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”
You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.
Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.
“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.
“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”
“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”
Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.
“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.
“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”
“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”
Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.
And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.
***
“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”
You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.
“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.
“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.
Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”
“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”
“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.
“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.
“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.
“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”
“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”
Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.
“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.
“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”
There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.
Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once
Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.
“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.
“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”
“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, ��Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”
“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.
And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”
She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?
***
Maybe you were spiraling.
You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.
And Matthew noticed.
You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.
Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.
“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.
“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”
“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”
“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”
“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.
“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.
“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”
“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”
“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.
“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”
“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.
“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”
“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”
“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”
Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.
“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.
“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.
Forever with you.
***
Matthew was kind of pissed off.
The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.
A letter he earned.
You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.
“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.
“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”
“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.
“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.
“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”
“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”
You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.
“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”
You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.
“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”
“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”
Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”
“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”
You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.
But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.
***
Just admit you think he’s hot.
You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.
Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.
“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.
“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.
“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”
“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”
“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”
“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.
“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”
“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”
You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”
Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”
The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”
You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”
“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”
“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”
“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”
“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.
“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”
You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”
“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”
“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”
“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”
You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.
“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”
“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”
You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.
So now all he could was wait.
***
You know this is creepy right?
Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.
And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.
“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.
“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.
“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”
“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.
You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.
And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.
***
You were so close you could have tasted it.
While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.
And Matthew watched it.
Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.
Doors open in Calgary.
and I’m so fucking proud of you.
It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.
Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”
Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”
“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.
You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter.
Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”
“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”
“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.
“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”
“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”
Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.
“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”
You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”
“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”
“You’re a cocky asshole.”
“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”
***
One year Later
You had a good reason to be late.
You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.
You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”
“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.
“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.
“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.
“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.
And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.
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steel and lace
minors do not interact
warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie
pairing: bakugou x fem!reader
wc: 3.8k
summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.
a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk and @therealvalkyrie for beta reading <333
edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop
Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.
Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.
What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.
Every year he regretted it.
The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.
Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?
And the singing.
If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.
But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.
But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.
Well. Guess what happened?
“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”
Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.
Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”
Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”
“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”
Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.
“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”
Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.
“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”
Oh. So that was it.
Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.
It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.
But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.
And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.
At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.
When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.
Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.
It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.
Like barren.
For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.
No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.
He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.
He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.
You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.
“New prototype. You like?”
The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.
But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.
So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.
Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.
You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.
Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.
“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.
“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”
Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.
“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”
That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.
“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.
And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.
“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”
“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.
There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”
You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.
He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.
After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.
“Ready?” he asked.
Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.
Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.
“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”
You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.
“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”
Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.
“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.
No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.
“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”
The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.
“God you feel so big.”
“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”
The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.
“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”
“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.
Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.
“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”
Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.
“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”
All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.
He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.
Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.
Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.
“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”
You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.
“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”
In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.
“A fucking lingerie line?”
A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”
Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”
“But Katsuki,” you whined.
“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.
There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.
He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.
“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”
Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.
“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.
“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”
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Photoshoot Fantasies - Fred Weasley
Title: Photoshoot Fantasies
Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFW!!! Dom!Fred, daddy kink, spanking, masturbation (male and female) oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, choking, begging, dirty talk
Summary: Fred doesn’t like it when his girlfriend gets naughty without his permission
A/N: this is….pure filth. For the anon who wanted some smut with dom!fred. this is literally like 3% plot and 97% smut lmao so I hope you enjoy!! Requests are open and feedback is always welcomed!!
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“Oi, lover boy! You’ve got a letter from your girlfriend,” George calls teasingly from the kitchen.
Fred groans as he rolls over in bed, his hands coming up to rub the last bits of sleep from his eyes. He squints as he opens his eyes, due to the bright streaks of sunlight coming in from the break in his curtains. Fred takes a moment to mentally prepare himself for the day before he heaves himself out of bed, and shuffles into the kitchen.
“Good morning dear brother of mine,” George greets far too cheerily for the early hour.
Fred grunts in response and takes a seat across from George, waving his wand so a cup of coffee lands in front of him. He usually isn’t one to need caffeine in the morning, his own natural energy is usually enough to clear the sleep induced fog from his head, but he’s been having trouble sleeping lately since Y/N hasn’t been by his side.
After graduation, Y/N landed her dream job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. Fred had been so proud of her, and he loved how excited she was each night as she told him about her day over dinner. Unfortunately, her job had one huge drawback: traveling. Every so often Y/N would travel to different parts of the UK and Europe to get updates on the population of certain magical creatures or to help develop and implement conservation plans. A week ago, she left for her longest trip yet, an entire month, and Fred hasn’t been able to sleep well since.
“Where’s this letter then?” Fred asks after he has a few sips of coffee. He can feel the caffeine working its’ magic, and his brain is finally clear enough to string a sentence together.
George rolls his eyes and tosses a thick envelope at Fred. “You two are sickening, you know that? I think she wrote you a bloody novel about how much she loves you and misses you,” George says, pretending to throw up.
Fred flips George off, trying to contain the blush forming on his face. “Don’t act like you didn’t stand in the doorway for 15 minutes last night kissing Angelina goodbye, git.” Fred can feel George’s eyes on him as he fiddles with the envelope. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he bites.
“Someone is feeling feisty,” George retorts with a laugh. “Come on then, open the damn letter. Let’s see how long it takes her to start waxing poetically about your eyes.”
Fred glares at George as his fingers quickly rip open the envelope. Normally he would wait for George to go and busy himself with something else or he’d retreat to his room so he could bask in Y/N’s words by himself, but it’s been far too long since he’s seen her and Fred thinks he might explode if he waits any longer to read her letter. “Oh,” he says softly in surprise, when he only pulls out one piece of parchment. The envelope hadn’t been bulky from the lovely letter she wrote him, but the half a dozen photographs she had included. His eyes scan over the short note, a small smile appearing on his face.
To my dearest Freddie Eddie Spaghetti,
Things are going well up in Scotland, Niffler birth rates are through the roof thanks to the plan we implemented last year. We’ve spent the last few days prepping a large cohort of them to send off to Egypt to assist the rune breakers Gringotts has out there. I’ll be off to France in a day or so to check up on some of the Thestrals we brought to a conservatory outside of Nice a few months ago, hopefully they’ve acclimated well.
I’ve been missing you like crazy, Freddie. You’re all I seem to think about these days, it’s been quite hard to focus on my work. I don’t know how I’m going to manage going three more weeks without seeing your face or being held in your arms. You better rest up, because you won’t be getting any sleep for days once I’m finally back home with you.
I’ve included a few photos that will hopefully keep you company while I’m still away.
Love you lots and lots and lots, Y/N
“That’s it? One stinky piece of parchment?” George asks, clearly annoyed. “There’s my day, ruined. Thought I’d get a nice laugh at least since you’ve been so miserable. What else is in the envelope then?”
Fred’s eyes are still scanning the letter, trying to commit the words to memory and he absentmindedly grabs the stack of photos to show George. “She sent photos,” he responds, finally putting the letter to the side. “Probably of all the baby Nifflers,” he adds with a chuckle.
“Let me see, then,” George says excitedly, reaching his hand out. “Remember when she sent those photos of the baby dragons dressed up in onesies? That was jokes. Bet she put hats on them this time.”
As Fred goes to hand George the stack of photos he gets a glimpse of the one on top. His eyes widen and he quickly pulls his arm back, cradling the photos against his chest. “Nope, sorry. You can’t see them.”
“What? Why not?” George watches as Fred starts to fidget in his seat and a red flush starts to take over his face. “Oh my god!” he says suddenly with a laugh, realization hitting him. “She sent you nudes! What a little minx. You two are far more disgusting than I ever could have imagined.”
Fred clears his throat, choosing to ignore George. “Well I’m going to go back to my room and uh, respond to this letter. See you later.” Fred tries to act as normal as possible as he heads back to his room, desperately trying to ignore George’s cackling. He breathes a sigh of relief as he shuts his door behind him, leaning on it for a moment.
Fred rids himself of his T-shirt and climbs back onto his bed in nothing but his boxers. This isn’t how he planned on spending his morning, but Fred is more than happy to change his plans. He sits up in bed, his back pressed up against his cold wall and his legs splayed out. While Fred would consider himself adventurous in the bedroom, this is the first time Y/N has ever done anything like this, and he can feel himself getting aroused already.
“Merlin,” he groans as he allows himself to look at the first photo. Y/N is laying in the middle of a bed wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and the matching pair of panties, a set Fred is all too familiar with. Her whole face isn’t visible, just her mouth, and as the photo moves her tongue comes out to lick her bottom lip and her hand lightly trails down her torso to her thigh.
He balances the stack of photos on his lap for a moment, his right hand pushing his boxers down to his thighs. Fred had planned on drawing out the experience, but he’s already rock hard from the first photo. He throws the first photo on the bed beside him as he wraps his hand around himself, and he picks the stack back up.
Fred starts to slowly stroke himself as his eyes rake over the next photograph, his mouth running dry. Y/N is laying in the same position as before, but the bra she was wearing in the first photo has been discarded, and as the photo moves her hands massage her breasts and she bites her lip.
“Oh fuck,” he moans, as he moves onto the next photo. Y/N is now completely naked, and as the photo moves one of her hands trails down her front from her breast to her core while her other hand pinches and toys with one of her nipples.
Fred starts to stroke himself faster and is unable to contain the grunts that fall from his mouth as he moves to the next photo. His thumb rubs the sensitive tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that has started to accumulate, helping his hand glide easier as he strokes. In the next photo, Y/N’s mouth is open, and Fred is sure a breathy moan is leaving her lips, as the movement of the photo shows Y/N starting to slowly rub her clit as her other hand fists in the sheets underneath her.
“Oh, fucking shit,” Fred groans as he looks at the second to last photo, his hand stilling on his cock to stop himself from finishing just yet. Y/N’s feet are now flat against the bed, her knees bent and open wide. As the photo moves Fred can clearly see Y/N sink two fingers into herself as her thumb rubs at her clit. Her other hand tugs at the sheets and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s on the brink of her release.
Fred starts to stroke himself again as he reveals the last photo, his orgasm quickly approaching. Y/N’s entire body is flushed red and as the photo moves her back arches, her toes curl, and her whole body trembles as she reaches her orgasm.
Fred’s thumb teases the sensitive head of his cock as his eyes wander over all of the photos. He focuses on the last one, and as Y/N once again reaches her climax Fred does as well. His head tips back and he lets out a low moan as he releases all over his stomach, his cock twitching in his hand. Fred continues to lightly stroke himself as he comes down from his high, his breath coming out in hard pants.
When he gets to be too sensitive he releases himself, letting his cock lay against his stomach. He reaches for his wand so he can clean himself off with a simple spell. But an even better idea pops into his head.
“Accio, camera,” he casts, watching as the top drawer of their dresser opens and his camera starts to fly over to him. He grips the camera and points it at himself, so his body from his torso to the tops of his thighs are in shot. Fred makes sure that his limp cock and the come on his stomach is the center of the photo, and once he’s pleased with the shot he clicks the shutter button.
Fred places the camera on his bed as the photo prints and develops, grabbing his wand and cleaning himself off with a spell. He pulls his boxers back up and gets out of bed, rummaging around for some parchment and a quill. Once he finds what he needs he writes out a quick letter to Y/N.
To my dearest Y/N,
I’m glad to hear everything is going well with work. I’m so proud of you and the things you do. Things at the shop are going well, the new range of whiz-bangs sold out in just a few days. I’m missing you like mad, I can’t wait for you to get home.
Those photos you sent me were very naughty. How dare you pleasure yourself like that without Daddy’s permission. I think Daddy’s going to have to punish you when he finally gets his hands on you. 10 spanks sounds fair, doesn’t it princess? I think you deserve it, after the mess you caused Daddy to make all over himself.
Love you lots and lots and lots and lots, Freddie Eddie Spaghetti
Fred grabs the now developed photo from his bed as he reads over the letter, a satisfied smile on his face. He folds up the letter and tucks it into an envelope along with the photo before he seals it and addresses it to Y/N. As he goes to leave his room he spots a piece of folded up parchment on his floor and he grabs it, opening it up as he heads towards the window in the kitchen.
I’m going to Angelina’s. Use a silencing charm next time you perv.
Fred laughs at George’s note as he sends their owl away with his letter, already thinking about taking advantage of his brother’s absence.
-
“Someone is in a good mood this morning,” George muses as Fred saunters down into the shop just before opening.
Fred adjusts his tie as he joins his brother at the till, a huge smile on his face. Just like last week, a letter had arrived from Y/N this morning with another filthy set of photos. This time she was in a lingerie set that Fred didn’t recognize, and she brought herself to her climax using one of the toys Fred had purchased for her as a Valentine’s Day present earlier in the year. Fred had just enough time to bring himself to his own orgasm and write her back before he had to get dressed and head down to work.
“And why wouldn’t I be?” Fred asks as he unlocks the door and turns the open sign on with a wave of his wand. “The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. It’s a beautiful day, Georgie.”
George looks Fred over before he scrunches his face up in disgust. “Y/N sent you another letter today didn’t she?” When Fred sends George a wink he gags. “Bloody disgusting. I hope you washed your hands.”
“And why would Fred need to be washing his hands?” Verity asks as she comes back from the storeroom with some more love potions to be stocked.
Fred’s face flushes red as George start to laugh. “No reason in particular,” he stutters out. Fred turns to George and glares at him. “You’re such an arse.” Fred moves to hit George upside the head, but he ducks his brother’s advance and heads over to help the two customers that have just walked in the door.
“You lot don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” Verity says as she chuckles and shakes her head.
-
Fred sighs to himself as he sits up in bed, his eyes scanning over some of his notes. He and George are in the early days of developing some new products, and he’s working out some of the initial bugs before they start production next week. At least that’s what he’s supposed to be doing, but his mind is definitely elsewhere. Y/N’s third letter had arrived a few days ago, and he can’t help but let his mind wander to the new photoset sitting in his bedside drawer. It seems that his threats of punishment have fallen on deaf ears, because the photos Y/N has sent have been dirtier each time, and he can’t help but imagine what will be waiting for him in the envelope when her final letter arrives in a few days.
“What do you want?” Fred asks dully when there’s a knock at his door, not bothering to look up at George.
“That’s an awfully rude way to greet your girlfriend after you haven’t seen her for nearly a month,” Y/N says, the smile evident in her voice.
Fred’s head snaps up immediately, a smile taking over his face. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He immediately climbs off the bed and heads over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Y/N drops her bag on the ground and wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, pulling him down so she can kiss him sweetly. “We finished everything up a few days early. Figured I’d come home and surprise you.”
Fred presses their lips together again hotly, his hands moving down to Y/N’s thighs. He lifts her up, his hands gripping her tightly and moves her over to the bed. “God I missed you,” he murmurs into their kiss, before he tosses her onto the bed.
“Couldn’t have missed me too much, not with all the photos I sent you,” Y/N giggles as she lays back on the bed.
Fred’s eyes darken and he can’t help but let out a groan as he thinks about those pictures. He can feel himself start to get aroused, and he grabs his wand, waving it so that his door slams shut, and locks and a silencing charm falls around his room.
“Such a naughty girl you were, Y/N. Taking those photos without Daddy’s permission,” he scolds, his voice low and rough.
Y/N squirms on the bed, looking up at Fred as innocent as possible. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to make you feel good while I was gone,” she explains sweetly. “And clearly it worked, that photo you sent me made me so wet, Daddy.”
Fred bites his lip as he watches her squirm on the bed, taking pride in the fact that he can see a blush forming on her cheeks. “Oh, you made Daddy feel very good, princess. But you were still being a little brat. And you know what happens to brats? Don’t you?”
Y/N can feel herself getting wet as arousal starts to build in her stomach. She’s been waiting for this moment since Fred mentioned spanking her in his first letter. “They get punished,” she responds airily, fists clenching to keep from touching herself.
“That’s right princess, they get punished.” Fred pauses, letting his eyes roam up and down Y/N’s body. “Daddy think 30 swats is good, 15 on each cheek. Don’t you think, princess?” Fred smirks when Y/N lets out a whine as she nods wildly. “What should I use, hm? My hand? Or should I get the paddle?”
“Your hand, please,” Y/N begs. As much as she loves the paddle, she craves the feeling of Fred’s hand on her ass.
Fred smirks down at her. “Normally brats don’t get what they want. But you asked so nicely, princess.” Fred tears his gaze away from Y/N and takes seat on the end of their bed. “Get naked for Daddy and come stand in front of me.”
Y/N immediately gets off of the bed and rids herself of all of her clothing. Normally when they play this game she loves to drag it out and tease Fred endlessly. But she’s been on the edge for nearly 4 weeks and Fred has already been preparing to punish her, and she doesn’t want to find out what he’ll do if she’s even more naughty now that they’re finally back together. Y/N comes to stand in front of Fred, feeling shy under his intense gaze.
“God you are so gorgeous, princess,” Fred compliments, his hand reaching out to lightly grip her hip. He rubs circles into the bare skin, reassuring her. “Come on then. Get in Daddy’s lap.” Fred helps Y/N get situated across his lap, laying on her front. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, letting his hand run down her back, over her bum and to her thigh. “Do you have anything to say to Daddy? Before he gives you your punishment,” he drawls, his hand pushing in between her legs to rub at her wet folds.
Y/N gasps at his touch, her eyes falling closed. “I’m sorry for being a naughty girl, Daddy,” she moans out as Fred rubs her clit ever so slightly.
“Thank you princess,” he says softly, removing his hand from her core. He places it on her bum instead, lightly massaging one of her cheeks. “Daddy’s not mad at you, princess. But you still have to be punished, do you understand?” When Y/N nods he smiles. “Good girl. I want you to count for me, okay?”
“Yes Daddy,” Y/N responds, getting comfortable in Fred’s lap. A squeak leaves her mouth as Fred lands the first slap to her ass. “One,” she counts breathily. Before she has a chance to recover from the first hit, Fred is landing another hit to her cheek causing her to moan. “Two.”
Fred smirks down at the writhing mess Y/N has turned into after her first 15 spanks. Her right bum cheek is bright red, and Fred resists his urge to lean down to kiss it. “Are you doing alright, Princess? Can you take 15 more?” Fred asks quietly, reaching up to stroke Y/N’s hair. As much as he loves being rough with her, he never wants to hurt her or make her uncomfortable in any way. He’s rock hard in his trousers already, and he wants to make sure she’s getting as much pleasure from this as he is.
“Yes, Daddy. Need more. ‘M a naughty girl, I need to be punished,” she responds desperately. Y/N is soaking wet and her stomach is a pool of arousal. A few tears have snuck out of her eyes from how turned on she is, and she’s basking in the warmth left behind on her bum from Fred’s hand.
“Good girl,” Fred praises, leaning down to press a few kisses to Y/N’s shoulder. “You can use your safe word at any time, you know that right?” When Y/N nods he presses another kiss to her shoulder and starts to massage the bum cheek he hasn’t hit yet. “Count for me again, princess, okay?”
Y/N nods, letting out a moan a Fred lands the first hit to her cheek. “One,” she whines, lifting her hips up to encourage him to spank her again. Fred suddenly lands three hits in a row, causing a few more tears to leak out of her eyes as she moans. “Two, three, four,” she stutters out.
By the time Fred lands the last hit to her ass, Y/N is desperate for release. She’s slowly moving her hips forward, desperate for any kind of friction against her clit. “Daddy please,” she begs.
“Look at my desperate little baby,” he coos, moving Y/N’s hair out of her face so he can see the desperation on it. “Such a good girl you were, princess. Such a good girl for Daddy. C’mere let me kiss you.”
Fred helps Y/N straddle his waist and tucks a few stray hairs behind her ear. He kisses her deeply, his tongue immediately licking into her mouth. Y/N moans into the kiss, rolling her hips against the rough fabric of Fred’s trousers. Fred groans at the contact on his clothed cock, his hips rolling up to meet hers. “God, so fucking desperate for it aren’t you, princess?” he asks as his lips start to trail kisses down her neck.
Y/N nods, tipping her head back to give Fred more room to kiss. “Need you so bad, Daddy. Missed your cock. That’s what I was thinkin’ about in all those photos. Thinkin’ about how much I love your cock and how good it feels inside of me.”
Fred groans into Y/N’s neck and pulls away so he can look at her. “That’s so fucking hot, princess. Imagining you lying in bed, touching yourself and thinking of me.” Fred kisses Y/N again. “Go on and show Daddy how you touch yourself, princess. Get in bed and pleasure yourself for me.”
Y/N crawls off of Fred’s lap and onto the bed, settling down in the middle of it. One of her hands starts to pinch and twist her nipple, while the other runs down her body and settles at her core. She watches as Fred stands up and starts to undress himself, her index finger starting to rub small circles on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she moans, tilting her head back.
Once Fred is fully nude he kneels on the bed next to Y/N’s head and takes himself in his hand. He starts to slowly stroke his cock, his eyes crawling over every inch of Y/N’s body. There’s a flush that creeps up her chest, over her neck and to her cheeks and her hips are slowly rocking as she teases her clit.
“So pretty, princess. You look so pretty touching yourself for Daddy,” Fred praises.
Y/N turns her head to look at Fred as she feels her orgasm approaching. She opens her mouth, silently asking Fred to let her suck him off. When he doesn’t immediately give in, she whines. “Please let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please.”
Fred reaches down with his free hand to cup Y/N’s cheek. “Fucking hell you’re desperate for it princess.” He pushes his hips forward just enough so Y/N can wrap her lips around the head of his cock.
Y/N whines around Fred’s cock, her head starting to move up and down. She lets her tongue wrap around the head on each pull back, wanting Fred to release into her mouth. When he starts to slowly fuck his hips forward she hums around him in encouragement. As her climax builds she starts to rub harder circles on her clit, desperate for release.
“Fuck princess, gonna make Daddy come,” Fred moans, his eyes watching his cock disappear into her mouth.
Y/N’s eyes flutter shut as she reaches her orgasm, her whole body trembling. She moans around Fred’s cock as pleasure flows through her, causing him to suddenly release into her mouth. Her motions on her clit slow down as Fred’s cock twitches in her mouth and she swallows his release. As Fred slowly pulls his cock out of her mouth Y/N stops her movement on her clit, bringing her hand up to clean off her finger.
“Holy fuck,” Fred pants, watching Y/N’s lips wrap around her finger. “You are so fucking amazing,” he says in awe. Fred’s cock which hadn’t even gone fully soft starts to harden again as Y/N looks up at him. “Look at what you do to Daddy, princess. His cock is already hard for you again.”
Y/N smiles as she gets up to her knees. She wraps one hand around his cock and starts to slowly stroke it, while her other goes to his neck so she can pull their lips together. Fred’s mouth immediately overpowers hers, and he forces his tongue into her mouth. Fred is fully hard in Y/N’s hand now, and as they kiss he maneuvers them so he’s sitting with his back up against the wall, and Y/N is sitting in his lap.
“Need your cock Daddy,” Y/N whines, pulling her mouth away from Fred’s. “Fuck me Daddy, please.”
Fred chuckles, his hands falling onto Y/N’s hips. “Go on then, princess. Fuck yourself on my cock since you’re so desperate for it.” Fred suppresses a groan as Y/N grinds down against him. Fred and Y/N have tried nearly every sexual position either of them could think of, and they both know that being on top is low on Y/N’s list of favorites; she much prefers it when Fred holds her down and fucks her into the mattress.
“Daddy,” she pouts, grinding down against him again.
Fred narrows his eyes at her and resists his urge to kiss her. “Princess,” he warns. “If you wanna be a desperate cock slut, then be a desperate cock slut and fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Maybe if you’re a good girl and you come on Daddy’s cock he’ll give you what you want.”
Y/N perks up at that, and she leans forward to kiss Fred slowly as she rises to her knees. One of her hands’ rests on his shoulder, while the other reaches back to grasp the base of his cock.
Fred breaks their kiss so he can watch as Y/N lines him up with her entrance. Y/N whines as she sinks down, her eyes fluttering shut at how full she feels. She sinks down until their hips meet and Fred is fully inside of her.
“Fuck you’re tight, princess. Always so tight for Daddy,” he praises. He groans as Y/N starts to roll her hips, his grip on her tightening. “Go on, baby,” he encourages. “Get yourself off on my cock.”
“Oh,” Y/N moans, her hands gripping Fred’s shoulders tightly. She starts to slowly pick herself up, stopping when Fred is only halfway inside her, before she slams herself back down. “So good, Daddy,” she pants.
Y/N fucks herself on Fred’s cock like that for a few minutes, growing frustrated when she fails to hit the spot inside of her that will bring her to her orgasm. “Daddy please,” she whines.
“Come on, princess. You know how to fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Come around Daddy’s cock and he’ll give you what you want,” he encourages.
Y/N leans back, placing a hand on each of Fred’s thighs and uses the leverage to lift herself up. “Oh fuck,” she gasps as she sinks back down, the tip of Fred’s cock finally brushing her sweet spot.
“You look so pretty, princess. Getting yourself off on my cock,” Fred praises, helping Y/N to lift her hips off of him. “Such a good girl.”
Y/N moans as she fucks herself on Fred’s cock, already feeling her orgasm approaching. She starts to move her hips desperately, searching for her release. “So close, Daddy. Touch me Daddy please,” she pleads.
Fred smirks before he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Come on, Princess, come on Daddy’s cock,” he encourages, one of his hands leaving her hip so he can rub circles on her clit.
With one more downwards movement of her hips Y/N’s walls tighten around Fred as she comes, her body shaking as her orgasm rolls through her. “That’s it, princess. Such a good girl,” Fred coos quietly, his thumb slowing its motion and his hips rocking slightly to help her through her orgasm.
Fred kisses Y/N slowly as her breathing starts to return to normal. She shifts around on his cock as their lips move together and it takes everything in Fred to not come right there. “You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, princess. Doing so well,” he says, breaking their kiss. “Can you take more, baby? D’you want Daddy to fuck you into the mattress?” Fred pecks Y/N’s lips. “It’s okay if you don’t baby. Daddy just wants to take care of you.”
“Want you to come inside me Daddy,” Y/N tells him, looking into Fred’s eyes. “Want you to pin me down and fuck me into the mattress.”
Fred doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Y/N hard and flips them over so her back is on the bed and he’s hovering over her. He throws both of her legs over his shoulders, pinning her to the mattress with his hips. He braces himself with one hand as his other comes up to grip Y/N’s throat and he pulls all the way out before he slams back into her.
“Oh fuck, Daddy,” Y/N moans as Fred starts to fuck into her relentlessly. The tip of his cock is brushing the spot inside of her and she’s already so sensitive from her previous two orgasms, and with the way Fred is gripping the side of her neck she knows she won’t last long.
“God, princess,” Fred grunts as Y/N’s walls clench around him. “Such a good pussy. You always feel go good wrapped around Daddy.” Fred lands a particularly hard slam as Y/N moves to touch herself. “Hands off, princess. Want you to come just from my cock. Can you do that for Daddy?”
Y/N nods, too busy moaning and whining to answer Fred verbally. Her body feels like it’s on fire, her toes curling and her back arching as she reaches her climax. “Daddy,” she moans lowly, as she comes around Fred’s cock, a few stray tears falling from the corners of her eyes.
“Fuck princess,” Fred moans. Y/N’s walls tighten and twitch around him, bringing him to his own release. His hips still as he empties himself inside of her and he crashes their lips together. Fred slows their kiss down as they both recover, unable to stop the smirk that forms on his mouth when Y/N whines as he slowly pulls out of her. Fred collapses on the bed next to Y/N and she immediately cuddles into his side as he wraps his arm around her.
“I love you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.
Fred turns his head so he can kiss her properly, not pulling away until they both need to breathe. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says softly. “Are you alright? Did I go too far?”
Y/N shakes her head, chuckling at Fred’s concern. “Not at all, love. It was incredible.” She pauses so she can press a kiss to his neck. “I’m glad I have the next few days off, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”
Fred laughs and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Good thing I have you all to myself because I have quite a few plans for us.”
Y/N looks up at him, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yeah? What might those be?”
“Let’s just say our cameras are definitely going to need more film when I’m done with you.”
#fred weasley#Fred Weasley imagine#Fred Weasley smut#Fred Weasley fic#Fred Weasley x reader#Fred Weasley fanfiction#fred weasley x y/n#fw#golden
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Slippery When Wet: Part 2
Summary: An untimely accident in the shower leaves you injured and in need of rescue. Lucky for you, the object of your affections is more than willing to help.
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader
TW: swearing, nudity, implied sexual content, description of injury (nothing graphic), unintentional voyeurism? (idk i mean like voyeurism in the name of helping i’m not sure how to say it ha), lots of dick talk, prolly really bad sex jokes
Link to A03 here
PART 1 HERE
A/N: First of all, THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO READ, LIKED, REBLOGGED AND COMMENTED ON PART 1. You are all amazing, I am so glad you are enjoying this silly little venture Gojo has dragged me on. Again, thank you so much to @ghost-party for her beta skills, you da best! I hope Part 2 makes you all happy :) please enjoy, sweet potatoes!
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You shouldn’t look. Not because you don’t want to, but if you do you’ll know what is absolutely not warming your bed at night and then you’ll probably just feel worse. But, you were overwhelmingly curious. Just a quick look couldn’t hurt.
Right?
You peek through your fingers, just at his upper half. The sight makes you curse softly under your breath. Of course he’s absolutely beautiful out of clothes, did you really expect anything less?
“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll get dressed,” he says, “just thought this would help you out.”
Help you out? Good grief this is going to be the star of your late night fantasies for months. Because instead of dreaming it up, you now have the real thing to recall.
“No,” you take a deep breath and drop your hands. “I’m fine.”
Are you though? He’s built to perfection, checking off all the boxes on your “Things I find physically attractive” checklist. You marvel at this long column of his throat, sweeping down into a set of collarbones that would make models die of envy. His chest is hairless (did he wax or was it just naturally that way?), miles of smooth skin and muscle that your fingers were just itching to trace.
Your eyes trail down past his stomach, briefly cataloging the very nice set of abs, before settling on what you were the most curious about.
The snort of laughter escapes your lips before you can stop it.
“Excuse me, did you just look at my dick and laugh?” He asks accusingly, crossing his arms.
“I’m sorry,” you giggle at the disgruntled expression on his face. “It’s just, I’ve always wondered if the carpet matched the drapes since I assumed you dye your hair. Guess I was wrong.”
For the first time since you’ve known him, Gojo Satoru visibly deflates.
“That’s what you’ve thought about?” His voice is full of frustrated disbelief. “My pubic hair?”
You can’t stop giggling. “You can’t blame a girl for being curious! Are you sure you shouldn’t get rid of it though? Doesn’t the white make people think they’re boning an old man?”
“The utter disrespect,” he gasps, shaking his head. “I can assure you that is the last thing on their minds when I’m working my magic.”
You wonder why you aren’t feeling more flustered. The fun and teasing atmosphere feels almost refreshing after the intense back and forth that was just occurring.
“What, you casting spells for dry weather?”
“Oh, you are evil!” He moans, then looks down at himself. “Don’t listen to her, big guy. You know what you can do.”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t talk to it,” you roll your eyes, trying not to grin. “And don’t oversell the merchandise. It’s average, at best.”
(It isn’t. It’s probably the nicest looking one you’ve ever seen. But him and his astronomical ego do not need to know that)
Gojo grabs his chest as if you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch! Shots fired, target annihilated!”
“You’re such a drama queen,” you sigh. You wonder if he notices the quiet fondness in your voice.
He opens his mouth as if to retaliate, but then suddenly shuts it. A look comes over his face as if he’s just remembered something very interesting and important.
“Hey,” he says, and you watch his mouth spread into a smile. “You said you’d wondered if the carpet matched the drapes. That means you definitely imagined me naked at least once.”
And your blush is back.
“What of it?” You huff, cross your arms and looking away. “It’s only natural. I’ve thought of lots of people naked.”
“Do you ever imagine sleeping with me?”
The question causes you to choke on your breath.
“What-why would you ask that?”
“Inquiring minds want to know.”
You take a look at him, standing naked and unashamed in front of you. His smile is different; there’s a sultry edge to it you’ve never seen before.
“Maybe inquiring minds should stuff it,” you stick out your tongue. Immature, but he’s got you feeling all funny now.
“Well, I’ve thought about it,” he says. “I’ve thought about it quite a lot, actually.”
Your heart misses a beat in your chest.
“You have?” Your voice squeaks as you force the words out.
“Why do you sound so surprised?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious puppy.
You consider the question. You’ve got insecurities, but you know you are a decent looking person. And despite his flightiness about many things, Gojo has actually never given you the impression that he’s shallow in that way.
“I don’t know,” you say truthfully. “I guess I just never considered the possibility that you were interested in me in that way.”
He sighs. “Pumpkin, I’m not blind. You are stupidly attractive. Every time we’re out in Tokyo you’ve got a million guys and gals staring at you.”
“I just always assumed they were staring at your and your stupid blindfold,” you scrub at your cheeks with your palms, trying to rid yourself of some of the perplexing confusion you feel swirling inside you. “How come you’ve never made a move?”
“Would you have wanted me to?”
You want to shout at him, to say of course yes a thousand times yes, but you pause. You realize you’ve never given him any signals, any hint that he was more than just your often annoying friend. Sure, you blushed at his silly flirting, but so did lots of people.
You shift back through your interactions, all the missions, the late night hang outs, the strolls through the city. Nowhere can you find any instant where your ever expanding feelings might have risen to the surface. But still, would your seeming indifference deter him? He was a very self assured man, after all.
“You have confidence coming out your ass, it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t make a move anyways, just to see,” you say instead.
His whole demeanor softens. “I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”
Oh.
OH.
And you know exactly what he means. It’s why you’ve never said anything, why you forced your desires deep down into the pit of your being when in his presence.
It seems even the strongest shaman could be afraid of something.
“It’s not just about fucking, is it?” You ask, feeling your whole body start to tremble.
“It was never just about fucking,” he replies, and it’s like the universe explodes before your very eyes. “Why do you think I spend all my free time with you?”
“To annoy me?” You croak feebly. “To eat all my snacks? To enjoy torturing me by spoiling the end to every movie we watch?”
He chuckles. “Just side bonuses. Being with you is the real prize, pumpkin.”
“Oh,” you whisper, and your brain whirs like an overworked laptop. You’re having trouble processing that this is actually happening, that the man you’ve been pining after for what feels like forever is really standing there, confessing his own feelings.
Buck ass naked.
“You’ve got two options right now,” Gojo takes a step closer to you, and you shiver at the dominant aura that suddenly swirls around him. “Either I get dressed and we put today behind us, or I come over there and kiss you until you can’t remember your own name. Make your choice.”
Was there even a choice? There was only one option. A slow, warm feeling blooms in the middle of your chest and spreads outwards, dousing your whole shaking body in molten yearning. It’s not a new feeling, but the sensations are different. Because now you can give in to it.
“Kiss me,” you blurt out, breathless and giddy. “Get the fuck over here and kiss me.”
He doesn’t have to be told twice.
A flash of a savage grin, the soft thump of footsteps and then you are numb to everything but him.
He tastes like sugary coffee and chapstick, lips hard and hot against yours as he kisses you like he’ll die if he stops. He’s everywhere at once, in all your senses, drowning you in his onslaught of desirous fervour. It’s not a timid kiss of new sweethearts; it’s a passionate embrace of long overdue lovers.
Your hands run over every inch of him they can reach, mapping the ridges and valleys of his exposed skin. His own slip beneath your shirt to spread across your back, crushing you to him with a grip of iron. It’s not enough; you want them everywhere, you want him everywhere, until he’s branded onto your body. Until you no longer know where you end and he begins. Until he’s sunken himself into your very bones.
You need to breathe- you pull away with a gasp, one gossamer thread of saliva lazily trailing after you.
“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” You pant, digging your nails into his arms. He’s unwilling to keep his mouth off you, now pressing scalding kisses along your jaw.
“Blame it on mutual stupidity,” he sighs into your skin, teeth slightly grazing the spot just below your ear. “Let’s make up for lost time, eh?”
“I’m game,” you say, a soft whine leaving your lips as he works steadily on what is sure to become a bruise.
“Good,” he murmurs, swiping his tongue across the blossoming mark before leaning back to smirk at you. “Have to make you take back all your snarky comments about me and my game.”
You giggle. “Oh, so you’re saying it won’t be as dry as a desert ‘round here?”
“Well let me just check tonight’s weather report,” he laughs, grinning cheekily as he slips a hand down between your legs, brushing gently over the front of your underwear. You bite your lip, grip on his biceps tightening.
“Ladies and gentleman, we’re in for a wet night,” he says in what you assume is his best weatherman voice. “Expect a great deal of precipitation, more so than what’s already accumulated. Perhaps we’ll even see some flooding. We’re talking possibly record setting levels here.”
You snort with laughter, pushing at him slightly. “You are such an idiot. Just shut up and put your money where your mouth is.”
“Oh, I intend to put my mouth in a lot of different places,” he removes his hand, snapping the elastic band of your underwear against your hip as he goes. “I know I just got you into these, but shall I undress you now?”
“Yes please,” you nod eagerly, already wiggling out of your shirt. He quickly helps remove the offending garment, but in all the lust and excitement you’ve forgotten about your shoulder, and you moan in pain when you jostle it.
“Owwwwwwie, stupid shoulder!”
“Shhh, pumpkin,” Gojo coos gently, leaning down to pepper the area with kisses. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m going to take such good care of you.”
You feel yourself melt at the sudden tender display, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his luscious hair as he continues to smother your bruised shoulder in affection. “You already are, Satoru.”
The first name slips out unexpectedly, but you like the way it rolls off your tongue. He seems to as well, judging by the pleased noise that rumbles from his chest.
“Well, allow me to continue then,” he purrs, and his lips leave your shoulder to capture yours in another toe curling kiss. You press yourself to him, the feel of his bare skin against yours sending a thrill shooting down your spine.
An idea suddenly pops into your head.
“I never got to finish my shower,” you break your kiss to speak, looking up at him under your lashes.
He catches on immediately, his smile once again turning primal. It makes your knees weak and your gut clench in anticipation.
“Maybe you should help me, since I’m injured and all,” you push yourself even closer to him, shivering at the feeling of his not-so-average excitement pressing against your belly.
“Hmmmm, I could do that,” he’s already got his fingers hooked in your underwear, slowly starting to push them down your hips. “But what if you slip again?”
“Well, you’ll just have to catch me then,” you wink at him. “With your dick.”
He roars with laughter, and your heart has never been more full.
“Oh, I’ll do more than just catch you, pumpkin,” he growls playfully, and before you can blink he’s rid you of your bottoms and swept you up into his arms. “I’m going to absolutely wreck you.”
You reach up to kiss him as he pounds towards the bathroom, your blood on fire and only one thought in your head.
Bless that stupid, slippery, wonderful bar of soap.
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Taglist: @satorudicks @sara-nyaa @dixonsbugaboo @fandomtrash100 @oikusa-snow @okemis @kuxredere @mylittleteddybear @the-fandoms-georgie @inaflashimagine @crapimahuman @elenapri0502 @fragments-of-aria @bollywoodghoul @wrdro @kiasnotforever @disregardedbymybias @lavihs @euniartsu @satjsstuff @lycorizzz @fushigurosimp @levisbrat1 @bxstboy-tetsu @one-leaf-grimoire @glxar (sorry i just tagged everyone who asked and commented haha, bold means I couldn’t tag you sorry!)
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru imagine#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagine#gojo satoru fic#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen fic#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jjk gojo#jjk gojo satoru#jjk anime#my writing
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Pairing: tall! & sub! Reader x dom! OT7 BTS
Gender of the Reader: male
Word Count: 2.3k
Rating: 18+
Genre: Smut/PwP
Warnings: Dirty Language + Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Dynamics; accidental overhearing of a phone call, Mentions of Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Mentions of Sex Toys & Masturbation; slightly mentioned Double Penetration; mentions of Anal play; Praising; Petnames; some Degradation; Daddy-Kink; Teasing; slight Edging; the boys are teasing the poor reader to Death
A/N: Well- that was a quick writing. Instead of studying I decided to write this funny request and to use my procrastination in a better way than scrolling stressed through TikTok. I hope y’all like it!!
Status: unedited bc I am lazy and should study.
Request: i want to request a drabble/one shot: sub taller male reader and his seven boyfriends in which he confidently talks naughty things with his friend on phone but when he realized his bf are watching, he became crazily shy because he is just a big cute boy, then his bf decided they want to test those ‘words’ he has said, poor boy =))
Requested by: anonymous
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「© tipsydipsydo」
This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!
I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!
That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.
Thank you.
After too many and super busy weeks full of work, you’ve finally managed to find a free afternoon in your schedule where your best friend and you have enough time for a nice, long telephone call on the couch. You are already over one and a half hour on the phone, exchanging the newest stuff that happened in your life with each other and joking around. Slowly your conversation turns their focus to your more private life and your bestie asks you about your polyamorous relationship with your boyfriends. At first just normal things like, how’s it going in general, how you all manage the relationship with all the different time schedules, how often it comes to fights and how you deal with that etc. Just normal stuff and the ‘typical’ questions you’re already used to, when people realize that you’re not in a monogamous relationship.
Your best friend and you grew up together. You met each other in elementary school, went through the curses of puberty as an inseparable team and even survived middle and high school thanks to the other one. Already in your teens, where both of you made your first experiences and got into your first relationships, your best friend had a guess that you’re not as straight as you want him to believe. No, they even assumed that you’re maybe not made for the typical monogamous relationship which the society preach every fucking day.
Well, turns out that your best friend really knew you better than you did yourself back then but honestly, nowadays you’re thankful for their suggestions and that they gave you the save space you needed to dare to make new experiences in those directions.
Nevertheless, they were still more than surprised when you introduced him to not only two or three boyfriends, no that you brought seven (!) other men to their birthday party two years ago. At first they were a little worried if you didn’t overload yourself with such a complex relationship dynamic and that it’ll turn out as a serious burden and not an enrichment for your life. Turns out, now it was their turn to make a false assumption about what’s the best for you and theu were more than happy to admit that everything turned out just fine. It truly makes their heart swell to hear the happiness in your voice through the phone everything you mention something about the boys.
Quickly your phone call turn into an even more private talk and dedicate itself to the really interesting stuff. You’re sharing every detail in your life with another, so why should it stop when it comes to sex talk? You have absolutely no problem and any shame to talk freely with your best friend about your kinks and dirty thoughts. Sometimes you even think that you’re better informed about each other’s preferences better than your actual partner(s) are.
“I think, I already told you that idea more than once... that I have a thing for exhibitionism and the thought of getting catched doing something ‘forbitten’ or ‘dirty’, right? Uhm... TMI but I don’t give a shit, whenever I am alone at home because they’re busy and we can’t meet for some days... I mastubate with some of the toys they’ve bought for me and imagine that they catch me. You know, when we have sessions with Dom and Sub Dynamics, they’re only temporarily and usually we go back to normal in the moment when the scene is over... that means, when I am alone and horny, I can do whatever I want to. I can jack off or fuck myself as much I desire and they wouldn’t say anything about it. It’s not like, I don’t appreciate my personal freedom when it comes to masturbation or that I want something completely different, no! We both already talked about that too, I don’t like the idea of Total Power Exchange, I prefer to be an independent person as soon as I walk out of the bedroom- okay, not only bedroom, we have sex in other places than the bedroom too- ANYWAY, what I wanted to say with that: ...”, you mutter and take a deep breath into your lungs.
After holding such a long monologue your mouth dried up terribly and now you need quickly something to drink. You get up from the couch and walk over to the kitchen island to pour some soda into a glass. A satisfied hum leaves your throat after you took some gulps of your favourite sparkling sugar bomb.
The whole time, where you moved around in the eat-in kitchen of the apartment, you are not that alone anymore as you thought you’d be, especially right in this moment. Namjoon, Hoseok and a boyish smirking Jimin joined you around ten minutes ago, leaning casually against the wall next to the door of the room and listen very interested to the conversation you have with your friend right now. They didn’t mean to overhear your private talk, they just wanted to know what kind of take-out food you’d prefer for tonight.
Unfortunately your conversation turned out to be very, very interesting for them, so they decided to give you some more time to talk with your best friend about the sexual fantasies you have which they don’t know about... well, until now.
Hoseok texted the other boys in the group chat to join them in the living room as well, they need to hear those very important information too!
Poor you, completely oblivious and naïve to what’s happening in this moment, not getting any kind of hint that not only your best friend would get those significant informations...
“...-what I actually wanted to say with that: I prefer to be independent in relation to all other non-sexual life-responsibilities. Well, that doesn’t mean we couldn’t increase the Erotic Power Exchange, right? To be very honest, I can’t get the fantasy of them taking my sextoys away and to forbid me to touch myself without their permission out of my head. I love to be their good boy and to get praises, I really do... but there is this thrill to be break the instructed rules, getting caught while doing it and getting punished for it. I want... I want to get called bad, filthy and dirty names, I want to be a disobedient, greedy and insatiable slut for them. I want to get spanked, edged and overstimulated, I want to get fucked into the mattress so bad, up to the point where I can’t get a single clear thought together and my brain turned to mush... I want to get used, ruined and wrecked by their cocks, getting my holes stuffed full with their cum and then plugged up, so nothing can run out anymore- God fuck, I should stop talking like that or I’ll get a serious problem! Well... sorry for so much detailed TMI, you know that this shit always happens when you tell me to stop overthinking and encourage me to spill everything that comes to my mind. Now you got every filthy detail you’ve asked for, you’re welcome.”, you joke sarcastically and facepalm yourself. You can’t believe how incredibly blunt and shameless you just threw your latest sex fantasy in every fucking detail at your poor best friend.
Usually you’re more than shy to talk about such things, in your understanding the magic for your shameless mouth towards your best friend has to reside in the deep thrust you have in him and simply the knowledge that your relationship is platonic. It’s not like that you couldn’t trust your boyfriends wholeheartedly, god no! You know, that they would never kinkshame you for anything,
it’s just... after sharing those thoughts it would result something out of it. You don’t want that they think you’re a weirdo or that they only do specific things because they know it would turn you on.
The other one just snorts in amusement when you voice this slight helpless apology, they can imagine the significant blush which has settled down on your cheeks.
“Hey buddy, don’t apologize for that. There is nothing to apologizing for, I am way too curious for my own good as well and I need to make sure that you’re happy in your relationship, especially when it comes to the point if they are able to fulfill your sexual desires. I need to know that, believe me. Okay, there’s one thing... I knew you were submissive, my dude. But I didn’t expect that you’d be such a masochistic hoe and that you’d have such a thing for degradation, Jesus! Nevermind, more important: did you talked with them about that fantasy? Would they be down for this idea and would they like to be more in charge? Please do not tell me that you’re too shy to talk with them about it, not again! I tell you this every goddamn time, communication is key!”, your best friend says to you in a serious tone.
Here you go again, getting scolded by your friend all over again. He is right, you know that... y’all already talked about ‘how to deal with certain kinks some of them or you have but the others aren’t into and how to not make them feel bad or insecure about it’ several times, you tend to overthink everything you have ever said to them all over again. You are always so flustered when seven pairs of eyes are looking at you, waiting for an answer. You are tall, even taller than Namjoon, but under their curious stares you feel always so small, fiddling with your fingers around like a little schoolboy. You love that about them, putting you into such a submissive place just with their aura and charisma and giving you the feeling as if they overtower you physically too.
“I can absolutely agree with Y/BF/N, communication is key. Why didn’t you told us those nasty fantasies you have in your cute head up here, right away? Too shy again? Do we really need to call your best friend the next time to get some hints to your secret kinks, Babyboy?”, Taehyung rasps into your earshell and wraps his arms around you. He chuckles slightly as you squeak high-pitched in surprise.
An equal surprised yelp of your best friend comes out of the speaker of your phone which takes Yoongi out of your hand and excuse you with the apology that ‘they need to have an important talk with you now and that you have to hang up unfortunately’.
The display of your phone turns dark and Yoongi puts it on the surface of the kitchen island before he flashes you a dirty smile. That you’re mortified that they caught you spilling all those filthy fantasies to your best friend is the understatement of the century. Never and you mean never did you hoped so bad that the floor opens up and swallows you whole, saving you from this embarrassing misery. But Yoongi give you much time to drown in shame, coming up to you and connect your lips to a rough kiss.
“God, I love it when our so sweet and shy Baby has such nasty and indecent fantasies in his head... why don’t you tell us these ideas in every single filthy detail once again? I think we could turn the information into some very good use, big boy~”, whispers the smaller one with blown-out eyes against your lips.
“...or would you prefer that we call you a needy cumslut, hm? The things I’ve heard give me the assumption that you want to get fucked stupid and pumped full with cum as if you are our personal playtoy?”, growls Jungkook and grabs himself a handful of your right asscheek, kneading it with a firm grip in his big palm.
“Come on, big boy, admit that you want exactly the things Jungkook just said... I can feel how fucking hard you just got from his words... already so hard and swollen against my palm even though we barely touched you. You’re truly such a pathetic, needy slut... I bet you’d already cum in your pants if we just tease you enough... Am I right?”, chuckles Namjoon in his deep, arousal soaked timbre against your neck, nibbling at the sensitive spot of your Adam’s apple.
“...what about we change our location to the bedroom and talk about the things you’ve said to Y/BF/N? Maybe we could try some of your newest kinks out? Would you like the thought of us watching you from the couch while you prepare your needy asshole for us? Showing us how you stuff you clenching rim with a girthy dildo? Wearing a cockring so you couldn’t cum without our permission? Prepping yourself all messy, whining for our finger, tongues and dicks in your ass like the greedy slut you are? Yeah, you’d love that thought.”, Seokjin teases you mercilessly, rolling your sensitive balls in his palm, just how you like it.
“Y-Yes, Daddies... I’d love to be a greedy cumslut for you... please turn me into one!”, you wisper.
@cys-mental-escapades; @bangtanloverboys; @btsxmalereaders
#kpop bts#kpop bts ot7#bts ot7#bts smut#bts imagines#bts jung hoseok#bts x reader#kpop smut#bts scenarios#kpop x male reader#bts x male reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#bts x tall reader#jimin x male reader#namjoon x reader#tall sub reader#dom! bts#sub! reader#requested#by tipsydipsydo
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making things right
you and iwaizumi just aren't meant to be, and if he has to fuck some sense into your little brain for you to understand, then so be it.
wc: 2.8k
tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): noncon, explicit n*fw, blackmail, emotional manipulation, emotional sadism, dumbification, degradation, fem!reader with inner genitals, has something resembling an actual plot
a/n: i couldn't decide which way i wanted to go with the plot, so i just did both. read a darker version of this here
i don't want minors interacting with my content
Oikawa really doesn’t like how much time Iwaizumi has been spending around you lately.
It’s not that he’s jealous, of course - that kind of pettiness is far beneath him - it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not the natural order of things for someone as pretty as you, all soft skin and glowing smiles, to be practically draped around Iwaizumi all the fucking time.
He’s counted, you know, and today was the thirty-eighth time that you’ve visited their lunch table and somehow ended up on Iwaizumi’s lap.
And doesn’t he also have to think of his team? The Spring Interhigh’s coming up, and it wouldn’t do for one of the most important players on the team to be constantly distracted. He’s seen the way Iwaizumi looks at you: it’s adoration encapsulated in a gaze, the kind of tenderness and admiration that he’s only ever seen Iwaizumi direct at himself.
Oikawa’s going to have to fix this, isn’t he? He’s going to have to make everything the way it should be.
-
He finds that he enjoys the constant planning and brainstorming and especially the fantasizing far more than he’d anticipated.
Oikawa notes down which days you go home immediately after school, which days you stay, and the routes you take home. He writes down all your friends in a little notebook, familiarizes himself with the classes you take, and pays extra attention to your mood swings.
Of course, as he spends more and more time detailing every aspect of your life, it’s only natural for his thoughts to… wander. In class, he catches his own attention drifting away from Japanese literature to thoughts of what you’d look like strung out on his cock, eyes squeezing out tears as he stuffs you full and claims your pussy. He thinks about how slutty your skirt looks when you’re bending over, and about how much he’d like to rip it off of you. He likes to imagine how Iwaizumi would react, too - the way he’d cry and sob and finally understand that you don’t belong with someone like him.
He finds that these thoughts allow him to tolerate Iwaizumi’s presence near you a lot better, even though the two of you have only grown closer as of late. When you start getting particularly obnoxious with your flirting, he just has to picture you screaming in pain as he fucks you dry, or think about the bulge in your throat from his cock shoved deep inside your mouth. And when he sees Iwaizumi finally ask you out on a date to the ramen place nearby, he almost feels sorry for how short-lived, how temporary, your romance is going to be.
As the weeks go by and the Interhigh draws near, Oikawa thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of how to make it happen.
It starts off almost too easy.
Oikawa’s usually the one who stays late after practice, slamming his serves into the opposite end of the court until his vision goes dizzy and his arms turn numb. But Iwaizumi - bless his generosity - had planned on staying after to help a few of the first years out with their serves.
He waits at the school gates, scanning the entrance for any sign of you. You should be finishing up with your little club soon if the notes he’d been keeping were any indication, and sure enough, he spots your bright teal jacket scurrying towards the gates after just a few minutes.
Oikawa plasters on his friendliest smile, waving you towards him. “Hey,” he greets. “Iwa-chan told me to wait for you today. Do you want to come over? He’ll be along in just a minute - he’s just cleaning up the gym a bit.”
“Aren’t you the captain?” you tease. “So much for being responsible.”
He forces out a laugh. Do you realize how insufferable you are? Because you’re really not doing yourself any favors with the way you’re acting. But he pushes down the surge of anger that threatens to spill over, because he knows you’ll change your tune as soon as you arrive at his place.
He can’t wait.
The walk home is filled with empty banter, useless conversation that flits back and forth on the most boring of topics. To be honest, Oikawa appreciates this - it gives him the mental room to think about much more interesting things, like the way your breasts are pushing against the jacket, or the slight sheen of your lip gloss. Or, alternatively, the way your breasts would look spilling out of his hands, and the way your shiny lips would look smeared with spit and cum.
He places a hand on your waist as he guides you inside his house, but you stiffen. “Isn’t Hajime supposed to have caught up to us by now?” you ask.
Hajime.
First name basis, huh?
It’s a small detail, but it’s the kind of change that has him seeing red at the periphery of his vision, the kind that makes him want to ruin your slutty body until it's bruised and leaking cum. He’s been friends with Iwaizumi for twelve years. Twelve years, and all he’s gotten from him is a nickname. You’ve known him for barely a fucking year, and here you are, sauntering away with his first name.
His hand on your waist tightens, gripping and squeezing at your lovely flesh until he can feel you wince in pain. “I’m afraid it might be a while,” he says, voice brittle.
“What do you mean?” you ask, turning around, your eyes widening.
Oikawa shoves you inside and slams the door. “I mean,” he hisses. “That your precious Hajime won’t be coming around anytime soon.”
Panic rises in your throat, but he slaps a hand over your mouth quicker than you can scream. All that escapes is a strangled cry, weak and thin, one that quickly dies out in the entrance hall of his house. It’s much too quiet to reach any neighbors, you realize with a sinking feeling. The last bit of faint hope you harbor in the back of your mind dies when you realize that there’s no concerned housewife coming to check on the commotion, no fumbling child who might stumble in on you and Oikawa. You’re alone. You’re fucked.
He’d made sure of it.
“Bitches like you are so stupid, aren’t you? Making me spell everything out for you.” His voice drips condescension as he yanks you by the hair towards the bedroom. There’s no reason to put up an act anymore, he thinks, so he can be as rough as he wants with his new toy - he just has to make sure he returns you in one piece to Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s sure he won’t mind if you’re a little beat up around the edges, a little used by the end of this.
As he throws you down on the bed, the thought gives him immense satisfaction. You’d been so eager to do things with Iwaizumi - he’d coaxed out embarrassed confessions from his friend over late-night calls - so he’s almost sure that you’re a needy slut during sex.
Of course, you’re not nearly so eager now, not when he’s holding your squirming body down on the bed.
“You do realize that this is what you get, right? It’s your fault for being this fucking easy. Should’ve thought a bit harder about going home with me. Did your mommy and daddy never teach you to not trust men?” he says, face curling into a smile.
You’re unable to get a word out, mouth dry and cottony from the fear that pierces you. He watches your eyes flicker between the bulge in his pants and his face, uncertain and wary, like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa can’t help the sick pleasure that bubbles up within him at the look on your face.
“Please,” you say hoarsely. “Please.”
“You have to use your words, you know. You could be begging me to stop, but I think you like this. I think you’re begging me to get on with it,” he says.
Maybe he’s taking it a step too far with the dramatics, but he can’t bring himself to tone it down - not when he’s right about to get to the good bit, and certainly not when he sees those pretty tears trickling down your face.
He looks you up and down appraisingly. He’d always thought you were rather pretty, with your soft halo of hair and your glittering smile - but he can’t deny that there’s a special sort of charm in the way you fidget uncomfortably under his gaze.
It makes him hungry.
As he spreads your thighs apart, all he can think about is how much he wants to claim you, to ruin you, because that’s what he imagines fucking you is like: ownership and victory spread on his tongue while your juices drench his cock. All the filthy dreams he’s had, every fantasy he’s gotten off to late at night, and the stifling heat spreading through his core is begging him to fuck you, to ravish your tight hole until the only name you know is his own.
He doesn’t really want to bother with prep. He’s sure that stretching you out on three - no, maybe four fingers until you scream would be fun, but you don’t deserve that kind of special treatment. Aren’t sluts like you supposed to be wet all the time anyway?
You can feel the outline of his dick dragging along your soft thighs, pressing close to your cunt, a breathy moan escaping his lips from the friction of his sweatpants grinding against your body. It’s not long before he pulls his cock out all the way and strokes it a few times. He grabs at your hips, maneuvering you like a rag doll, and fits the tip of his cock at your fluttering entrance. Nudging at your hole, he pushes in just the head of his cock - enough so you can feel the sting of his girth, but not nearly deep enough to offer any real relief.
You whine involuntarily, and a grin lights up his face. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” he asks, dragging a thumb against your lips. “Is it because Iwa-chan doesn’t fuck you well enough? Is his pathetic dick too small to fill up that hole of yours properly?” he leers. “I’ve seen his cock before… mine’s bigger, you know.”
“Fuck you,” you mumble. You’re dizzy from the fear and panic that clouds your brain, but anger still seeps into your veins at his crude words.
Maybe if your head was a bit clearer, you would’ve realized that only stupid girls talk back.
Oikawa’s hips snap into yours harshly, his cock tearing at your insides, and you let out a strangled gasp. You’re not prepared for how well his cock stretches you out - it’s curved in all the right places, ramming into your cervix, brushing up against your tender g-spot - and as he ruthlessly pounds your frail body into the mattress, your mind blanks, overloaded with sensation. You can’t remember who you are, or why you’re getting fucked. The only thing on your mind is the raw feeling of being cunt split wide open, of having your insides rearranged until you’re a drooling, dumb mess.
“Fuck who?” he asks, shoving two fingers inside your sloppy mouth,
“F- fuck…” you whisper. His fingers are gripping at your hips so tightly you can feel the skin beginning to bruise, and there’s just too much to handle. He’s everywhere; his fingers probe around your mouth, making you gag, and his cock drags along your tender walls until you’re left quivering around his length.
He leans down to kiss at your forehead, his lips brushing tenderly against your hair. “You can do it, baby,” he encourages, cooing at you. “You can say it.”
“Fuck me,” you whimper quietly, cheeks burning with shame.
“Good girl,” he says, voice sickly sweet. “I knew you could do it for me.”
Fucking you feels so much better once you’re compliant, he thinks. He slows down a bit, savoring the sensation of your cunt twitching uselessly while you writhe on the bed in pleasure. He feels a sharp jolt of arousal as he looks at the marks he’s left all over you, admiring how the angry bruises on your hips and waist are beginning to purple.
You tug at his shirt, sniffling and crying. “Please,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re asking for anymore, not even sure whether you want Oikawa to stop or continue, but you can’t handle the way he’s slowly fucking you senseless.
He raises an eyebrow. “You want it faster?” he asks cruelly, bouncing you into his cock. There’s no response on your end, but Oikawa thinks he’ll take that as a yes. And if that’s what you want?
Well, that’s what you get.
The hum of pleasure in your core intensifies as he picks up speed again. This time, he angles his cock until it grinds down harshly on your sensitive spot, leaving your legs limp and body helpless as your cunt tightens like a vice. As you shudder from the orgasm that washes over you, he spills into your pussy until your hole is leaking white down your thighs.
You can feel him laughing softly as he pulls out and climbs to rest beside you, leaving you stuck in a pool of your own sweat and cum and. He wipes the remaining cum off of his cock, smearing it on your face, but you barely react. You feel so dirty, so tainted and violated, but you’re not sure you could move even if you tried - his cock has left you boneless and made sure that every square inch of your body is sore and aching.
“Well,” he says, breathless. “Better run home unless you want Iwa-chan to know you’ve been all used up.”
Hajime? Your eyes widen, welling up with tears.
Oikawa unlocks the phone in his hand and presses play.
The sounds that echo through the empty room make you feel like screaming, because there’s no denying the solid, tangible proof that’s being played back. Your breathy moans are clear as day, and it’s unmistakable when you hear yourself begging Oikawa to fuck you harder, faster, to split you apart on his cock.
With a sinking feeling, you know there’s no explanation that would ever satisfy Hajime if he heard this audio. You can already see the pain in his eyes if he were to find out that his best friend for the past twelve years had ruined you, fucked you so thouroughly that you could barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure.
You don’t want that, you realize miserably. You can’t have that.
“I’m not going to send it,” he says.
He sees hope creep into your expression, as if you’re almost daring to believe that you could go back to your normal life after this little session, but he doesn’t feel any pity for you when he speaks again.
“Not if you stay away.”
You and Hajime don’t belong together anyway, so why would he be sorry?
Your eyes drop as you inhale shakily. Oikawa watches you fumble around for your clothing, entertained by the way you trip and stumble as your weak legs attempt to hold you upright. It makes for an awkward, ugly image - but he can’t deny the warm thrill of satisfaction that runs up his spine as you slink out of his bedroom.
He’s finally making things right.
-
When you go to school the next day, you’re glad that you don’t have any classes with Hajime for the first time ever. It makes it easier to avoid him, and you purposely choose to sit as far away as possible from their table in the lunchroom. You don’t bother responding to his messages either, every single text of his sending a bitter jolt of pain through you, and you eventually block his number.
Weeks later, you’re not sure he’d believe you even if you were to explain everything. What would you even say? That you’d been ignoring him and ghosting him because his best friend of twelve years had raped and blackmailed you? That someone he knows and trusts was capable of devastating violence? Oikawa and him seem closer than ever, and you start to wonder at your own stupidity. To think that you could ever get in between a bond as close as theirs - maybe Oikawa was right all along.
You’re walking home alone one day, the hazy late-day sun bathing the roads in a shimmering heat, when you hear footsteps and a voice behind you. Your heart hammers unsteadily, getting ready to run, when you hear three words that make your stomach drop.
“I’ve missed you.”
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#yandere haikyuu x reader#oikawa x reader#yandere oikawa x reader#haikyuu#yandere x reader#haikyuu fanfiction#yandere#hq x reader#hq yandere#iwaizumi x reader#tw.noncon#tw.blackmail#tw.manipulation#lin.n*fw#tw.dc
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A/N: this one.... biiiitch.... giving you all a little college!harry, he’s so cute 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy hehe 😈 - n + d
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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader
warnings: smut. FILTH.
word count: 9.7k
Harry felt a bit creepy.
It wasn’t as if it was on purpose! No... but she was at all of the places he went. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but as he developed a routine for his classes, he found that they were often around each other for similar reasons. And usually? He would try and go up, introduce himself, and make a friend. The problem was... she was pretty.
Not like normal pretty. Pretty as in, holy fuck you make me so nervous and perhaps I’ll word vomit, pretty. He was shit at making the first move. She was in his Monday and Friday classes and sat not far from him, he noticed. And they always ended up at the Coffee Bean on Tuesday and Thursdays, sitting not too far from one another again. She got tea with a few cookies, and he got a black coffee and an orange scone. They’d work on their coursework and Harry would wait for her to leave and see her make it to her car before he would leave, not wanting to make it seem like he was following her. He’s found out her name through friends stopping in to see her. It was Y/N. Gorgeous, just like her.
Funny enough, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a bit of a crush. Y/N realized in the second week of classes that Harry was in fact one of the most intimidatingly cool and attractive men she’d ever seen. College boys weren’t supposed to look like that, but he was all soft in his sweaters and baggy pants. She wasn’t sure how he pulled it off so well, but she could admit she was jealous.
Seeing him at the Coffee bean was a relief because well, he walked in after her every time. She assumed it was because he had a class that ended later or something, but it didn’t go unnoticed that he was there. Usually it wasn’t too busy or loud so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye as they sat at one of the big tables. She felt like it would be too weird to talk to him, he seemed so... quiet. She’d never heard him speak, hell, she’d only ever locked eyes with him for milliseconds. Y/N wished she could be one of those girls that could effortlessly flirt, ask for a pencil or something, but she knew she’d freeze up and forget her rehearsed line.
Today however, when Y/N arrived, Harry was already there at his usual spot. Okay, Y/N... act natural. She thought to herself, going to order her usual before walking to boldly take a seat across from him. It would have worked out fine if her tote bag didn’t accidentally catch the corner of one of his books, sending things flying.
“Shit— sorry, I—” Y/N swore, setting her bag on the table before bending down to get the book and a few papers and a pen. Real smooth.
Harry was slightly startled when his shit went flying, but when he saw who had knocked it over, his heart picked up. Oh, shit.
“Oh— it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Harry’s voice was a bit gruff from not using it much today, pushing his chair back and bending down to grab the stuff with her. “S’my fault for putting it so close to the edge. I used to do that at home and my cat would knock it all off.”
Great. Already rambling.
Y/N didn’t register it at first, but he was british? Fuck. If she wasn’t already on her knees she would dropped down anyway, biting her lip to stop any noises that could have escaped. She giggled when he said his cat used to knock things over, “mine too.” She mumbled and went to stand up, feeling a tug at her arm.
“Ah, shit.” Harry had caught his ring in her sweater, pulling one of the threads. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” He blushed slightly, knowing how annoying it was to have a pulled thread. His collection of sweaters was immense, thanks to his nan— and he felt terrible. Damn his chunky things. “They always get caught in mine too but I wear them anyways. I can replace the sweater, if you need.” Damn it. He was trying to come off as smooth... not so nervous. But he was. She was so pretty and she was up close, she smelled like peaches and vanilla and a bit of sweet mint and her hands were so soft.
“Oh no, It’s fine! it’s old anyway— I can just cut it off or tuck it in or something.” Honestly, Y/N would figure it out. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad, it was an accident after all. She let him untangle it, holding her hand still though it seemed like he needed some help. “Smaller fingers...” She mumbled, using her nails to get the thread gently off of the ring. “‘s a nice ring.” Y/N complimented, finally meeting his eyes and feeling the breath leave her lungs at the close proximity. Her lips parted naturally, scanning his face for any signs of discomfort.
She was beautiful Harry though he may get sick because wow. Wow. He had imagined holding her hand and kissing her but this exact moment he hadn’t a clue on what to do. So he improvised.
“Are you in the 8 am psych class on Mondays?” He tilted his head. “I know I’ve seen you before.” Oh, he had seen her a lot. Especially in his dreams, day and night. It had been a bit intoxicating, really. At her nod, his grin came on his face. “Sick. S’that what you’re gonna study for?” He didn’t bring up the other class because... it would be embarrassing if she hadn’t noticed him before and he knew all too much. He needed a refill of his coffee though so he grabbed his cup, gently taking her things and placing them on the table next to his. “At least let me buy your stuff though. I feel awful about your sweater.”
“I’m actually just waiting on them to finish making mine, I was on my way to secure a spot but—” Y/N blushed, realizing the mess she had made. “Could you get it for me while you’re up there? It’s for Y/N. I can sit here and watch your stuff.” She felt like that was a subtle way for her to tell him her name.
This was the most she had ever spoken to him and it had been about a month or so that she’d been eyeing him up. She knew he was in her English literature class as well, but psych was her major. Y/N wondered if maybe he too was a psych major, maybe that’s why they sort of had the same schedule? Regardless, she felt a bit nervous making conversation so she spent the time he was away coming up with what she was going to ask him and how she was going to keep the ball rolling. Hopefully she didn’t interrupt his studying, if anything she’d leave him alone.
“Y/N?” He tested it on his tongue out loud for the first time. It tasted good. “Yeah. M’Harry. I’ll be back.” He nodded, going towards the front. His heart going a mile a minute, he couldn’t believe how quickly his luck had changed. He ordered an extra cake pop today, for her. she had said it didn’t matter but to him, it did. Eventually he hoped he could buy her a replacement. Or... maybe she could wear his around. Wow. That would stroke his ego and his fragile heart to the core. He could already see her on his lavender fishermen’s sweater, in front of his fireplace back at home. She would be so cute. The voice calling her name snapped him out of the fantasy, Harry grabbing it and then his own shortly after before returning to the table. “Here. I got the last cake pop for you. Don’t tell anyone I’m the offender.”
“Ooo you’re a dead man if they find out.” Y/N said, looking around before gently taking it from him. “Thank you... that’s sweet.” She blushed, taking a bite of it before taking a sip of her chai latte. Now that she had stuff to fiddle around with she could take a breather and not have to worry about filling space. “But um.. did interrupt something? Don’t want to distract you...” Y/N nodded over to his laptop, secretly hoping that he wasn’t up to much so that she could chat to him. She just wanted to know the basics, literally anything would satisfy her craving. Harry was quite literally her wet dream, she’d been looking all around campus for someone like him to come around. “I uh... I think I’m also in your English lit class? I feel like I see you around often.” Y/N spoke, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your major?” She felt like this conversation was light, something that would eventually lead into other things like... if he was single and looking for a girlfriend.
“Oh, you’re not bugging me. I’ve kind of been staring at the screen and zoning out if m’honest.” Harry chuckled, embarrassed a little to admit it. But everyone could relate to that, right? “And yeah... actually I think so.” He smiled lightly before taking a sip of his drink. Victory! She had noticed him too. He wasn’t the lonely creep who stared at the first who had no idea who he was. She knew who he was, kind of. He gently drew his sweater over his hands like little paws before going to her question. “English. I want to write and stuff, edit maybe. My dad has a publishing company so, I’m lucky I like a bit of the family business.” He tried to joke, looking at her. God. It was unnerving how beautiful and also, how fucking comfortable she was to be around. What a contrast. “And you? What major?” He took a nibble of his scone, not wanting to make a mess.
English? He’s a writer? Goodness. She was going to lose it.
“That’s cool, any specific genre you like to write?” Y/N asked curiously because well, it would actually tell her a lot about him and the kind of person he was. “I picture some mystery or possibly poetry, could go either way.” She said and squinted her eyes as she looked at him, pretending to size him up. “I can’t say I’m all that interesting, a psych major. Just like every other artsy person who doesn’t exactly want to commit to an art degree.” Y/N chuckled, “still deciding between criminal justice or counseling but... either way I’d be happy to get to pick someone’s brain. She did have the habit of analyzing people but only so she could understand them better. Y/N knew that all people wanted at the core was to be understood and loved for who they are, for the most part. Harry seemed reserved, calm and relaxed, secure in himself that’s for sure. It was extremely attractive.
“Oh? That’s really cool though.” Harry was genuinely interested in what she had to say either way. The major didn’t matter in his interest in her but it gave him information and something to talk about. If she was marketing or math he would be just as interested. “Criminal seems particularly interesting. Like that criminal minds show then? You’ll learn how they work and all of that?” He didn’t really know what it meant or why she had chosen it. “But close. I write romance novels.” He blushed fully. “Don’t judge me for it. But s’easy for me and I’m good at it, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been writing for a while.” He felt himself loosen up as they talked. Even if she intimidated him, she was really nice and sweet. “Poetry too, lots of it. But romance is my main thing, I’d like to do novels and that sort of stuff.” He could see she didn’t think it was lame, rather interesting. Which was a major relief. He wanted to impress her, so so badly.
“Sorta, yeah. Like... being able to predict a criminal's next move, psychologically.” Y/N explained and shrugged, “feel like it’s really fun and interesting but terrifying all at once. Dunno if I could actually interview a criminal without feeling like it was going to cry.” She let out a laugh, knowing she was quite soft. Her face lit up when he said he wrote romance novels. Wow. Well, as if he wasn’t a character right out of a romcom himself! She felt like that’s what this was. A romcom. Bumping into him at a coffee shop like a scene straight from one. “Really?! So you’re a proper romantic then? Buy the last cake pop for every girl, hmm?” She gave him a bashful smile. The very last thing she was doing was judge, she was more so thinking about their wedding. Yep. Already. Daydreaming because she swore she’d hit the jackpot. Wasn’t even sure if he liked her yet, but she was hopeful. After all, she’d turned on her charm.
“I guess I am.” Harry smirked to himself slightly at the good reception. Damn. He had been so worried and hesitant- he should have just talked to her. She wasn’t... that scary. Only a little bit.
He let her talk a bit more about her degree and Harry went on to speak about his favorite authors, and then the conversation shifted towards their classes and how he had been struggling slightly in psych— which led to her offering to help. Harry was shocked because honestly he hadn’t expected it from her, but he was pleased. He was happy to have an excuse to hang out with her more. See more of her and be able to teach himself to relax properly around her. He felt like a damn wind up toy, giddy and excited.
“That would be so helpful, if you could. And if you don’t mind.” He stressed. “I have a place off campus, if you’d want to go there? I’ll buy you some pizza or something for your help.” He was a giver and if it meant getting a $20 pizza for her because he wanted good quality, then he would!
“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N was practically jumping up and down with joy in her mind, this was a turn of events. She went from secretly crushing on him to being invited over his house in only a few hours. “I can never say no to pizza, but it’s really no problem. They say if you can teach it to someone else then you truly understand it so it’ll be a good test for me. Y/N also knew that they wouldn’t just study. Come on. It was a Friday night and study was practically code for hook up, especially considering he had invited her to his place and not the library. She had to prepare, had to make sure she looked cute and everything. She’d shower before hand too, the whole nine. “I can be there around 6?” Y/N suggested, checking her calendar app even though she already knew when she could come. She had to at least look like she wasn’t jumping at the idea.
“That’s cool. Uh— here, if you want I can put my number in your phone and whenever you want I can text you the address?” Oh, fuck. How, how the tables have turned. He had gone from wistfully staring at her every day to having a scheduled study session with her, the girl he’d been practically having wet dreams about. Having a full conversation and then her having his number! He was giddy and playing with the sleeves of his sweater as a result of the excited nerves. “Do you have any allergies? I do have a kitten at home.” He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to put Marie away. He loved his baby but he wanted to try something and see if she would be cool with him in a private setting. It would be less hard to talk about deeper things without people around. He took her phone from her and typed in his number, adding his name with a little 📚 after it. That wasn’t too much, right?
“Aw you do! I have one too, well... he thinks he’s a big boy.” Y/N shook her head at the thought of her sweet little Milo. Despite not doing anything she planned to do at the coffee shop, it still felt like a productive day in her eyes. Finally getting to chat with Harry felt like a breath of fresh air and he wasn’t all that scary now that she got to chatting with him. She took her phone back and smiled at the cute little emoji, sending him a text to let him know it was her before hesitantly getting up. “Alright well, I gotta get back to my kitten... but, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N smiled, watching him stand up as well. The two of them walked out of the coffee shop and to their cars, Y/N being bold enough to give him a hug before opening her car door. “Night!” She was surprised with herself. Y/N was proud, completely over the moon and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep tonight.
-----
Harry laid out on the bed that night with Marie on his chest. He had told her all about how the pretty Y/N had met him and that she would be coming over. The pretty cat was a long haired white kitty, and she purred along with Harry as he spoke. She liked hearing Harry be happy. It made him want to squeak when he heard his phone buzz and a little text from her popped up— he saved her as ‘Y/N 🌼’ because he felt like it fit. Part of him wanted to put a heart but he would be mortified if she saw and thought it was weird. She wore a yellow flower shirt one day so he figured that’s what he could excuse it as.
‘Hey, happy to hear from you! :) I hope your kitty is doing well. I meant to ask, you aren’t vegetarian are you?’
Y/N smiled at his text and attached a photo of her gray kitten laying across the top of her head while she laid down.
‘Yes, he’s quite cozy.’
‘I am actually! But I’m not too fussy.’
She couldn’t help it, she loved animals and she couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore. Occasionally, she would indulge in a chicken nugget or seafood, but for the most part she didn’t feel like she had to.
‘I’m going to get some sleep though, Good night Harry 💓’
That wasn’t too much was it? It was just a heart! She sent them to everyone. Y/N stayed up for a good ten minutes just digesting the day. Tomorrow would be even better, she had a feeling.
——
Harry was... well, he wasn’t sure how to describe the emotion. When Niall inevitably quizzed him on why he was acting strange, the best he had come up with was a mix of nerves and giddiness, also terror and extreme happiness. He was going to hang out with the girl he had been silently crushing on— and they had been texting quite frequently in the short time they had each other’s numbers. Was this going to be a regular thing? Was it going to blossom into more? He knew that he had wasted time before, not talking to her. She wasn’t scary! No... she was so sweet and kind and beautiful and everything she said made him a literal heart eye emoji. She had taken to sending him random photos, even so quickly in and it felt comfortable. He had even sent her a shot of Marie on the counter this morning, on top of his school notes. It was odd. The excitement he felt when he heard the bing from his phone of the vibration in his pocket... it was incredible. He liked this feeling. Damn it. This was such a new thing. He wanted to do more.
He saw her in class, watching as she crept in a bit after the last call should be with a sheepish smile on her face. He waved to her silently and watched her climb up, his heart beating quicker when she chose a seat closer to his than before. She wanted to sit near him? He clutched the rainbow patchwork sweater by the sleeves and fiddled with the cuffs, nerves and excitement swirling in his tummy.
If class wasn’t already on, Y/N knew she would have tried to spark up some conversation with Harry, but for now all she could manage was passing him a note.
‘I like your cardigan :)’
It was really cute. Most of Harry’s wardrobe was and in her dream world she already stole a few to wear. English literature wasn’t exactly the most exciting class, but Harry seemed invested. Y/N enjoyed watching him focus and take notes while she mostly doodled some random flowers and bears in her notebook. Her mind was thinking about what she was going to wear to his house and how she definitely needed a shower before and that she had to put on the lotion that matched her perfume. Was she overthinking this? Maybe. Of course it was just a study date, but you could never be too sure where things could go. And if they did— she wanted to be ready.
He knew that he needed to contain himself but his smile made it hard. She liked his cardigan. The random compliment had him feeling mushy and happy and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks as he clicked his pen and wrote back to her.
‘Thanks :) my nan knitted it for me. I like your little head band.’
He passed it back before opening his notebook back up. Her stare could be felt and he wanted to smirk a little at it because, well, who wouldn’t? She was so great, and he wanted to experience more of her but he was trying to not rush shit. He was a romance writer after all. All of it felt so in tune with his own wants and he had a hard time believing it was real. Sweet little Y/N wanted to hang out with him and she complimented his cardigan!
‘Awe!! That’s cute and thank youuuu 🥰’
She drew him a little smiley face with hearts around it, felt like it was very on brand for her and her emotive texting. Y/N felt all giddy because she had made a new friend but she was really hoping they wouldn’t just be friends.
Y/N knew she was hard to read because she was generally nice to everyone and honestly, Harry seemed to be the same way. She could only assume he liked her because he asked her to hang out so quickly. And he’d bought her a cake pop and was planning on buying pizza tonight. Was it a date then? Gosh, she needed to stop reading into it. Her leg kept bouncing up and down, mind trying to refocus and thankfully, their professor was discussing something she too had noticed in her reading. She still managed to steal quick glances at Harry for the rest of the class, giving him shy little smiles. It wasn’t till class ended that she ended up speaking to him, but even that was quick. She needed to get home and get ready.
Harry had gotten a quick hi, and a ‘see you tonight!’ With her hand brushing his arm before she skipped off to.. wherever she went. And that had him nearly sprinting home. Cleaning top to bottom, vacuum, scrub, vacuum again. Changed his sheets— why, he wasn’t sure— put his laundry in the basket, filled up Marie’s food and water, fluffed the pillows, cleaned the windows and coffee table... he did it all. Even cleaned out the fridge! Like she would care? Harry didn’t know. All he did know was that he was finally showered and smelled nice, hair fixed and the pumpkin patch candle was lit! The tv was on low because he was nervous and needed some filler noise to keep himself from overthinking.
Y/N was doing the same, not cleaning her apartment but cleaning herself. She stripped out of her clothes when she got home and immediately got into the shower, taking one of those full maintenance ones for good measure. Once she was positive she was squeaky clean and smelled nice, she jumped out to take the next steps. God, she really wanted to impress him. He’d been her crush for a while and she needed this. She wanted to look like she didn’t put in my effort when she did so she decided to put on some light makeup and chose an outfit that was more laid back. Usually, she was seen wearing sweaters and jeans, nothing too fancy, so that’s exactly what she settled on. Y/N wanted to look warm and inviting.
Milo mewed beneath her feet as she collected all her study supplies, rubbing against her ankles in need of attention. “I’m sorry bubs, I know I didn’t get to spend lots of time with you today but don’t be too mad.” Y/N pouted, picking him up and giving him a cuddle for a few minutes. She held him up to her chest as she finished up, deciding she needed to leave now.
‘Leaving now, be there in 20 ✨’
She sent, hopping into her car with nerves bubbling up in her stomach. God, she really hoped tonight went well.
——
When Harry heard the knock at the door he shot up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before forcing himself to be slow, walking to the door. And when he opened it, it really did feel like being hit in the gut. Seeing someone so beautiful, so up close? It got to him. He had to admit that. Y/N has this natural beauty that he drooled over. That felt like a hit. Every time he saw her he swore she got more beautiful.
“Hi.” He spoke with a smile, opening the door up for her. “Come inside. Marie is wandering around so I have to close the door. A little escape artist, she is.” He joked, letting her scurry in and close the door behind her.
“Hey! Oop— okay!” Y/N giggled and stepped past him into his apartment. It was very cute and very tidy. Y/N felt a little flutter in her belly, it was freshly cleaned. She stepped out of her shoes before further examining the decor. The style was something she very much expected for Harry, it was cozy and artsy. Lots of earth tones and that sweet autumn smell coming from the candle made her feel that much more excited. “It’s so nice in here! I love the pillows.” Y/N complimented, liking how some were fluffy and some had funky patterns on them. It was then that she heard a meow from below, Marie sniffing at her sock covered toes. “Oh hi there... sorry if you can smell Milo on me, gave me lots of snuggles before I left.” Y/N cooed down to the kitten, dropping down so she was closer to the ground and extended her hand for her to sniff and get used to.
Y/N realized this was very real now, especially because he had gone out of his way to make his place look nice. Most guys wouldn’t care, but maybe Harry did this for everyone. When she stood back up and turned to face him, she got a whiff of him and noticed his semi damp hair. He showered too. Oh—
Harry smiled at her and Marie, happy his kitten seemed to like her. Usually she would sniff his friends and run off but she began to weave over her legs and beg for pets. He was in awe. Christ. She had him by the balls already.
“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got diet soda... apple juice, lots of teas. And water.” He hummed, going into the kitchen with her behind him. It was an open concept though, the kitchen the first thing near the door and it opened into a large living area, the hall down going to the master bedroom. It was simple but perfect for him in college. He gave her a moment to think it over as he looked at her. So cozy and... cuddly. He wanted to slide his hands under her sweater and feel her warm skin and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, let her fingers play through his hair.
“Apple juice sounds good.” Y/N smiled, having picked up Marie at this point to carry her into the kitchen with them. She had a feeling she’d get along just great with Milo if they ever got to meet. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N cooed at the kitten, seeing her comfortably settled against her. “Does your Daddy spoil you with snuggles too?” She asked toying with her little paw before looking up at Harry with a smile. He had fumbled a bit with the lid of the juice at her words which made her giggle, “How are you? How was your day today?” Y/N was genuinely curious, deciding to make some small talk before actually sitting down. In her head she could already imagine the two of them hanging out here constantly, tangled up in one another, kissing and laughing and doing all the cute things that Harry likely wrote about in his stories.
“I’m— im good.” Harry’s mouth was dry. He knew that she hadn’t meant anything by it, but he heard her say ‘daddy’ in reference to him, and his stupid cock had jumped, tummy felt hot. Damn it. He wished he wasn’t so deprived but... she had been at the forefront of his mind. “It was a good day. I was happy to talk to you. You’re fun to talk to.” He meant it too. She was so interesting and funny and he was completely whipped and okay with it. Damn. He wished he had maybe a bit more restraint with his imagination but he didn’t. Not at all. “I have a harder time meeting people... i can be a little shy sometimes. I’m in my own head a lot you know? I have my core group of friends but... it’s hard to get to know people. I want to know them.” Her. That translates to her.
“Yeah?” Y/N felt her heart jump. He was happy to speak with her even just a little bit? He wanted to talk to her and get to know her? It wasn’t just a one sided thing. They were both making an effort in their own way and she was thinking someone had to break the tension. “I’m happy you think so.” Y/N blushed, “I um... I also like talking to you.” She had her little friend group as well but she never thought she’d actually end up being friends with Harry. Listening to him explain how reserved he was definitely made her feel special though. He chose to open up to her, she was special enough for that and that made her cheeks grow warm once again. “I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.” Y/N smiled, hesitantly placing Marie down before taking a few steps closer to him to get her glass of apple juice.
“Ooooh, a little daunting. Anything? Your social security number?” Harry was joking. Trying to clear the air and make her relax because she was a bit shy too and he wanted her to be comfortable here. This place should be a good spot for her. He motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him, Marie trailing after Y/N. Little traitor had a new favorite already but... he couldn’t say he could blame her. “I dunno... it’s hard sometimes, in this age to make genuine friendships. Feels like everyone’s already got their friend groups and you don’t want to infringe upon them yeah? And... I write a lot. I’m not a partier. Not to sound cliche but again.... I’m a writer.” He chuckled.
“I said just about!” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head to herself at his joke. She felt like she was an open book, she was pretty open with the things she liked and generally she aimed to spread positivity and love where she could. Her hobbies included lots of things, music, knitting, reading, gardening. That kind of stuff. “But yeah, I get that... I’ve been pretty content with my group of friends, though I think most people are open to making new ones. At least I am... I am a bit shy though.” Y/N took a sip of her apple juice before setting it down on the coffee table again. “Yeah, you said. Romance novels.” She smiled and leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable. “What sorts of romance novels?” What? Could you blame her for wanting to know what sort of content was in them? Maybe it could give her some insight on what he wanted.
“Oooooh. Hard hitting stuff.” Harry huffed out playfully. “I’m... it’s a variety, I think. I’ve done supernatural, classic tropes, historical romance was very fun. I am partial to enemies to lovers or forbidden romances though. They’re the most fun to write.” Y/N genuinely looked like she cared so he continued. “I’ve been trying out different stuff but....” he blushed again. “I’m... looking at erotica right now.” It wasn’t something he usually would blurt out but hey, she seemed trustworthy. Plus she didn’t seem like she would judge either. It was a new favorite of his. The rawness of it and writing sex scenes... it was amazing. Reading it, writing it, he thought he could do some on the side and sell it under a pen name. It would be a fun thing to try.
Erotica. This man sat down and wrote detailed sex scenes, likely kinky, for fun? Thankfully she didn’t have any juice in her mouth because it surely would have been spat out.
“H-how are you finding it?” She asked, reaching for her apple juice because she felt like she couldn’t sit still now. How else was she supposed to go about things when all she could think about was sex. Sex with him specifically. Y/N wasn’t blind, she knew that Harry was very attractive and very much gifted with beautiful hands. She could only assume he would have a wonderful cock as well. She knew there was no way someone so quite couldn’t have the filthiest of minds, she knew hers was. Her fantasies were where she roamed free.
“I mean... I do like it a lot, actually. I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy but I like to be able to write something like that. It’s freeing, in a sense.” Harry couldn’t really properly describe why but, he was a kinky dude. You’d never think it. He was soft and wore sweaters a lot and drank tea at home from a kitty mug but he was.... a kinky fucker. And he loved sex. There was just something about it. He wanted to try more and more of it but he had a tendency to get attached to his partners, even hook ups... so he had put that on a hault.
“I’d like to read some...” Y/N felt like at some point, she’d want to read his writing. If he felt comfortable now she didn’t mind. It was just writing, wasn’t it?
“You want to?” She looked at him with bright eyes and her a fast nod so Harry decided to say, fuck it. If they were going to work as friends... or lovers, which is what Harry really wanted... she would need to accept this side. He grabbed his laptop and boosted it on, letting himself grab the latest completed scene. “Here. You can read this, i'll order the pizza.” There were obvious nerves in his belly from letting her read filthy smut from his computer but Y/N... she was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she was.
They were meant to be studying.
That was long forgotten though as Y/N nodded and got comfortable on the couch with his laptop sat in her lap. It felt a bit taboo, but she figured she could separate the writer from the story.
The scene was from a male character’s perspective, describing him having a long and hard day at work where all he could think about was his partner. Y/N felt her face get progressively warmer as the character spoke about his partner, she couldn’t help but imagine this was how Harry was when he was horny and needy.
Y/N knew that if she was his, she would certainly brighten up his mood after a tough day at work. Seeing her own name in the document however proved that Harry thought the same. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her eyes lifting from the screen to look up at him as he ordered the pizza completely unaware of her discovery.
This is what he imagined? This is what he wanted to do.... with her?
Harry ordered two cheese pizzas and some cinnamon dessert thing because there was a a special going on. He had thought about getting more but he didn’t want to go overboard with it, so he finished the order. Thank god for online ordering.
“Okay... it’ll be here in 25 minutes I think.” He hummed, looking up and freezing slightly. She looked blushy and her eyes wide as she read the post and he wondered why she looked a bit startled. “Hey... y’alright love?” He asked quietly. God damn it. Had he freaked her out too much? Was it just too much in general for the first time they properly hung out? He couldn’t remember exactly what scene he had pulled up. Just that it was recent, a billionaire type of thing.
Y/N casually moved the laptop on to the coffee table without answering his question. She didn’t think twice before she climbed on to his lap, hands settling on his shoulders. Sure, it was a risky move, but after what she’d read? She felt like she had to make her move. She wanted to be just as hot and sexy as he had imagined her to be. Harry’s shocked expression made her smile, hand going up to cup his cheek.
“You left my name in the document...” Y/N’s voice spoke low and slow, thumb brushing over his now parted lips. Never did she think she could be so bold so soon, but fuck did it feel good. She felt so powerful, so sexy, and so so horny. “Thought about me riding your cock so much you wrote about it?” Y/N whispered, leaning in to kiss the skin just below his ear before nibbling at the skin. “Noticed me before we properly met... thought about me... is this what you wanted, baby?”
Harry blanked.
Oh. fuck.
He hadn’t expected her to climb into his lap. Climbing on and straddling him, cupping his cheek, talking in that hot little voice that had his cock filling a bit. Holy fucking shit.
“Oh—” He was cut off by her thumb over her lip. She was into it, into him. How had this happened? He had to be dreaming. But... no. Her heat was too real to be a dream. Her eyes too clear and dark, her smell too real. It was real. “Y-yeah...” He whispered, gasping when she kissed his skin, hand grabbing her waist. Oh, hell. Under his pants, his cock was quickly hardening. You couldn’t blame him, his dream woman, his crush, was straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Talking like this.
“Thought about it ‘lots.” He muttered. She was so bold for this and that was something he found so sexy. When her teeth scraped his skin and bit down a bit harder, a dark groan left his mouth, hand on her waist tightening. “Holy shit... Y/N.”
“Hmm... feels good?” Y/N questioned, licking over the spot that she bit before moving to a new one. “Think I can make you cum in 25 minutes?” Y/N felt like she could take on the challenge, his cock was already hardening beneath her and she was a bit of foreplay away from being completely soaked. “Wanna try all of it, yeah?” Y/N muttered, nipping at the spot just where his jawline met his neck. “Riding your cock.... you bending me over, can choke me too. Please do...” She moaned at the thought, her hormones completely taking over. He still seemed to be frozen, despite his hand now on her waist so she moved her hips forward a little bit and tugged at his hair. “Wanna make you feel good.”
Y/N had a kink for giving but it seemed Harry did as well. She expected a needy hook up, rough touches, quickness, pure lust. It’s exactly what she needed. It’s been a while since she’d hooked up with anyone and she was desperate for Harry to break her dry spell.
“Ah, shit.” Harry hissed. The tug at his hair sent a shock of hot arousal down his spine. That got him going so quickly. She wanted to fuck? Right now? He would be a fool to say no, and he wasn’t raised a fool. “Yeah? Y’want to ride my cock?” He asked lowly. “Fucks sake... I didn’t know you were so dirty.” He never would have guessed it from her either but... they were here. And he was snapped out of his shock by the tug, and now he was ready to do whatever the fuck she let him. “What did y’want the most, love? Tell me.” He had taken into account that she wanted to be choked, raising a hand to gently cuff her throat, bringing her close to his face. The confidence was soaring now, and all because she was leaking it. She wanted it, desperately. “I said, tell me.” He gave a quick squeeze to her throat. “Want to know what you need.”
“Need your cock, daddy.” Y/N moaned out, eyes blown and glazed over with desire. Y/N could feel the tension in her bones, cunt throbbing and aching to be touched. “Need you so bad, please— wanted you for so long, please make me cum, please!” She pleaded, fully giving into the fantasy. Y/N was never one to hold back and from what she had read, he certainly didn’t want her to. Her body felt like it was on fire, hands grabbing fist fulls of his sweater in hopes that he’d just take it off. Y/N wasn’t sure what type of body would be beneath it, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel his warm skin, lick and kiss all that she could while she worked her magic. Y/N waited for his directions, falling into the submissive role easily despite her initial approach. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have to re-write that scene.”
Harry was going to give this girl any fucking thing she wanted. He let her guide his sweater off, the cool air hitting his skin not even getting a chance because her hands and mouth were all over him. It was like she had fallen into a heat, and Harry.... he loved it. He placed his hands under her sweater, feeling her hands smooth over his chest as she kissed at his neck and over his jaw. Her skin was hot under the sweater, his hands gripping her waist and smoothing over her hips, going up and sip to her ribs where he realized— fuck.
“Not wearing a fucking bra?” He hissed. “Jesus... you’re a little minx, aren’t you? Off with this.” He spoke lowly, grabbing the ends of it but barely had a shot before Y/N ripped it off of her body. Fucks sake. She was sexier than he had ever imagined. “My god... you’re so sexy, baby.” He whispered, sitting up and burying his face between her breasts. Kissing the hot skin between them, working his way up with the wet, open mouthed kisses to her throat.
“Oh Daddy...” Y/N’s body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth on her, head falling back as she let out a happy sigh. He seemed to like her hand in his hair so she happily gripped at his locks as he scattered kisses over her skin. “Come ‘ere...” She whined, guiding him up to her lips. “Wanna taste your mouth.” Making eye contact with him in this moment felt intimate. All those quick glances in classes and at the coffee shop, all the day dreaming, it all built up to this moment where she fully felt she could let herself let go. The both of them wanted this, it was so reassuring, this was a safe space and they could do whatever they wanted. Y/N’s body rolled forward, pushing him further back onto the couch and angling her hips so she could tease the both of them before she let herself have it. Fuck was he hard... and full. Another moan left her lips, sounding more like a plea and cry for more.
“Fuck me... you’re needy. I love it.” Harry hissed, pulling her mouth to his. It wasn’t soft. No, this kiss... it was hot. Heavy. Her mouth opened and immediately he dragged his tongue inside, meeting hers. She tasted like the apple juice and a bit of mint, and he could groan just from how good it was. Sweet little Y/N wasn’t too innocent at all. “Fuck— keep teasing me like that. S’like you want to end up crying.” He had a feeling now that she did. She wanted his cock inside of her pussy, thrusting in and out and letting herself soak him. Yeah... he wanted it too. “Keep calling me daddy. You’re so dirty. Who would have fucking... known.” He spoke between the kisses, hands going for her jeans. He wanted them off, like hours ago. He was finally going to get her. “M’gonna lay you out in my bed after... first m’gonna fuck you, but M’gonna clean out your cunt with my tongue. And then M’gonna take you again. Yeah?” She has come for studying but was staying for hot sex and he hoped to turn it into a nice marathon. He had all weekend and he was hoping she wouldn’t have to go. He had too many idea for her. “Gonna let daddy lick it up?”
“Fuck— yes, gonna let daddy have his way with me...” She kept her hips rolling against his slowly, keeping the rhythm in check with the passionate kiss they were sharing. Y/N already knew this was going to be the best sex of her life, the kiss alone let her know that. His tongue would work wonders on her cunt and she’d be more than happy to return the favor. Hesitantly, Y/N began to stand to get her jeans off, one of her hands staying put on the back of his neck so the kiss didn’t break. She let him fiddle with the zipper, feeling his fingers hook both her jeans and underwear before yanking them down to which Y/N let out a little squeal.
Y/N knew she had to pull away from the kiss for air but she didn’t want to, waiting till the very last minute until she couldn’t anymore and went to get his jeans off.
“Come on. Be good.” He murmured against her lips, brushing his hips up so she could get his pants off. She tugged and easily they came down, Harry kicking them off as he pulled her back in his lap. His hands gripped her bare ass and groaned when she pushed into them, not thinking twice before pulling his hand back and smacking it the sound rang in the room and she let out the most sexy noise against his mouth, making him hiss. Fuck. He wanted her so fucking badly. This girl... she was everything. One hand went to feel and fuck. Fuck shit, motherfuck, it was wet. She was so, wet. “Jesus— you’re so wet. Baby— holy shit, you’re soaked.” He whispered. “S’cause of me? You wanted daddy’s cock this bad?” He pulled his fingers off slightly, the arousal still stringing to his fingers. He placed them at her mouth and pushed them in. “That’s it. Clean them up, sweet girl. You’re so filthy, y’know that? Precious little thing. So slick and hot, want cock so fucking bad don’t you?” He cooed, feeling her suck on the digits. “Now.... rub it against your pussy. Don’t put it in yet. get it wet.”
Y/N sucked at his fingers as if it were her job, making sure to treat it like she would his cock which included eye contact. She loved looking at him, seeing his hungry expression and his eyes that seemed to say so much more than he did. Even the feeling of her cunt sliding over his cock sent tingles up her spine. It had never affected her this much with other guys, but she assumed it was different with Harry because she had wanted him for so long. Y/N let out a whimper, feeling a gush of wetness accumulate when he pushed his fingers in farther. Harry was hot in ways she couldn’t explain, there were little things he did that just hit the spot and made her want to fuck him even harder. Y/N was practically bouncing on his cock, aching for him to let her have it inside.
“You’re such a good girl. Listening so fucking well.” Harry took his fingers from her mouth, smirking at the whine and slight chasing of his fingers when he placed it on her breast. She gave it all to him and honestly, he was ready to just... lose it. “Go ahead. Take what you want.” It was not even a moment later that he felt her begin to sink down. She was tight— so damn tight, and he choked slightly at just how good the squeeze was. He let out a hiss, head thrown back in the couch as the slick, hit cunt sucked over him, squeezing hard as she stretched open slowly. “Holy fuck.” He growled, gripping both hips now and looking at her with a darkness in his eyes. “You’re so bloody tight— Christ, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” He whispered.
“Daddy!” She whimpered as she slid farther down on his cock until she couldn’t fit anymore of him in. “I’m so full— feels so good.” Her eyes rolled back a bit as she began to bounce at a slowed rhythm. Small moans and little huffs came from her throat with every stroke of her hips, it wasn’t until she felt warmed up that she actually went for it. Y/N shifted so that she had better balance, keeping her hands on his shoulders before dropping back down on his cock. “Fuck!” She squeaked, making sure to clench one her way back up before repeating the action at a quicker pace. It felt incredible. He was touching every little part of her, feeling small waves of pleasure spread throughout her body. “Daddy! Fuck— feels so good ahhh!” Her moans were pornographic, whiny, desperate and needy. She didn’t even know she could sound like that, but apparently it was possible when she was as thirsty for cock as she was.
Never would he have guessed that this would be the outcome of their hang out. He had hoped, sure. Dreamed? Absolutely. But the reality was so much better. He had the hot, wet and extremely tight pussy gliding up and down his cock. She was moaning, tits bouncing in his face, and she was vocal. More than he could have asked for. The infatuation he had with her was only growing.
“Fuck, you’re a good girl. Such a perfect little cunt. Like bouncing on my cock, hm? Knew you’d be the perfect girl for me. Keep going.” His hand squeezed her ass, encouraging her to work herself on him. “Feels so full, yeah? Such a big cock filling such a little pussy. A nice stretch for you hm? So eager to be filled up...” her face was of pure bliss and Harry couldn’t help but take a mental photo. He hoped this could happen more than this once. “Knew you’d be good for me. Throwin’ yourself in my lap and begging to be fucked. Never guessed you’d be such a little slut, but I love it.” He took his hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass.
“Fuck!” Y/N gasped, her own hand moving to cuff his neck. It wasn’t as effective as him doing it to her, but it got the point across. The both of them grabbing at each other roughly, him thrusting up into her each time she slammed down. It could only be described as pure ecstasy, surely the hottest sex she had ever had. She needed him, she needed him to cum. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth again, making a mess of the two of them. “You’re so fucking good— love your cock, daddy... fucking love it!” She moaned between kisses, increasing her pace just enough so she could fuck him hard and steady. “I want you to cum for me daddy, wanna feel it nice and deep.” Thank fuck for IUDs. “Want you to fill me up while I cum all over your cock, can you do that for me? Can you cum with me?”
He was panting, lowering himself so he could properly thrust into her sopping cunt. He hadn’t gotten any in so long but this blew any and everyone out of the water. No one could ever understand how good this was. All the pining and imagining had come to an even better conclusion.
“I’ll do it... but you... gotta promise me.” He growled, giving a particularly sharp thrust inside of her, making her wail. “Promise me I can do it again. Let me have this pussy more.” He didn’t want it to end if it was the only time he could get it. It was too good to let go of. Drooling all over his cock and her soft whimpers and dirty words had him more worked up than anything else. “Promise, baby, and I’ll let you have my cum.”
“Promise— I promise— fuck!” She felt her breath get caught in her throat at the particularly hard thrusts Harry was giving her. “Please Daddy, please give it to me.” Y/N whimpered, moving her hands so they cupped his cheeks, keeping eye contact with him as they continued to relentlessly thrust into each other. There was nothing more satisfying, nothing that managed to hit every part of her both physically and spiritually and made her feel so alive. When you’ve wanted something for so long it makes getting it that much better and she knew that she’d always be chasing this high that only he could give her. “I’m so close, fuck, daddy—“ She mumbled between kisses, squeezing around him and continuing at her pace to bring herself to the perfect high. “Cum with me daddy, please— ah!”
Harry would work on his stamina next round. But after the whole thing, he was close to losing his mind. She was giving him the most tempting offer and he wasn’t going to give it up.
“Oh— fuck me.” He thrusted in again and again before he let himself go. Feeling her clench up around him and sob against his mouth, he let out a deep growl as he buried himself deep. Hot cum shooting inside of her cunt, rocking his hips in to get it all in there. There was no doubt that this was some of the most intense sex of his life but he was almost ready to go again, as soon as it ended. Holding her shivering form, her orgasm was tapering, he could feel her clenching still. “That’s it. Take all of it inside of you. Good girl.”
Y/N gripped Harry’s shoulders, loud screams of pleasure coming straight from her throat. There were no words to describe the high, she almost felt out of her own body as he showered her with praise. With her body shaking and face contorting with a silent scream, she found it in her to come back down letting out a pathetic whimper.
“Daddy—” She swallowed thickly, mouth finding his messily, pressing kisses to his lips and his face. The two of them were both lightly covered in sweat, breathing heavily and enjoying each other’s company. Y/N was far too blissed out to think about what just happened, but blissed out enough to know there would be many more rounds of this tonight. Y/N smiled as she nuzzled against his neck, still sponging kissing to his dampened skin. “Better?” She mumbled, smirking against his skin a bit.
“Mm.” He hummed, hands holding her hips still. Holy hell. This was the beginning of an amazing weekend- because he didn’t plan on letting her out at all, if he could help it’ he wanted her to stay, to let him indulge in her. “So fucking good.” He muttered lowly, rubbing his hand up her back and smoothing over her skin. Fucks sake. This was paradise. Nothing could pop him out of this.
At least, that was until the doorbell rang.
“Ah, fuck. The pizza.”
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Red
Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 3680
Warnings: Kink and trauma. You know, in case you forgot whose blog you were on! Night terrors. Non-graphic flashbacks to violence, very graphic smut. Bucky’s head is just not a very fun place? References to brainwashing and torture. Kink discovery, including some hitting/slapping during sex and some power/control fantasies, all within the context of a very happy relationship. It goes down dark but there’s a distinctly soft aftertaste.
A/N: For @cockslut-padalecki and her Decade Under The Influence challenge. My prompt was “The Crimson” by Atreyu. Thanks for always hosting the absolute best challenges, and congrats on the milestone!
Pre-reads by @thoughtslikeaminefield @mskathywriteswords and @fangirlxwritesx67. Inspiration from that scene where Sebastian Stan gets slapped. You know the one I mean.
The companion fic to this will be coming soon! It’s significantly darker and way outside my wheelhouse, but please let me know if you want a tag.
The Soldier stalks silently down the hallway to the bedroom, scanning the shadows.
The closet.
Something itches, deep under the ice: knowledge that closets are for hiding —
— a small girl, giggling in the back corner of the closet —
— ready or not, here I come —
— but those frozen things don’t belong to the Soldier.
He opens the door and finds the woman on the floor, trying to hide in the darkness. He picks her up by the throat. Moonlight from the open window glints off her wide eyes and the Soldier’s metal hand. She fights back, clawing at his arm uselessly.
He waits for her to stop struggling. They always do.
Bucky opens his eyes and bolts upright, gritting his teeth against the sweaty, shivery wave of nausea.
It takes a moment for the numbing chill of the Soldier’s memory to fade.
He knows it’s a memory. He lost so many things in the deep emptiness of cryo-sleep, but he couldn’t bury them forever, and now they claw their way out while he dreams. The darkness gives him back his life, one nightmare at a time.
Sometimes he wakes up screaming. Sometimes he wakes up convinced that the bed under him is soaked with blood, and it takes a few awful seconds to realize that he just sweated through the sheets. Other times he’s paralyzed in the darkness, convinced he’s back in the cryo chamber, and he wants to punch and claw and fight his way out, wants to see the sun again, but he tried that one too many times — he learned his lesson about wanting things.
At least he didn’t wake her this time. She makes a breathy sound as she stirs, but she’s still sound asleep, and when he inspects his hands in the glow of her night light, there’s no trace of red.
She got the light about two months ago, when he started sleeping over. She didn’t ask him, didn’t mention it — he would’ve been embarrassed, if she asked, but it helps. She helps.
He’s goddamn crazy about her. It hasn’t been long, but he knows this is it for him.
Bucky curls up facing her. Her hair is a mess, and there’s a damp patch of drool on the pillow under her slack mouth, and she’s beautiful. It’s amazing that she trusts him enough to fall asleep next to him.
He closes his eyes. This time he doesn’t dream.
The end credits of the movie start to scroll down the screen, and she makes a grumbling noise that means she doesn’t want to get up and turn the TV off. Her little apartment is full of the rich smell of whatever she’s got in the oven, and the day has been so sweetly domestic that Bucky wonders when everything will start to twist and distort and go bloody. He must be hallucinating.
But the hallucinations always had a sort of airbrushed quality to them when they started, an inhuman perfection that felt easy, like he was floating. Right now his stomach is growling, and when she shifts, her elbow digs into his side, and she’s a heavy comforting warmth on top of him.
The hallucinations were the product of his own brain, which might be why they came back all too quickly when he started to recover his memories. Even when he couldn’t remember his sisters’ faces, he remembered the drug-fueled torture that took place behind his closed eyelids, scenes that started like fantasies and ended like nightmares.
Most memories from before the fall are weak and hazy, sepia-toned afterimages that overlay the living world like ghosts. Other things bleed through the decades, making it hard to keep track of whose memories he’s seeing. The Soldier’s memories are always sharp and cold, and they’re the hardest to shake off. Sometimes they’re triggered by the present, and it’s always a surprise; he’s stepping into a crosswalk and the past is washing over him like —
The water from the hose is freezing cold as the handler rinses off the blood —
— and he’s still staring down at the slushy puddle, but —
— the Soldier keeps his eyes down, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering, watching the red swirl over the cold cracked tile and disappear down the drain, and —
Bucky has to fight to hold on to the honking taxis and the Brooklyn stink, because the cryo chamber is quiet like a coffin in the last few seconds before he’s frozen into unconsciousness, and —
— and sometimes he feels frozen even when the dreams dissolve, even when he knows they’re only dreams.
The frigid paralysis was mental more than physical, for the Soldier, and that’s a hard thing to shake. The raw human parts of him iced over, head and heart numb while his body carried on following orders.
She sits up and stretches, making her shirt ride up, and he notices bruises on her hips, wrapping around the side.
“Did I do that?” he asks, voice thin.
She looks down like she didn’t notice. “Probably.”
He tugs the waistband of her yoga pants down a little and finds the shape of a handprint, stained purple. She twists to show him a matching set on the other side. They’re more defined on the side he was gripping with his metal hand last night. He feels cold all over.
“Sorry.”
“No biggie.”
He’s too scared to meet her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
“What if I asked you to?” she tosses back, playful and easy.
Bucky doesn’t know how to react to that. He can’t let her see how badly he wants that, so he just freezes like a deer in headlights, forcing himself to go still, to shut down, to say nothing.
“Whoa, hey, don’t do that,” she says, and she moves into his space slowly, deliberately, giving him time to tell her to stop. He blinks at her, and she smiles, soothing.
He spent the first month of their relationship waiting for her to turn and run. It’s gotten better, but…
“Why the hell do you trust me?” he blurts out.
She frowns, and hesitates, and he wants to reach up and smooth out the little frown line that forms between her eyebrows, but he doesn’t. She curls up against him and kisses his jaw.
“Would you ever choose to hurt me?” she asks.
“No.”
“There you go.” He feels the movement when she shrugs, as if it’s that easy. “You control your choices. That’s it.”
“But I —”
“No buts,” she interrupts, and her voice is firm. “I choose to trust you and you don’t get to talk me out of it.”
Bucky lets out a huff of not-quite-laughter at that. She’s stubborn as hell when she wants to be, and he knows better than to argue.
“Okay,” he says, and wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. She settles closer, her breath a warm damp tickle against the side of his neck.
His body used to be a weapon.
“You can’t blame yourself for things that are out of your control,” she mumbles, as if she heard him.
He takes a deep breath and says it again: “Okay.”
He can see her reflection in the mirror; she bites her lip, teeth white against her bright red lipstick, trying to hold back, but the whimpers are getting louder by the second as he fucks her harder. She’s bracing herself with her forearms on the sink, her entire body shaking with each sharp thrust.
“Shhhh,” Bucky says, half-laughing, but he doesn’t slow down.
He’s pretty sure this was her plan all along. They barely made it an hour into the party before she tugged him into the bathroom, and usually he would protest, but he’s been half-hard since he first saw her in that damn outfit.
She opened the door earlier looking like a pinup, complete with glossy curls and red lips and this dress: flared skirt, nipped-in waist, curves threatening to spill over the scooped-low neckline. He had just stuttered for a few seconds as a wisp of memory cast a sepia glow over her pleased smile.
He used to have a dog-eared print of one of those calendar girls, and it was tame compared to some that were carried to war, but there was something warm in her smile that made him hold onto it. He used to daydream about her waiting at home, welcoming him at the door, when everything else was heavy and grey. He used to look at her smile when he couldn’t bear to close his eyes, knowing he’d only see blood. They took it when he was captured, of course, but he used to imagine —
— this, he used to imagine this, the way the skirt is rucked up around her hips and she’s bent at the waist, the way she stretches open around the shiny-wet length of his cock.
He has a flash of certainty that this is just a fantasy, something he’s imagining desperately as he fucks his own fist and tries not to make a sound, pressing his other palm to his mouth to muffle his labored breathing. He’s picturing this so vividly that when he opens his eyes and sees the stars, framed by the caved-in ceiling of another bombed-out shell of a building, he’ll have to fight back tears of disappointment.
The sight of her face in the mirror is utterly pornographic, threatening to send him over the edge too soon, but when he looks down, he can see the way her ass bounces and jiggles as she shoves herself back to meet each thrust, and that’s goddamn obscene too. Bucky’s imagination has never been this good.
She’s so close, too close to stay silent, and just as she lets out a high-pitched, keening moan, there are footsteps right outside the door.
He reacts instinctively, before he can think better of it; he slaps his hand over her mouth, muffling the sound against his palm — the metal one, he realizes, a split-second too late.
Their eyes meet in the mirror for one wild heartbeat. Her skin looks dangerously soft under silver fingers that could so easily break the fragile jawbone they grip.
Then her eyes roll back in her head, and her orgasm blindsides both of them with its intensity. If he wasn’t silencing her, she would’ve shouted, he’s pretty sure; she spasms violently against his grip, writhing like she’s trying to shake him off, and —
— he imagines her struggling, fighting back, until he pins her against the wall and —
— it hits him like a gut-punch. He doubles over, curling himself around her as he comes with a rough shocked grunt, and the white-out lightning-bolt electroshock feel of it is so incredible he forgets, for a few seconds; he just buries his face in those curls and kisses the nape of her neck.
He straightens up and realizes her lipstick is smeared over the metal hand, deep crimson red.
“God, we’re a mess,” she laughs breathlessly. She turns to kiss him, eyes sparkling, and then they have to clean up, put themselves back together, and he brushes it off.
It was probably a memory, a ghost whose features he confused with hers in one fevered second. Unwanted memories —
— dreams — flashbacks — fantasies — hallucinations —
— invade his reality every day.
It didn’t feel like a memory, though.
She smiles, and there’s no doubt in his mind that the smile is real, so Bucky swallows his guilt and smiles back. Her hand is warm in his.
There’s a knife in his hand and blood on the floor.
It’s messy, but those were his orders. Easier to frame the mistress this way. At least the carving knife was sharp. Red drips down the blade onto the metal fingers.
He’s about to place it next to the corpse when he hears the gasp. The mistress had been asleep four minutes ago, but people are unpredictable that way.
Messy.
The Soldier pivots, finds her standing in the doorway, hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She’s paralyzed by fear, like a deer in headlights as he stalks closer. Usually they run. Sometimes they fight back. This one just stares.
“I won’t say anything,” she whispers. “I didn’t see —” He grabs her wrist, and she shrieks, trying to twist away, until he pins her against the wall and holds her in place. Tears start to roll down her cheeks. “No, please, I’ll do anything you want — just don’t kill me! You can — anything, I promise, I won’t struggle! Do you want —”
“Want” is buried deep under the ice. “Want” is for bodies that are warm and soft and human. The Soldier is a weapon.
He presses the knife into her hand and forces her fingers to close around the handle. She was supposed to be asleep.
She’ll be blamed, one way or another, but maybe it’s better this way. Cleaner.
No witnesses. It’s an order.
Bucky wakes up. He’s trembling, sitting up with his hands twisted in the sheets, but it’s not as bad as it could be. She’s sitting up next to him, one gentle hand on his chest as she watches with wide sad eyes.
“Sorry,” he chokes out. “Fuck, I hate waking you up.”
“Almost time anyway,” she says, which is when he realizes that it’s morning. Sunlight is streaming in through the sheer curtains. He settles back against the headboard, taking it in. They’re both naked, with her big downy comforter around their waists, and the residual chill of memory thaws immediately in the cozy warmth of her bed.
She leans in hesitantly and brushes her lips against his. He can read the worry plain on her face — she doesn’t know what he needs right now — but he tugs her onto his lap, tilts his head back, mouth opening easily under hers for slow lazy kisses that stretch like taffy and then turn deep and dirty. She swears like a sailor as she sinks down slowly onto his cock.
Christ, she’s gorgeous.
It must be real. He could never hallucinate something so flawed and incredible as the way she looks naked, the stretch marks under his palms, the calluses on her fingers when she cups his jaw, the way she moans when he plants his feet on the bed and fucks up into her.
She’s flushed and dewy with sweat, moaning in the sharp bitten-off way that means he found just the right angle, and her thighs are shaking hard enough that he has to grip her hips and hold her steady. He can feel her starting to get close, clenching and flooded around him, when her alarm goes off.
“Cocksucking motherfucker,” she snarls.
They both look helplessly at the phone, just out of easy reach on the nightstand. Bucky’s tempted to just ignore it, but she’s already leaning over. She twists at the waist but doesn’t stop rocking her hips down against him, squeezing in little pulses like she can’t help herself, so he settles her more firmly on his lap, holding her weight and anchoring her as she reaches for it. He works his right hand down between them, an awkward angle that’s totally worth it when he can rub her clit with the pad of his thumb and feel her spasm around his cock.
“Five more minutes,” he suggests breathlessly.
“Not gonna need that long if you keep doing that.” She trembles and almost collapses before finally grabbing the phone, and she hits the snooze button immediately.
He’s already rolling his hips, grinding in deep, and he must hit something just right at the same moment she starts to straighten up; it makes her twitch, jerking uncontrollably against him as she moves, and her elbow cracks across his jaw, snapping his head to the side hard enough to rattle his teeth.
“Shit!” she hisses, and then: “I’m so sorry, I — are you —”
But the rough throb of pain hit like a swell of heat in Bucky’s gut, making him jerk up into her and shudder with pleasure. He lets his head loll, taking a deep heaving breath and letting it out as a moan.
It’s not until he tilts his head back to look at her stunned face that he realizes what just happened. His cheeks burn but she doesn’t look disgusted; her eyes go all heavy-lidded and she bites her lip as she starts to ride him again, swiveling her hips.
He’s opening his mouth to make some excuse, to deny it, when she leans in for a bruising kiss: teeth scraping his lower lip, a whimper rough in her throat, cunt silky-hot and soaked, so good his head is spinning.
Then she asks raggedly, “Do you want me to do that again?”
Without even thinking about it, he blurts out, “Yes.”
Her palm connects with his cheek, a sharp sting that draws a guttural sound from deep in his chest. He moves on pure primal instinct, gripping her hips to slam her down on his cock.
From there it’s rough and frantic and desperate. He’s only dimly aware of the way she moans, bucking against him, the way they’re moving against each other like animals, the way she bites his lip so hard he tastes copper and then he’s gone, coming so hard his vision goes white with the first intense pulses of it. She shudders as she follows him, riding out the shocks of pleasure with her forehead pressed to his and her hands in his hair.
He shivers against her, breath hitching as reality washes in like ice water.
“I can feel you freaking out,” she mumbles. “What, they didn’t have kink in the thirties?”
It surprises Bucky enough that he lets out a huff of laughter. “No. Not exactly.”
“Why is this freaking you out?”
He stutters for a second before he manages, “What’s wrong with me?”
She sits up and looks at him intently. “Fucking nothing.”
“That should be the last thing I want,” Bucky mutters, cheeks burning.
“That’s not how it works,” she snaps. “Sex isn’t — it doesn’t always make sense. It’s messy.”
“I’ve had enough of hurting people for a fuckin’ lifetime.”
There’s something vulnerable in her sheepish half-smile. “Sometimes your body likes shit it shouldn’t. You can’t control what gets you off. Believe me, sweetheart.”
He blinks, ready to question that, and she leans in for a quick kiss. As if on cue, her alarm goes off again.
“Fuck.”
“I gotta go,” she says reluctantly. “But later — later we’re going to talk about some things. Okay?”
He doesn’t say it out loud, but he thinks it very clearly in that moment: I love you.
“Okay.”
The Soldier pins her brutally against the wall, one hand around her wrists, the other around her throat. He doesn’t squeeze, not yet, just holds her there and savors the thrill; she’s writhing and lashing out at him like a caged animal, but he’s got her and she knows it.
It’s beautiful, the way she snarls and tries to struggle.
He wants —
— so this must be a normal dream, not a memory, but —
— he wants to fuck her just like this, up against the wall, and —
— his hips jerk and his cock throbs, and —
— fuck, he wants her.
“Baby?” Her voice comes out as a sleep-slurred moan.
He tries to blink away the dream, but instead he’s rolling over and pinning her, rocking his hips down before he can stop himself. She sucks in a breath, spreading her legs to meet the next slow thrust, and she blinks dazedly up at him, mouth dropping open as they rut against each other.
“What was it?” she asks, raspy and heated.
He lets out a pained sound and drops his head, hunching to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He’s so goddamn hard, so close, all over a fucked-up dream, and —
“I was holding you — up against the wall. Your wrists.”
“Yeah?” she says, voice smoky and eager. “Remember what we talked about?”
“Traffic lights. Red if you want me to stop.”
“Do it.”
Oh.
“Are you sure?”
“Fuck yes.”
He snatches her wrists and crosses them over her head, watching the way her lashes flutter at the touch of metal, the way she bites her lip. She shifts under him, squirming until the length of him is slotted up against her slickness and her legs are up around his hips.
He slides in slow, relishing every inch, her body welcoming him with living dripping heat. She arches up, and he adjusts his grip on her wrists, squeezing slightly as he braces himself. All he wants in the entire damn universe is to drive into her, piston his hips until she’s screaming, but he starts to fuck her with steady even thrusts, holding back, trying to let go of the last lingering doubts.
“Doesn’t this scare you?” Bucky asks hoarsely. “That you’re trapped.”
She lets out a moan that sure as hell doesn’t sound like fear. This isn’t a dream any more, but it still feels surreal.
“Yellow,” she says.
“Shit. What’s wrong?” He tries to pull away, but she’s got her ankles hooked, keeping him in place with her legs. He lets go of her wrists, at least, and hauls in a deep breath, trying to make sense of that fierce expression on her face.
“Nothing. I just wanted you to see that you’re in control. You chose to stop.”
He swallows hard. “Yeah. I did.”
“Stop punishing your body for wanting this,” she says.
His breath catches, and for a moment all he can do is stare. She gives him a smile so soft it threatens to rip him open.
Then he curls his fingers around her wrists again — they’re still crossed, right where he left them. He waits for her nod.
“Green.”
Companion fic is here.
#decadeundertheinfluencechallenge#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky x reader#MCU#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader
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As lucky as the rainbow
A/n: Im sorry. Also. Special dedication to the love of my life, @cantaraiilmionome , who let me write this fic
Warnings: Smut
Word Count: 1.7K
Pairing: Vic X Fem!Reader
Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11
My heartbeat was wild and mostly erupting from my chest as the whole world around me seemed to quiet down. The mesh shirt I was wearing was already crumpled from all the times I had fiddled with it nervously. To be honest, could anyone really blame me? I have been obsessed with Måneskin for ages, and I finally get to see them live. A small, really pesky part of my brain kept bugging me. They would have no reason to like or notice you; why are you even here? Well, that definitely did not help the anxious feeling growing in my stomach.
Suddenly, the crowd erupted in cheers as four rock stars appeared on the stage.
And oh god what they were wearing. A certain blonde caught my attention, one who I was more than familiar with. Victoria strutted on the stage, her bass strap wrapped around her, as a small corset did nothing to cover her. Two black stripes of tape covered each of her boobs and she looked celestial. It was unfair to everyone else! How could she just look like that!?
“Is everyone ready?” Damiano’s strong voice sounded out of the speakers, earning an excited cheer from everyone.
As they started playing, I realised I was no longer anxious. Moving from side to side and jumping along with them, It felt as If the world stopped temporarily just for me to enjoy this moment. It was truly heaven, and their magnetic presence made it infinitely better.
“Now, for a fan favorite…” Damiano spoke into the mic, soon interrupted by the all too familiar notes of For Your Love. Oh god.
I couldn’t decide who to pay attention to; Ethan’s godly form playing the drums in a way I wished he would play my ass, Thomas’ talented fingers strumming the guitar chords, Damiano fucking the stage while singing or-
Oh.
I was one of the lucky ones who got to sit up front. So my view of Victoria was truly a dream come true. Her eyes were closed as she thrusted into the air, her hips moving with precision and skill, as she moved her head backwards in rhythm with the song. Two of her fingers were plucking the chords, clouding my mind with thoughts of what else she could do with them.
The whole song became a vivid fantasy for me, as I kept watching Victoria play, entranced by her sensuality. The song sadly came to a stop, and Damiano started speaking again. My lovely brain, however, could only gaze at Victoria, her wonderful top and fingers.
As If on cue, she knelt down right at the edge of the stage, and winked at me. Wait, she did what? My brain stopped functioning as I kept staring at her, eyes comically wide and mouth hanging open.
She smirked at my reaction, and motioned for me to come closer with her finger. A bodyguard came and opened the barrier, as I made my way through.
I was right in front of the stage, looking in her icy blue eyes. She leaned down and cupped my cheek, shaking it softly.
“Wanna stay here, cucciola?” She asked, a sultry smile appearing on her face. I nodded eagerly, causing her to laugh, before returning to her band.
The rest of the concert managed to make me so wet I was convinced my knees would give in the second I would try to walk. Between Victoria grinding on the floor right in front of me, making sure to stare right in my eyes, Damiano jumping in the crowd and grabbing Thomas, as well as Ethan being an overall god-like presence.
It was, however, over, as soon as it started. My face fell as they all waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and I turned around, preparing to leave, but was soon interrupted by a guard.
“Miss De Angelis said that she would like you to go backstage.”
That was the second time the girl’s actions shocked me. I certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the last as I followed the guard to the back.
“Ah, there you are, cucciola!” Her raspy voice exclaimed, as she headed towards me and grabbed my waist, leading me towards a changing room before I could even mutter a word.
“You, I me- mean ...Why? Like… I just thi-I” Damn it, where was my wittiness when I needed it? If I wasn’t already blushing, I probably looked like a sweaty tomato right now.
“Oh darling, I suggest you figure out how to talk, so I��ll know how to please you later.” She murmured in my ear, my knees almost giving up at her words.
“Oh god, umm, I- hi.” I managed to let out. I’m so glad I could ramble about crystals for 3 hours but when It comes to basic greetings my mind just dips. Lovely.
“We have about 15 minutes before we need to leave.” She said, grabbing my body and pulling me right against her, softly nibbling on my neck.
“Considering the way you fucked the stage earlier, I think even 5 would suffice.” Ah yes, my brain was back. Temporarily, though, because Victoria’s hungry lips smashed into mine in a fraction of a second, quickly turning me around so I would be prompted against the wall.
We moved in sync as she sucked every breath out of me and explored my mouth with her tongue. She bit my lip hard, and licked the reddish spot which appeared, before moving onto my neck.
She sucked on every inch of my skin, leaving deep red marks in her wake, which would definitely be an interesting subject of discussion once I got home. I couldn’t help but let out the most pathetic whines, which only seemed to turn Victoria on more.
“So fucking desperate puppy. All I do is dance a little on stage and you’re already willing to be on your knees for me.” She purred right against my breast, earning a deep moan from my treacherous mouth,
“What can I say, I like being a good girl.”
Her mouth bit into the soft skin which was now exposed, as my poor shirt was laying on the floor, discarded seconds ago. I whimpered and bucked my hips into the air, whining even more at the realisation that there was nothing there.
“Please..” I begged, as she kept kissing and licking around my hardened buds, heating me up even more.
“Take your pants off, then” She instructed, and I did it in a heartbeat, the piece of clothing joining my shirt.
The last thing I saw was the blonde’s head lower , before her tongue finally gave me what I wanted. She swiped it deeply inside of me, humming at the liquids pouring from me. Moving to my clit, she started circling around it as one of her long fingers thrusted deep inside of me.
“Fuck… Victoria…”
She added another finger and quickened her pace, as I rapidly approached my edge. God, no one did it as well as her. She was getting rougher by the second, biting at my thighs and sucking hardly, until she heard my breath catch, before I erupted in a mess of loud moans and screams.
I came hard on her hand as she guided me down to the ground, licking the tears falling from my eyes.
“You really do like being a good girl.” She whispered, cupping my cheek and pressing a soft kiss on my puffy lips.
“Oh I can be bad too.” I smirked, watching as her eyes darkened.”
“How about you return to the hotel with me, and we can explore that talent too…”
***
More than half an hour had passed, and I was sitting in an Uber right next to Victoria. While the band packed up their stuff, I hung out on the stage, eating a popsicle Damiano had given me.
“Do you have to be anywhere early tomorrow?” Victoria’s voice interrupted my thoughts, softly grazing her fingers over my thighs.
“Like I wouldn’t cancel them for you.” I responded, earning a soft chuckle from her.
“Excellent. How about we talk a little then, hmm?” She asked, pulling me closer to her.
“About what?” I asked, clearly thinking of innocent topics.
“Which was your favourite part about how I fucked you backstage.”
Oh. My. God. At this point, my brain had stopped working so many times, I probably had approximately 2 brain cells left. And damn, I answered in a corresponding fashion.
“I must say I enjoyed the talking.”
Victoria laughed, a devilish grin forming on her face, as I bet her mind filled with the dirtiest ideas.
“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll make sure we’ll do just enough talking.”
“Wait no- You know, I really liked the cum part too.” I tried to save myself, because let’s be honest, If this woman was anything, it was a tease.
“Considering how loud you were moaning, I bet you were.” She purred again, dragging her fingers further up my thighs.
“Tell me, what did you fantasise about most while watching me play?”
My mind went blank, but not really, as the thought of her grinding on my face while practicing the bass made its way into my head. God, I was royally fucked.
“Tell me, pet.” She snarled against my neck, grabbing it roughly and bending me over.
Her hand wandered down to my ass, grabbing it roughly before slithering back around to my stomach, and pulling me up again.
“Practicing your bass on my face.” I moaned out, red and embarrassed.
“A lovely imagination you have. I’ll make sure to consult it more often.”
“That won’t work. It seems to go blank around you.”
Victoria smirked at my confession and pressed me down onto her lap, slowly working her way under my shirt.
“I really like this. Where did you get it?”
“My mom.”
“She wears this?”
Fuck. “Oh, you meant the shirt?”
Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she pulled the material up, and pressed a wet kiss to both of my breasts. Oh god, this girl would kill me.
“My special thanks to her. And also my apologies, because I’ll fuck you till you scream and cry tonight.”
#victoria de angelis#vic x reader#maneskin fic#maneskin#ethan torchio#damiano david#thomas raggi#this was fun#smut
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