#i don't know if i'm going to post it on ao3 so let me know if you think it's worth it? i guess?
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Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x Reader
Part Four
Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.
Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
"They don't believe me." Your words shatter his heart completely.
"Don't worry about them. You're all that matters right now."
For hours, you've sat in the same spot at the dining room table, watching Spencer work with a tenacity you have never seen before. His eyebrows are drawn tightly together, his tongue darts out between his lips as he concentrates. Every so often he runs a hand through his hair and sighs.
You feel like you should be helping him, but you find yourself all too distracted by the simple fact that your stalker knows where you live. Who knows how long he's known, and what else he's done that you're not even aware of. The thought of a stranger walking around in your apartment makes you sick to your stomach.
But what really sends you over the edge is the fact that your stalker took an item of your clothing and then returned that same night to deliver the folder. He was right outside of your door while you sat petrified in your bedroom and he now possesses a part of you, no matter how small that part is.
The thought of what he's using your sweater for sends a chill down your spine and you shudder. Your sudden movement must have snapped Spencer out of his trance and he sets down the picture he was analyzing. You see the sleep-deprived bags under his eyes and know you likely don't look any better. His eyes soften as he looks you over.
"You should get some rest, you've been at this for hours." Your voice is scratchy from not speaking. Spencer is quick to shake his head.
"I'm fine, you should go lay down though, I know you didn't sleep all night." Though his guess is accurate, you won't admit it.
Before you answer, you take a second to let your eyes focus on his hand resting on the table. Under different circumstances you may even say the veins in his hand were oddly attractive, but you refuse to let that thought run wild and instead focus back on the matter at hand.
"No, really I'm fine." You fight the urge to yawn and you know you don't have him fooled in the slightest.
He stands straighter and crosses his arms across his chest. Like you're a child being reprimanded, he gives you a stern look, one that lets you know exactly what he's thinking. A silent exchange occurs only through the look in each other's eyes. His are golden-brown, like fresh honey, and they transport you to a time when things were simpler.
For a moment you're taken back to your first day at the BAU. You were fresh out of the academy, recommended to the team by your trainer. The nerves had your stomach twisted and upset, and you vividly recall walking through those glass doors for the first time; your heartbeat pounded in your ears with each step. Everyone had been welcoming, warm, and kind. And you very distinctly remember seeing the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. His hair was long, maybe just a touch messy, but it was the kind and reassuring smile he offered that let you know you had made the right decision to join.
And now, sitting only a few feet away from him, you can't help but to feel reminiscent. Your relationship with Spencer had grown far deeper than with anyone else on the team. You had been there when he was wrongfully imprisoned and now he's here when you're being stalked. The two of you celebrated the arrest of each unsub together and worked wonderfully as a team, playing to each other's strengths.
A feeling within your chest flutters, one that you've been trying long and hard to suppress. And it had worked for a long time, that is until very recently.
"I know you're not fine. Please, just come on." His voice is soft and he offers his hand out to you. Not thinking twice, you take his hand in yours and let him lead you to the sofa.
Without you even having to ask, he makes sure that the curtains are closed and you watch as he scans the street for anyone who looks out of place before he sits next to you. He's warm and inviting, and if given the opportunity you know you could fall asleep in his arms.
You lean your head on his shoulder instead, and he wraps his arm around you, hugging you closer to his side. His hand rubs up and down your arm, comforting you as you allow your eyes to flutter shut.
Not another word is shared as you feel yourself being lulled to sleep by Spencer's presence. Just having him near is enough to make you feel safe and secure. You vaguely feel him lay you down on the couch, and you feel a pressure to the top of your head. And you're not sure if you're hallucinating or half-dreaming, but you swear you could hear him whisper to you,
"I promise that I will find who is doing this to you."
-----
Hotch arrives at the office early in the morning before anyone else. His signature scowl is plastered on his face and he's deep in thought about what Derek presented to him yesterday. While the system clearly shows that you were the one who made all of the alterations to the case reports, something deep within Hotch tells him that you're innocent.
There's just no way you would go to these great lengths for simple recognition. But it seems the others on the team are convinced you're behind all of this. Their insistence is the only thing giving him pause. He makes a mental note to follow up with them again sometime today, perhaps there's more that wasn't initially disclosed. There's just no way they've all been swayed by simple electronic records, ones they know are hackable.
Hotch sits at his desk and looks over the reports again and again, hoping that the answer jumps out at him. And it's on the fifth re-read that he notices something. It's a very small detail, but he thinks it could be an important one. He grabs a highlighter and begins marking up the reports.
After a few hours, Hotch walks down to Penelope's office. When she opens the door she's surprised to see Hotch on the other side, but she knows that whatever he's here for is something serious; Hotch doesn't make these visits often.
"Can you show me the video footage on the night that the document changes were made?" He asks, nodding to Penelope's plethora of monitors.
"Certainly sir." She says and sits down, pulling up the footage. She's watched it a hundred times, she knows this video like the back of her hand.
Hotch sits next to her and she plays the video. Just as she watched with you, and the others, the video has been tampered with. The shadows on the ground make that obvious.
"So someone got into the computer system and altered the footage." Hotch states the obvious.
"It appears so, yes." Penelope says, nervous about where this conversation is headed.
In the past day Penelope has had the same conversation with just about every other member of the BAU. Each of them didn't want to believe you had orchestrated this elaborate scheme, but they couldn't ignore the evidence.
Everyone was reluctant to admit that they believed you were responsible; Spencer was the only one to flat out deny your involvement. He was adamant about it, and his passion caused Penelope to second guess the others.
Of course she would never say that out loud, but it caused her to do some digging. She remembered how upset you were about the flowers, and she wasn't sold on the narrative that you had planned this for recognition and praise.
"Is it possible for you to-"
"Already ahead of you sir. I got into the system and looked for interferences. And it shows that she was the one who got into the camera systems as well, only a few minutes after the documents had all been changed. And it was her badge that scanned into the office." Penelope cuts Hotch off, eager to share what she learned from her sleuthing.
Hotch nods his head shortly and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. There are only a few people in this building with the kind of expertise to be able to pull something like this off. But he is apprehensive to accuse anyone of anything without further, concrete proof.
"Can you send this to me, along with the edit history?" Hotch stands from the seat and goes to leave Penelope's office, who sends him the video right away.
Being no stranger to situations like these, Hotch knows he has to keep this investigation under wraps. Especially if the team has seemingly turned their back on you. The BAU has had their fair share of rough moments, and during those moments the team always stuck together. But for some reason, this caused everyone to doubt you. It just isn't adding up to Hotch.
He returns to his office and looks out into the bullpen. Everyone is working diligently and he plans on how to handle this. While he forms a plan, he picks up his phone and makes an important call.
-----
"What do you mean I can't go in?" You ask Spencer, who just got off the phone with Hotch. Spencer sighs and sets his phone down on the coffee table. Running a hand through his hair he answers,
"Hotch said it's best if you stay out of the office while he figures out what's going on. He didn't say much about specifics, just that it would be best if you didn't come in." The words feel like a hot knife being pushed through your heart. Does this mean you're under investigation? Will you be suspended from the bureau?
You sit down on the couch, shocked about what's happening. As if being stalked wasn't bad enough, it might actually cost you your job? Not only your job, but some of the closest friends you've ever had?
Rubbing your eyes, you try to make sense of it all, but you just can't. There has to be something you're missing. There's a missing piece of the puzzle, that one piece would complete the picture. But now, it's just fragmented and incoherent.
"What am I missing? There were the flowers, the document changes, the re-tagged evidence, the tampered video, and now the folder." You speak, mostly to yourself but you know Spencer is listening as well.
You rub your temples as you try to connect the dots. Obviously it tells you that there's a stalker, and the evidence points in the direction of that stalker working for the bureau but you cannot figure out why the stalker would take those specific actions.
"Whatever it is, we will find it and we will find who is doing this." Spencer's voice is low and even, the determination is obvious. He moves to sit next to you, his leg only a few inches from yours.
You turn your head and look at him. His hair is disheveled from the amount of times he's run a hand through it in frustration, but it's charming.
"And what if we don't? Spencer you know how these things end." You simply state. As you say the words you realize you're not speaking as a profiler, but rather like a victim. And you're not sure how that makes you feel.
Spencer places his hand on top of your thigh and gives a reassuring squeeze; your heart races with the contact and you try to hide the feeling so that he can't perceive it on your face. The way his eyes dart down to your cheeks and lips make you think you didn't do a great job of hiding it. His tongue wets his lips and he goes to move a piece of your hair behind your ear.
"I don't care how many times I have to repeat myself. But I promise you that I will not rest until we find who is doing this to you. I will hunt down the man who is making your life miserable, and I will make him pay for what he's done." His words are laced with malice and venom. You nod your head and swallow, unable to think of anything coherent to say.
After a few moments, Spencer squeezes your thigh again before he gets back up to analyze the folder for the thousandth time. As he walks away, your heart swells with gratitude, and your skin buzzes where his hand was.
-----
Spencer walks into work with a feeling he can't quite place residing in his chest. It's something raw, and intense. His focus feels like it's been dialed to 100.
While he felt bad for leaving you at home alone, he knew that he would be able to do his best work here, without distractions. He had dedicated every piece of evidence to memory and was sure he would see the full picture soon.
But until then, he's got a job to do. And that job is to track down whoever is making your life a living nightmare. Spencer is unable to find the words to describe how upset he is every time he sees you looking over your shoulder in fear, or fending off sleep because of anxiety.
He hadn't felt a rage like this in a long time.
Spencer drops his bag on his desk and walks to Hotch's office. During the call Hotch made to tell you to stay home, he had also told Spencer that they needed to talk as soon as he got in. He isn't sure whether or not it's in your defense, but he knows it has to deal with your situation.
Hotch's back is turned when Spencer enters and as he turns around Spencer sees the file in hand and the scowl on Hotch's face.
"Please, sit." Hotch takes a seat and motions for Spencer to take the one across from the desk. Spencer tries to get a glimpse of the file Hotch has, but he's unsuccessful.
"We have some things to discuss." Hotch speaks again with a sigh. Spencer nods, agreeing. He only hopes Hotch believes you're innocent as well, or else he fears this discussion might become heated.
"You've probably already seen the electronic records with her credentials and the tampered video, I assume?" Hotch questions.
"Yes, I've seen them." Spencer doesn't give more information than necessary, not until he knows which side Hotch is on.
"Give me your unbiased professional opinion." Hotch leans forward on his desk, fingers interlaced and elbows resting on the wood. Spencer blinks a few times, trying to formulate an opinion void of personal feelings.
What he realizes is that he's been handling this entire case almost entirely with his personal feelings. But he recovers quickly and soon finds the words he's looking for.
"I think that she is being stalked by someone who works here. But not a regular agent, I believe it's someone pretty high up." Spencer says. Hotch nods, stoic expression not revealing anything.
"And why do you believe that?" He tilts his head just slightly to the right, something that tells Spencer that Hotch is genuinely interested in what he has to say. It's one of his small giveaways.
"Well, there are only a few people here that would have the expertise and ability to access and change credential logs like that, and to be able to get into the system and change the video. It would also take someone within the bureau to know where she's located at within the building, to send the flowers to. And whoever it is would have enough working knowledge to know how to retag evidence properly." Spencer rattles off, becoming more and more confident with his theory as he speaks. It's like saying this all out loud is helping him connect the dots.
Hotch takes a moment and nods while he studies Spencer's face and body language. It's usual profiler behavior and Spencer has seen him do this hundreds of times before with other people.
"But what else?" Hotch eventually asks. Spencer's shoulders tense up and his eyebrows scrunch together.
"What do you mean?" Spencer questions, recounting the evidence and what he explained. What more could there possibly be to say?
"You raised you hand like you had something else to add onto your explanation, but then you said nothing. What else were you going to say?" Spencer curses Hotch for being so observant just this once. With a sigh, Spencer decides it's easier to just lay everything out as plainly as possible.
"I know she didn't do it because I was with her the nights before everything happened, for the most part." Spencer doesn't elaborate any further, wanting to keep your relationship with him as much to himself as possible. Hotch's eyebrows raise in surprise, but he recovers quickly.
"I see. You'll be glad to hear I don't think she did any of this either. But what we think and what we can prove are two different things here." Spencer is all too familiar with this premise.
In fact, the similarities between this and his wrongful imprisonment are beginning to share too many things in common. You're being framed just as he was, evidence was planted and tampered with, and you're scared out of your mind because you don't know how this is going to end.
But not only that, he remembers in vivid detail how you helped him find sobriety after Tobias Hankel, how you stayed by his side through the entire journey when he was terrified. And he remembers how supportive you were when Maeve died right in front of him. You had shown him love and compassion when he thought neither of those things existed. It was you who stuck beside him through it all.
Spencer remembers the fear of being framed and the anxieties that accompanies the unknown. He hates that you're experiencing this, and he so badly wants to take it all away. And he knows the only way he can do that is to catch whoever is doing this. Now it's his turn to return the favor, to stick with you until the end. With strong resolve, he leans forward in his seat.
"So what's our next move?" Spencer asks Hotch, ready to put in as much work is needed.
Hotch nods his head and explains to Spencer his plan. It's simple, but should be effective.
-----
Hours later, Spencer sits at his desk, trying to look like he's busy. All he can think about is how you're doing back home, he worries that you're scared and wants nothing more than to run back to you; to keep you safe and away from the man wreaking havoc.
His daydreams are cut short as the agent from the IT department walks through the doors. The agent walks into Hotch's office where Hotch asks him to see if he can find any evidence of credential fraud.
The agent sits down at your desk and Spencer can't help but notice how nervous he looks. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are darting every which way as he acquaints himself with your space. Spencer's eyes narrow in suspicion and decides to keep a close eye on the man.
Spencer finds an old report and acts busy, when in reality he's watching the man's every move with careful and clinical eyes. He notices how the agent's eyes linger on the flowers sitting on your desk, and how he keeps momentarily looking at your photos.
Alarm bells are sounding off in Spencer's mind and he has to remind himself to keep calm. He reminds himself of what's at stake and forces a nonchalant demeanor. His knuckles turn white with how tightly he's gripping the paper in his hands and he's thankful the agent isn't a profiler, otherwise it would be a dead giveaway about just how angry Spencer is.
The agent works diligently, and then Spencer sees it. The man's shoulders go rigid, he holds a breath, and his eyes grow ever so slightly larger. He swallows and looks around the office before returning his focus on the screen in front of him. Spencer pretends not to notice.
While the agent is obviously dealing with some sort of turmoil, Spencer is envisioning lunging across the table at him and demanding answers. When he realizes his train of thought, Spencer knows he hasn't had these kinds of violent thoughts since he spent time in prison.
And somehow, he's okay with it. He knows that if it led to finding answers that he would be okay doing whatever it takes. He's also quick to understand the lengths he's willing to go for you and the risks he's fully prepared to take.
Abruptly and without a word, the agent returns to Hotch's office, just out of earshot from Spencer. And within minutes the agent is hightailing it out of the office, not even sparing a passing glance.
Curiosity gets the better of him and Spencer goes to speak with Hotch almost immediately. Sitting behind his desk with a troubled look on his face, Hotch's eyes flick to Spencer as he enters the room.
"Please, close the door and have a seat. We have some things to discuss. There's been a slight change in plans." Spencer closes the door quickly before taking a seat in front of Hotch's desk.
Spencer's heart beats heavily in his chest and it's like he can feel the blood pumping through his veins. Before Hotch says a word, Spencer knows that whatever he is about to say is nothing good.
"What happened?" Spencer barely recognizes the serious tone of his voice. Hotch sighs,
"The agent told me he found evidence of AES 128 bit encryption." Hotch says and Spencer's heart sinks.
"Rijndael Algorithm. It's never been cracked before." Spencer says, his heart rate increasing as his mind processes what this means for the case.
"I'm going to put Garcia up to the challenge. But I believe you're right, whoever is doing this is very intelligent and has a lot of access to our systems. With that said, I'm going to have her placed under twenty-four hour surveillance." Hotch says matter of factly. Spencer shakes his head,
"I'll be there at night, she wouldn't want to be constantly watched like that." He tries to advocate for the least invasive surveillance possible. Deep down he knows that the twenty-four hour monitoring is safest, he also knows you're likely to protest about it.
"I believe in your abilities to keep her safe. I'll put in for twelve hour surveillance, with additional overtime as needed." Hotch nods his head and Spencer thanks him.
The only thing on his mind now is getting back to you as quickly as he possibly can.
-----
You jump as loud knocks on the front door echo through your apartment. Normally you would go and answer it without a second thought, but you catch yourself worrying about who is on the other side.
Three more knocks sound off and you approach the door cautiously.
"Hey it's just me." Spencer's voice can be heard through the door and you release the breath you had been holding.
You answer the door for him and he wastes no time coming in. He turns and locks the door as soon as he's inside and he doesn't bother taking his shoes off before he's buzzing around. He's closing the curtains and pulling the couch away from the window like a mad man with thirty seconds to complete the mission.
"Spencer what's going on?" You feel a new wave of anxiety bubble up within you. You've never seen him act like this before.
Spencer stops moving around and you see him take a deep breath. He rubs his eye with the palm of his hand, and your eyes grow wide. You've seen that mannerism before, but you haven't seen it in so long. Something bad happened while he was at work today. Something very bad.
When he opens his eyes he walks up to you, leaving only a few inches between the two of you. He places his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.
You see a tenderness in them, but you also notice almost a crazed intensity, like his mind is working a hundred miles a second and he's having trouble keeping up with himself.
"I will explain everything shortly. But please let me do this first." You nod wordlessly and watch as he walks back into the living space. He tosses blankets over the curtain rods to make sure nobody can see through the windows.
He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and moves the couch even farther away from the window. And just for a split second your fear is forgotten as you admire the way his biceps flex under the material of his shirt.
There's something about his behavior that seems different, and you can't help but be attracted to it. Like a moth to a flame or a bee to clovers, your eye is drawn to every move, every flex of a muscle.
After he's satisfied with the changes, he walks over to the dining table and opens the folder. You had put away all of the photographs earlier, you couldn't stand the feeling of having them out in the open, it was like they were taunting you.
Spencer spreads the materials back out across the table and leans forward. You see his eyes dart over all of the pictures and the notes before he stands back to his full height and tugs at his tie, loosening it from his neck.
Your eyes stay glued to him as you step forward. His eyes glance from the photos to you and you can see how his face instantly softens.
"Will you tell me what happened now?" You ask and he nods, gesturing for you to join him on the couch.
You listen intently as he explains that Hotch believes you're innocent and that he had called in one of the IT workers. And a fresh wave of nausea came over you as he explained the encryption that was found. This most definitely is not just some guy, no, this is the work of someone sophisticated and organized.
"But, listen to me, I will not rest until we find him. Believe me, there is no obstacle too challenging. I promise you that I will not stop until you're safe again." Spencer says following a few moments of tense silence.
You've done so well to hold your emotions together, well, the best you could anyways. Up until this point it was only fear that you felt, but that fear has morphed into several other things much more terrifying than simple fear. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling and blink rapidly to keep from crying.
Your breaths are shaky and you look down at your lap. This is no longer just affecting you, but the whole team as well. Spencer and Hotch are willing to go out on a limb to prove your innocence while the others are convinced of your guilt. You feel guilty about the anger you harbor for your teammates who don't believe you. And truthfully, you don't know how you will be able to move forward after this.
This stalker has already taken from you something near and dear to your heart; they've taken your team.
It's then, when you accept the reality of what is, that you let the first tear fall. It's full of anger and sadness and remorse, and just a little bit of love.
Spencer envelopes you in his arms and the dam breaks. He holds you close to his chest, your tears staining his shirt. But he doesn't seem to mind. No, instead he hugs you tightly and presses the most delicate of kisses to the top of your head. You grab onto the front of his shirt and let the emotions finally break free.
-----
Spencer cradles you in his arms and as you cry it breaks his heart just a little more with each sob. He hates seeing you in such distress. Once you finally calm down a little, you sniffle and look up at him with wide, watery eyes.
"They don't believe me." Your words shatter his heart completely.
"Don't worry about them. You're all that matters right now." He says, running a hand up and down your back to try and soothe you.
But your words remind him that he needs to speak with the team about this situation. Even he can't believe they've apparently turned against you so easily. It makes his blood boil; the team is supposed to stick with each other, not work against one another. He does his best to suppress his own anger towards them, knowing that if he expresses his distress that it will likely only make you more upset.
Instead, he focuses on nothing except you in his arms, and his anger dissipates almost immediately. He doesn't think he'll ever admit it out loud, but he secretly loves the way you cling to him. He loves how you trust him, how you confide in him, how you've taken care of him and stuck beside him through thick and thin. He loves the way your smile brightens his day, and how even the smallest glance sends butterflies soaring through him.
He presses another kiss to the top of your head as he realizes and admits to himself for the first time that he's in love with you.
He is absolutely and undeniably in love with you. And God help whoever threatens his love.
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Too Hot To Handle (Xavier/Reader)
Tags: Fluff and Smut, Fem Reader
Posted on AO3!
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"I'm serious!" You begin to laugh a little, too, running your hands back down his chest to his stomach.
"I know you are," Xavier smiles. "I just think you're sexier."
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Sometimes, your boyfriend forgets just how sexy he is.
No, it's more like he doesn't know how much you want him sometimes.
Laying in bed, you watch him dry his hair in the bathroom. Clad in only grey sweatpants (such a sluttish choice, he must be doing this on purpose), you watch him shyly under the covers. His body was heavenly, strong arm muscles flexing as he moved the towel over his face. You had a clear view of his torso as he reached up to get the back of his neck, abs still slightly wet from his shower.
And his V line, GOD! You clenched your legs together as you raked your eyes over him again and again, letting your eyes follow the light, happy trail to those god-forsaken sweatpants, which did nothing to hide the outline of his dick. Why was he so attractive?
"Why are you staring at me like that?" You're snapped out of your daze. Xavier's locked eyes with you, giving you a half smile. So innocent. By now, you could tell when he was looking at you with 0% lust and 100% love (a rare occurrence), and that was right now as he finished up in the bathroom and walked towards you. "Did I take too long in the shower?"
"No…" You mumbled out, brows furrowing in frustration. Why wasn't he fucking you right now?
His gaze turned concerned. You shuffled over to let him sit next to you, leaning on your side and giving him a frown. He placed a hand on your cheek, gently thumbing it.
"Then what's the matter, bunny?" He whispered low.
That tipped the scale for you. "I want you." You say it shyly and immediately feel dumb. As if he hasn't made you moan more obscene things as he literally beat his cock into you. But he knows what you mean, and right now, the level of lust behind his eyes was at a good 500%, give or take.
"Is that why you were staring at me so hard?" He chuckled, and you nearly cum right there and then. He leans down to press a deep kiss on your lips, the scent of his shampoo wafting over you as well. He pulls away, going to grab a pack of condoms from the drawer of the nightstand (ultra-thin, EXTRA LARGE) and a tube of lube. "Why didn't you just start with that?"
You don't answer as he moves onto the bed, shifting the sheets off of you and settling between your legs. You run your hands up his sculpted chest, fingers lightly ghosting over his collarbones, to snaking to each side of his neck. Your thumb lightly presses over his Adam's apple before you're interrupted by a hand grabbing yours.
Xavier pressed your hand over his cheeks, pulling it over his lips to press light kisses to your palm. "Feeling shy tonight?" He teases, azure eyes filled with mirth.
Warmth spread through your fast as you looked away again, but you nodded. "You're just really sexy." You know you shouldn't be, but you're embarrassed at how embarrassed you are in front of him right now. He really makes you horny by just standing there.
You hear Xavier laugh and shoot him a look, which he instantly wipes off by pressing his lips to yours again. You could feel him smiling through the kiss and push him back slightly.
"I'm serious!" You begin to laugh a little, too, running your hands back down his chest to his stomach, stopping at the cloth of his pants.
"I know you are," Xavier smiles. "I just think you're sexier." His hand run up your abdomen to under your breast. He softly grasps them, running his thumbs over the hardening nipples through your bralette. "All the time, really, but especially when you're like this."
He grips one of your thighs, pulling it up to get closer to you. He leans in again, this time going after your neck to press deep kisses against your pulse. "Want me to prove it?" You gasp as he pushes against you, his hard length pressing directly into your core through the clothed shorts.
"Already?" You tease, feeling a slight confidence boost.
Xavier pulls away, moving to pull your bralette up and off you. "That's all you, beautiful."
As soon as you rid yourself of the bralette, Xavier's hand returns to your breast. You shiver as he pinches both nipples, and Xavier sighs in delight. His hips rolled against yours instinctively, making you whine his name.
"If you keep calling me like that…" Xavier groans out. He grabs the top of your shorts quickly, pushing them down with urgency. Like himself, you didn't have any underwear on. The shorts were still too much in the way, so Xavier got to work quickly, pulling your left leg over to your right so he could slide them off completely.
He stops for a second to admire your naked form below him, grinding his dick into your ass. "Being shy around me, when you look like this?" He whispers, sliding his hand over the swell of your ass.
You whine again, grinding against him. "Xavier…" you groan impatiently. A sharp smack against your ass made you yelp.
Xavier smiled down at you, as gently as ever, as he rubbed the stinging spot on your ass. "Use your words, bunny." He chides.
"Please Xav, fuck me good, please." You moan out, gripping your own tits for some sort of stimulation.
He starts to pull his sweats down, very quickly at that. "Spread open for me baby, I'll be right there."
You do as you're told, laying on your back and hooking your arms under your knees, bringing them all the way up to your chest. His eyes are on you, on full display, as yours is on his as you watch his dick spring free. His tip red and leaking sweat pre-cum already. You snake a hand down to your wet hole, dipping a finger in and dragging it over your clit.
Xavier fumbled with the condom, having to pry himself from watching you pleasure yourself to put it on correctly. He grabs the lube, coating his fingers in it. He draws closer to you, coating his dick in lube as well.
"Such a good girl, Gods, you drive me crazy." He murmured as he pushed his still slick fingers into you, drawing moans from you as he rubbed your insides. He pulls his hand out, moving to press your legs back further.
He slides his dick in with ease, and you immediately arch your back at the pleasure of him filling you up. You grab at his shoulders for stability, moaning loudly. Xavier hums in pleasure as he bottoms out, immediately pulling back out and starting a steady pace into you.
His lips find yours again, the kiss being a sloppy mix of tongue and saliva, the both of you moaning in pleasure as he hits deeper and deeper into you. Sweet nothings fall out of your mouth for him.
How good he's filling you up, how good his dick feels inside you, and how fucking good he looks while doing it; it all riles Xavier up more, and now he's slamming into you at an unrestrained pace.
Streaks of hot pleasure spread through your entire body, making your toes curl, and your entire body shake and clench. You didn't even have time to let Xavier know until your orgasm had your body jolting repeatedly, your hands gripping his lean shoulders so hard your knuckles ache, and you swear you've bruised him.
Even if he didn't see the stunning sight of your orgasm, he could for sure feel it. You grasped around him so tightly it made his pace stutter. He placed a hand on your cheek, making you look at him as he came as well, voice letting out shaky moans as his dick twitched inside of you.
It took you both a good minute to catch your breaths, reveling in each other's afterglow.
Xavier gently pulled himself out as he massaged your legs. He leaned in for one last kiss before leaving the bed to discard the filled condom and returned back with wipes and a towel. Before he could get to work cleaning you up, you sat up and pulled him down in a bear hug.
"I love you Xav, like, a lot." You smiled at him, rubbing his arm where crescents rose up.
His smile, in return, was as radiant as himself. "I love you too. Now let's get cleaned up, I'm in the mood for cuddles… and sleep."
#love and deepspace#xavier love and deepspace#l&ds#l&ds xavier#lads x reader#love and deep space#l&ds x reader#lauve and deepspace#im so normal about him
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Can I ask what your ✨Aki journey✨ was like? I’m a Aki girlie but you clearly love Aki more than any blog I’ve ever seen (purrr) When did you start becoming interested in him? Was it an aHA moment or did it develop over time? I’m really curious!!! What inspired you to start this blog? I live, laugh, love backstories 🫶🏾❤️🔥
YES I would be so happy to answer this!!!!!!!
so before I read chainsaw man, I knew next to nothing about it, I wasn't really a manga reader in general to be honest but I started getting into it because I wanted to get caught up with jujutsu kaisen after finishing the anime. when I did, I really enjoyed jjk, I wanted to read more manga and a friend suggested I read chainsaw man because it's similar. I was like okay... a lot of people are into it... it looks cool... why not.
and when I started reading and I got to that third chapter and I saw aki... I literally said to myself: yeah, he is going to be my favorite. because he's exactly my type — the suit, the hair tied up so it's long and pretty when he takes it down, the SMOKING??? THE PIERCINGS????? I thought his hair was silly but adorable, his personality was stern but quirky and likable, his kon power was so cool. he was just so cute and hot and definitely my type of character.
but really, even though aki was always my favorite character from the start, my obsession truly began when I finished the manga. aki's arc is just so good... I fell in love with him the whole way through but especially after the manga was over... I loved watching him grow as a character, he just feels so real and relatable personality wise and story wise. he's immensely flawed but kindhearted to his core. he's so human. I love how he's emotional and soft and the conclusion to his arc is genuinely my favorite thing in any piece of media ever, it's so bittersweet and compelling. (and I'm a mess for that bittersweet shit okay)
anyway after I read chainsaw man for the first time I was feeling a mix of emotions between "wow that was the greatest thing ever" and "what the fuck did I just read" but more than anything I yearned for more aki, and so I read it a second time almost immediately after, and then the aki brain infection just grew worse and worse.... was screenshotting every panel of him... I read it a third time... a fourth time in the colored version to collect more panels......... I started my blog over a year ago to post fanfic and rant about aki and the rest is history
#I love this question#I also think it's important to say#albeit it's a bit silly#when I read chainsaw man I was going through a pretty hard time in my life#I'd gone through a bad breakup and I felt very lost#I was reading a lot of manga because I needed something to do to get my mind off things#I think that's part of the reason why I got attached to aki so quickly...#but he means a lot to me because of that#aki helped me to become myself again#also I'm sure I've said this before#but I started writing fanfic because I'd read all the fanfic of aki and#I still needed more#I thought it would be fun bc I always enjoyed writing but it'd been years since I did#suddenly on a random night at 3 in the morning I was like#you know what... I can't sleep... I know how to write... I can make my own aki content... let's do it#and I wrote that first fic like there was no tomorrow#(don't read it btw it sucked BAHAHA)#I posted it on ao3 for fun expecting no one to care but when just a handful of people read it and said they liked it I was overjoyed#I'm grateful I started writing again... I'm glad I get to do what I love and write about what makes me happy#and people actually enjoy it?? THAT'S CRAZY#sorry for ranting too much#can't wait to see where this journey will continue to take me#ask mags
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any advice about how to deal with posting a fic and getting radio silence? I know ppl aren’t owed engagement ofc, but I feel embarrassed at having spent so long on something no one cares about, and although I liked thinking about the characters and fandom before (and was considering writing more about them), now I can’t think about it without feeling that overpowering embarrassment 😭 part of me wants to delete the fic, but that would mean having to open ao3 and look at it again LMAO
sorry for the venting, I know this is probably a me problem, but has anyone else felt this, and if so, is there any way to make this pervasive shame go away??
*hugs* This is a very painful thing to experience and there isn't really any way to make it just go away, unfortunately. However, you can reflect on it a bit, when you're ready to.
Writing and posting are separate activities. If you've enjoyed writing the story but you haven't enjoyed posting it to the Archive, you can always continue writing just for yourself. This may or may not be something you'd enjoy - you know better than I do whether some of your enjoyment came from the anticipation of a reaction to your work.
Try to analyze where your embarrassment is coming from. Is it worrying that your story was poorly written? A lack of a reaction doesn't mean that the story is bad. Being unpopular doesn't mean it's bad, either. If your story is good to you, then it's a good story.
Is your embarrassment from feeling like you were "caught trying." Is it a cringe at the idea that you put effort into something that someone else doesn't (appear to) find valuable?
Is it actually embarrassment at all? Are you feeling a different kind of hurt instead? Did you hope that someone in particular would read your story and now you feel ignored? Did you hope to be embraced by your community and now you feel shunned?
These are difficult questions that I'm asking and you might not want to think about them right now. That's okay. You don't need to if you don't want to. You can definitely delete the fic and pretend it never happened. Or you can log out of that AO3 account and create a new one and never look back. Maybe you just need to take a week or a month off for a hiatus of sorts and when the ache isn't as bad, you'll be able to face it all again.
When I felt this way, it was because I felt like I'd put something into my community and that I'd been ignored. But since that time, I've found one person who gives me all of the community support I used to get from an entire fandom, and now when I post something on AO3 I don't actually need a response anymore. I get all of the fun and excitement and validation etc from my conversations and RP threads with my best friend.
Once you've got a little distance from the pain of this moment, try to figure out what it is that you were hoping to get and then figure out how you can get it. Maybe it's through posting fic to AO3, but maybe it's not.
Let's see what others can suggest. This is not something you're experiencing alone, anon. So very many of your fellow fan writers have experienced this too ❤️
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and baby makes three
(the reboot)
bucky barnes x fem reader
words: 11.3k
warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, pining, smut, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming (kind of??), trigger warning for having troubles with getting pregnant. it's still super fuckin soft despite all of that though, i swear.
a/n: okay so it's currently 6am as i'm typing this and i haven't been to sleep yet bc i decided to just heavily edit this instead of rewrite it bc i'm lazy i guess idk. this was posted originally back in 2021 i believe and it's still on ao3 it's just orphaned rip. i promise i'll be writing and posting new stuff soon ok pls have faith in me and cheer me on bc it's hard and scary and i don't wanna disappoint anybody :( ANYWAY, as usual, any and all mistakes are my own. if i've missed anything important pls let me know so i can correct it. feedback is encouraged (pls) and appreciated (i am begging...)
The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and very unlikely. Sure, you liked kids well enough, but having one of your own…
It’s a thought that’s sat in a corner deep in your mind, buried beneath a million other impossible concepts; a thought that you’ve only ever glanced over and never gave your full attention, having ruled it out ages ago as something you just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.
And then, on a day like any other, it pushes its way to the forefront of your mind, making itself known and unwilling to leave.
You’re going into the clothing store to find a new cardigan after your most favorite one got eaten by the dryer. Usually you’re a single-minded shopper, walking into a store with tunnel vision and on a mission to get what you need and that’s it.
Today, however, you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander on your way to the sweater section. Your gaze just so happens to land on the baby clothes… and your steps falter. It’s there that you see it, a tiny, pink onesie with a sleeping teddy bear printed on the front, displayed on an even tinier hanger. There’s matching pants with teddy bears all over them and ruffles on the butt and all your brain can muster up is cutecutecutecutecute.
Your feet carry you closer and before you realize what you’re doing you pick up the outfit, letting out a coo when you realize the teddy bear is fuzzy, softly rubbing your thumb across it. Somehow, you walk out of the store, not with a new cardigan, but with the cute baby outfit and a bow you thought looked adorable with it.
It’s not until you get home that it hits you, that you bought baby clothes for a baby you don’t even have.
The feeling that rushes through you is hard to describe. Shame? Embarrassment?
...Yearning?
No. Definitely not. Nope.
There’s absolutely no yearning going on here, not for a baby. You’ve never even had that desire before and you certainly don’t see yourself having it now. You shake your head to clear it, telling yourself you’ll take it back tomorrow.
Except you don’t take it back. You conveniently “forget” and it stays shoved on the top shelf in your hall closet. You pretend you don’t pause in front of said closet throughout the following days—weeks—chewing on the inside of your cheek and staring at the door like you can see through the wood at the evidence of your impulsive purchase.
It gets harder to ignore, though, when you start getting ads for baby clothing brands. And baby toys, bottles, handy little gadgets for new parents, nursery decor… It’s endless.
Then, as if it wasn’t already bad enough, all of your childhood friends start popping out babies like it’s a brand new trend. You don't think you've seen your social media this flooded with pregnancy announcements and baby arrivals, ever. Your emotions are mixed; happy for them, and for their excitement, but there’s also a weird discomfort settled in your stomach.
You hesitate to be that person who thinks the universe is trying to tell you something, but you do wonder. Why else would you suddenly have these feelings? Why else would there be baby stuff everywhere you look now?
It brings on other thoughts, as well. In this day and age, it’s not too unusual for women to have babies without being married, or without a significant other at all. There is the pressure, still, to at least be in a relationship, but considering you’ve been practically in love with one of your closest friends for the last two years, it’s safe to say that you’re tragically single, so having a baby with someone is out of the question.
And god, do you even want a baby?
As soon as the thought crosses your mind, with a sudden clarity that hits you like a ton of bricks, you realize you do. It feels like a freight train has slammed into you. Your mind’s eye supplies you with images of a swollen belly and wide smile, a precious baby wrapped in a soft blanket, cradled in your arms, a gummy grin and happy giggle.
Emotion consumes you then, longing like you’ve never felt in your life, chest aching with how badly you want that.
It’s not as if you’re too young. You’re plenty old enough and you’ve got a secure job. You don’t subscribe to that whole biological clock nonsense, but you do feel that if you are going to potentially have a baby, it might be better to do it now while you’re still in relatively good health.
You groan, dropping your face into your open palms, the movie you'd been watching to try and distract yourself long forgotten as it continues to play on the television.
This is a lot to think about, you ponder to yourself. Taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, you decide the mature thing to do is give yourself more time to ruminate on it. Having a baby is no small decision. You need to be absolutely certain it’s what you want. It’s going to change your entire life, everything, and you’d be responsible for a new life. So, you’ll have to give yourself a few months to decide and then you can go from there.
***
You’re scrolling through yet another article on your laptop, engrossed in every detail of the process of artificial insemination and the symptoms and side effects that come with it. So engrossed, in fact, that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, the door opening and closing, and the heavy footfalls that follow.
It’s only when Bucky asks, “Whatcha reading?” that you are even aware of his presence.
You startle so hard that your knee slams into the underside of your table. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your knee and your wildly beating heart, you close your laptop with a snap and turn to Bucky.
“You could knock,” you grouse.
“Why give me a key, then?” he retorts, unapologetic.
You roll your eyes and grumble under your breath, “Clearly, it was a mistake.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
Brows furrowed, you ask, “What?”
He gestures to your laptop. “What were you reading? Your nose was nearly smushed against the screen.”
You blink, trying to think of a reasonable excuse and coming up empty.
“Nothing,” is all your brilliant mind can supply.
Bucky’s eyes narrow for a few seconds, and you pray to every higher power and all that is holy and good that he won’t press further. You remain frozen under Bucky’s suspicious stare, hearing that Old West shootout music playing in your mind.
Thankfully, it seems the deities are feeling indulgent, as Bucky chooses let it go.
He holds up the bags he carried in. “I brought lunch.”
You perk up instantly. “Did you go to that one place—?”
“With the fried rice you like so much, yes,” he finishes for you, smiling.
“You’re the best,” you sigh, stomach rumbling eagerly.
“I know,” he replies, solemn and dramatic like the idiot he is.
He begins taking out the styrofoam boxes and chattering on about something dumb Steve did the other day, and you mean to listen, you really do. It’s just. That article is still lingering in your brain. There’s so many steps and hassles. Plus, it’s not cheap. It would be a hefty investment.
You’d only researched it because, after months of contemplating the pros and cons of having a baby, you determined the pros far outweigh the cons. But then the problem was: how to even make it happen.
Your first thought was that you didn’t think you’d let just any man come inside you, for many obvious reasons. You’d shuddered to think of it. Then there was surrogacy, which is admirable and wonderful, but you’d quickly dismissed that idea as you realized you wanted to actually carry the baby yourself. So that led you to artificial insemination. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet. There was something a little too clinical about choosing a random man’s sperm to have injected into your uterus.
Bucky’s still speaking as he grabs plates and forks, unaware of your inner monologue. “And then he got Sam involved,” he’s saying, scooping out food onto the plates, “which, as you know, I always think is a dumb thing to do.”
“I want to have a baby,” you blurt, eyes widening at your outburst.
Bucky fumbles with the spoon, sending fried rice flying, muttering curses as he tries to catch it with no luck as it lands with a dull clunk on the table. The silence that follows is loud. It feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait for him to just say something, anything.
“This is… quite a mess I’ve made,” Bucky finally observes. His voice is a bit higher than usual. “Where’s your vacuum? Actually, do you have one of those mini ones? Or would Clorox wipes be better? You know what, I’ll do both.”
He nods decisively then turns an expectant look towards you. His eyes look a bit wild, but you wisely keep that to yourself.
Wordlessly, you direct him to your hall closet. You realize your error a second too late when he opens the closet and reaches for the vacuum on the top shelf, where the purchase you’d made months ago also rests. His fingers get caught in the plastic bag when he grabs the handheld vacuum and its contents spill out. He goes to catch them right away, but once it registers what they are, he lets go of them like they’re on fire and nearly drops the vacuum on his foot.
Heat has been steadily creeping up your neck, but now your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment. The two of you stare at the baby clothes lying unassumingly on the floor for a long moment, until Bucky quietly walks back to the table with the vacuum clutched tightly in his fist. He flicks the switch on and it whirs to life, sucking up the bits of rice scattered around the table.
There’s another lengthy silence after he turns the vacuum off and you're unable to find the right thing to say to break it. Bucky does it for you.
“So… You’re serious.”
You meet his eyes and sigh heavily. “Yeah.”
He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, schooling his expression carefully. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”
You cough lightly and start picking the peas out of your fried rice. “Well, that would be because I’m not.”
“I don’t think I follow,” he admits slowly.
You sigh again, lowering your gaze to your lap. “Look, I’ve thought about this a lot, okay? I’ve given myself months to really make sure it’s what I want. I’m in a good place in my life to have one, Bucky, and I don’t want to feel pressured to wait until I might get married.” You lift your gaze to his. “I want to have a baby,” you repeat firmly. “And I don’t need a partner to have one.”
You’re not sure why you feel the need to defend yourself. It’s not up to Bucky what you decide to do. You don’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. Maybe it’s because, even though you know it's not true, it feels like you're making too hasty of a decision.
After a beat, Bucky amends, “Well, I mean… You do…”
“Oh my god, shut up, you know what I mean,” you groan as you smack his arm, glad that he's not calling you crazy or trying to talk you out of it.
He doesn’t even flinch, the jerk.
“Wait, so what were you reading when I got here?” he suddenly questions, brows furrowed.
“Nothing,” you say too quickly, guiltily.
“Let me see your laptop then,” he counters as he crosses his arms over his chest.
You flounder for a second, scoffing. “What? No!”
“It can’t be that embarrassing, just show me,” he wheedles.
“Absolutely not.”
“Let me see!”
“It’s private!”
“Don’t be a chicken.”
Your eye twitches. “I’m not a chicken.” Bucky smirks and before he can even open his mouth you interject with a finger pointed accusingly at his face, “Do not start clucking at me, Bucky. I’ll kick your ass,” you threaten, though it's weak and you're not the only one who knows it.
You glare when his smirk only widens. Slowly, he moves his arms like he’s gonna flap them like chicken wings.
“Ugh! God, fine! You wanna know what I was reading?” You open your laptop and slide it over to him, turning it to where he can read it. “There.”
Bucky scans the page, then scans it again, eyes flicking all over like it’s in a different language. His cheeks grow redder and redder as he reads and you get a small sense of satisfaction at the sight.
“Wow,” he mutters finally. “You’re turkey baster serious.”
“James Buchanan Barnes,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“What?” he asks innocently.
When you make eye contact with him, you purse your lips to keep the laughter threatening to bubble out at bay, but the ever growing smile on Bucky’s face is hard to resist and you find yourself snorting a laugh that leads to uncontrollable giggles. Bucky’s laughing with you, his eyes crinkling on the sides. The tension you hadn’t realized you held in your shoulders loosens and you nudge his knee with yours in silent thanks.
“So,” he says after you've both calmed down.
“So,” you repeat, dragging it out, drumming your fingers on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing research, checking out all of my options, and while artificial insemination seems like the best choice… I don’t know, there’s just something too clinical about it,” you reply, voicing your concerns, “It doesn’t feel right. I know I said I don’t need a partner, and I don’t, but… Having absolutely no connection is weird.”
You shrug, waving a hand as if to say oh well, putting an end to the conversation, and pick up your plate to carry it over to the microwave. You reheat Bucky’s food while you’re up, and then you both start eating in comfortable silence. He gets halfway through his meal before speaking up.
“Have you… I mean, did you think about… I’ve heard that, uh. Some people ask another person…”
He trails off, clearly frustrated that he can’t just spit out what he’s trying to say. You think you understand what he means, though.
“I read up on surrogacy,” you say, biting your lip. “But I don’t think I’d want someone else to carry my baby.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t suggesting, uh, that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it!” he rushes to say.
You tilt your head. “What did you mean then?”
“Well,” Bucky starts, stilted, licking his lips. “For the artificial insemination, have you considered… you know. Asking someone you’re close with?”
You frown, not following.
“For—for the sperm,” he clarifies, shifting in his seat.
“Oh,” you breathe, blinking rapidly, surprised as you think of how to reply. “Um. No? I wouldn’t even know who I could ask, to be honest. That’s quite the request, you know? Who would—“
“Me,” he interrupts, determined and cheeks flushed, “I would.”
Your own face heats. “Oh,” you say again, quieter.
You can say, with full confidence, that not once did it cross your mind to ask anyone to help you, but you especially would have never given thought to asking Bucky.
For a list of reasons, really, with “it’s Bucky” being right at the very top. Like—sure, yes, you’re in love with him, but after two years of no signs of reciprocation you’ve learned to stop dreaming, to stop hoping. If the attraction was mutual he would have shown it by now, right? And on top of that, his friendship means the world to you and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. You'd never forgive yourself if you ever managed to fuck up the one good, constant thing going for you.
“Bucky,” you start, slow and careful, “this… This isn't something you can just jump into. It’s something you should think about for a while.”
He contemplates that for a second. “You’re right,” he concedes with a nod. “But…” He purses his lips, glancing away for a minute before turning back to you, leaning forward. “Okay listen, this is important for you. It’s going to change your whole life. You said it yourself, not having a connection to the sperm donor feels wrong. You’re my best friend, alright? I—care about you. You should pick someone you can trust.”
He clenches his jaw after he finishes speaking. You sort of hate the way your heart both flutters and plummets at his words. It’s nice to know you matter to him, just not in the way you’ve wanted for too long.
And if you’re really honest with yourself, Bucky would be a great choice as a donor. He’s in great health, has strong features that would look wonderful on any gender. But would you be able to handle the repercussions of having his child? Would you be able to look at your baby and see those features without it sending a pang through your chest every single time? You can’t say for certain.
Yet, the chance to have that type of connection with him, selfishly, sounds too good to pass up.
“At least think about it for a few days,” you murmur reluctantly.
It’s the most acceptance he’ll get and he knows it. A smile blooms across his face and you have to swallow down the warring emotions rising within you.
***
With the amount of research you do on the subject now, it doesn’t take long for you to find out that there are at-home kits for artificial insemination that are much easier (and cheaper). It’s easy to settle on that, clicking on the info to order your kit with butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
You read through the instructions online and it all sounds simple enough, until you get to the part where it says that having an orgasm after injection helps increase your chances of conception.
Blinking, heat crawling up your neck, you read that step several times, hoping you read it wrong, but it doesn’t change.
You… You can’t masturbate with Bucky’s sperm inside you. That’s a line you refuse to cross.
And besides, he’s a healthy man in his thirties who exercises regularly and eats fairly healthy food! You probably—definitely—won’t need to take that step. It’ll be fine. Probably.
Once the kit arrives, you call Bucky and ask him to come over so you can explain the process to him. Since he’s only across the hall of your apartment building, he’s there a moment later, letting himself in with his key.
“Let’s make a baby,” is how he greets you.
“Hold your horses,” you reply, fighting back a laugh. “I gotta walk you through everything first.”
He plops himself down next to you on your couch. “Fine, fine. Go ahead.”
Squaring your shoulders, you begin telling him how it all works, and what parts he is key for. You speak through your awkwardness, avoiding eye contact, when you explain that he’ll need to masturbate into a clean, sterile cup. You leave out how it’s suggested for you to also masturbate, deciding it’s not pertinent information for him to know.
“When do we start?” he asks once you’re done.
“I have to take an ovulation test first to find out the best days for me to conceive, but once I do that we’ll be able to, um.” You gesture vaguely. “I’ll be able to do the injections.”
He nods. “Alright.” He looks at you then, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here every step of the way, okay?”
“I know,” you say, smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”
“You’re welcome,” he returns softly.
“No, really, thank you,” you assert. “This is a lot to take on and I can never fully repay you.”
Bucky shakes his head. “I want you to be happy, and I can see that having this baby is going to do that. I’ll do whatever I need to do to ensure it happens.”
You pull him into a hug, willing yourself to not cry. You’re not sure he’ll ever understand what this means for you, personally, or that you’d ever find a way to express it. He’s giving you so much more than just a baby.
***
The first injection time comes and you find yourself fidgeting where you sit as you wait for Bucky to bring over the, uh… sample. You do your best to not think about what he’s doing in his apartment, to not think about exactly how he’s collecting his sperm.
Now is not the time, you mentally scold yourself. Get it together.
A timid knock at your door alerts you to his presence. The fact he’s knocking says a lot about his own level of embarrassment about the situation.
His cheeks are pink when you open the door. “Uh, hi.”
“Hi,” you return.
He clears his throat and lifts the small cup in his hand. “Here’s… well, you know.”
You gingerly take it from him, not knowing what else to say, but when he smiles somewhat crookedly and turns to leave, you find yourself asking, “Will you stay?”
Bucky’s steps pause. “Huh?”
“Will you—I mean… Would you mind staying?” You shift on your feet. “This is a big moment for me. I-I don’t want to do it alone.”
“Are you asking me to…?” He trails off awkwardly.
“Oh! God, no, I wouldn’t—no,” you assure, huffing a laugh, “I’m doing the injection, I just need a little moral support. That’s all.”
Bucky smiles. “Sure, I’ll stay.”
Relief floods through you. You step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He follows you to your bedroom and just before entering you stop in your tracks, nearly causing Bucky to bump into you.
“Um,” you mutter, turning to him. “You’ll have to, ah, sit out here,” you explain. “I have to be lying down…”
Understanding dawns on him. “Oh! Right, right, of course. Sorry.”
“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you promise.
He nods and watches you close the door. You walk over to your bed and sit down, glancing at the syringe you’ll be using and biting the inside of your cheek.
This is it. There’s really no going back after this. Sure, you may not get pregnant the first time, but Bucky’s already said he’d help you for as long as it takes. It’s just… very real now. You don’t feel any doubts, though. You want this.
Inhaling a large breath and slowly letting it out, hands shaking, you take the lid off the cup and pick up the syringe. You remember the instructions, making sure there’s as little air sucked in as possible when you draw out the semen, and getting rid of the few air bubbles that you see. You grab your pillows and lie down, propping them beneath you to lift your hips.
“Here I go,” you mumble to yourself, taking another deep breath and releasing it.
A couple minutes later, the syringe is empty and you’ve got your legs pulled up to your chest. You cover yourself with your blanket and call out Bucky’s name.
“You okay?” you hear through the door.
“Will you come here, please?” you ask.
He walks in cautiously, making sure you’re decently covered before entering fully, wisely not commenting on your position. “Well?”
“I did it,” you whisper.
He stays quiet, letting you parse through your thoughts. You blink when you feel tears threatening to gather in your eyes. He’s beside you in an instant, crawling in the bed and lying down, taking your hand in his.
“Congratulations,” he says softly.
“Don’t congratulate me yet,” you reply, sniffing and wiping at your eyes.
“Still,” he presses. “You’re one step closer now.”
He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it. You give him a watery smile. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment before Bucky breaks it.
“This isn’t how I pictured myself making a baby.”
It startles a laugh out of you and Bucky grins, pleased to have helped ease the tense atmosphere. He distracts you with idle conversation after that, talking about his plans for the upcoming weekend, asking about yours, tells you about the newest stupid thing Sam did; he talks and talks and talks, until your anxiety is gone, and then he stays to cook dinner for you.
Your hug when he gets ready to head back to his apartment lasts a couple minutes longer than usual. Bucky quietly allows it, dropping a kiss on your forehead when you pull away.
“Same time next week?” he jokes, making you crack a smile.
“Goodbye, Bucky,” you reply exasperatedly as you close your door.
“Bye, sweetheart,” he returns over his shoulder.
***
Weeks pass. More injections. Pregnancy tests taken.
But nothing happens.
All of your tests come back negative.
When reading up on artificial insemination, and pregnancy in general, you’d understood that there was a chance it wouldn’t happen right away. You thought you were fine with that, that you’d be alright with the waiting and all. Looking at your growing collection of negative tests, however, has a sense of dread building within you. You do your best to quell it, telling yourself there’s no need to stress over it. Yet.
Besides, your mind supplies in an overly cheerful manner, there’s still one more method to try!
***
The next time Bucky brings over his sample, he lets himself in, like always, and passes along the cup with an encouraging smile. You try to smile back, but it feels more like a grimace. He either doesn’t notice or he at least pretends not to, thankfully.
But when he goes to make himself comfortable to wait, you’re reminded that you haven’t told him about the, uh… change in procedure, so to speak.
You clear your throat delicately. “I don’t think you’ll need to stick around this time.”
Bucky frowns. “Why not?”
“Because…” You trail off, cheeks pinking, yet not finishing the sentence, because how do you explain this?
“I promised you I’d be here every step of the way,” he recalls. “I intend to keep that promise.”
You wince. “I really appreciate where your heart is, Bucky, I really do, but I literally cannot let you be here for this injection.”
“Why not?”
You look heavenward for mercy. “I have to…”
When you don’t finish your sentence again, Bucky raises a single brow, gesturing for you to go on. “You have to… what?”
You huff, throwing your arms out. “I have to orgasm, okay?”
His eyes go a little bit wide, but you can tell he tries to control his reaction. He swallows, shifting where he sits on the couch.
“Oh,” he mumbles. “Have… have you had to do that before?”
“No. Well, I mean, it was suggested, but I never…”
His eyebrows furrow. “Does it help or something?”
You absently scratch your neck. “They say it increases the chances of conception.”
“But you haven’t been doing… that.”
“I didn’t think I’d need to.”
Bucky inhales like he’s going to say something, but then doesn’t.
“Yeah, so, I don’t think you should be here,” you utter, quickly adding, “No offense.”
“No, yeah, that’s fair, um. I’ll just—I’ll head back to my apartment,” he states as he stands. “You can—I mean, if you still want me to—I can come back over? After you… uh…”
“I’ll let you know,” you reply, voice tight and high.
He nods, looking lost and like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. Finally, he mutters a soft bye and is out the door.
Alone now, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots and your heart is doing its damnedest to beat out of your chest. You try to tell yourself that it’s just another injection, that this is the same as any other time you've done this, but you know it’s not. It's really, really not.
Laying down on your bed, syringe in hand, is much more nerve wracking than before. On your left lies a new addition to your routine. You don’t know why you’re acting like such a prude all the sudden. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated before. Though, you suppose the major difference is that you didn’t have Bucky’s sperm hangin’ out in your vagina all those other times while you did it.
“Quit being such a goober about this,” you tell yourself.
This has to be done for a reason. If you want to have a baby—and you do, very badly—then you’re gonna have to deal with the process.
Once you’ve injected the sperm, you reach for your bullet vibrator next to your left hand. The instructions say not to insert anything, only to stimulate your clit. You try to clear your head, think of it as a chore or something, yet it’s hard not to think of a certain someone.
The vibrator buzzes with the press of a button. You adjust your hips, making sure they’re tilted, then bring the vibrator to your clit. The first touch makes your stomach tense and thighs spasm.
You close your eyes, running the toy along your slit. You really don’t want to drag this out, would prefer to get it over with as quickly as possible, but your mind begins running away with images.
Bucky, settled between your spread thighs, one hand resting on one of them, the other controlling the vibrator. You imagine he’d tease you, slowly trail it along the crease of your thighs, over your hips; everywhere but where you wanted it.
Bucky would probably give in once you whine and beg enough, once your desperation bled into your voice, and hold the vibrator directly to your clit, drink in your cries of pleasure like they’re the finest whisky.
He’d mutter soft but firm encouragement, tell you how good you’re doing, how good you sound. He’d start circling the vibrator, going from quick to lazy swirls, then he’d change the setting to a higher one just to hear you whimper. His free hand would run up your torso to pinch at your nipples for added stimulation.
When you imagine him leaning down to add his tongue into the mix, your mind blanks as your climax hits you, a ragged moan forcing its way out of your throat. You’re quick to turn the vibrator off and toss it to the floor, deciding you’ll worry about cleaning it later, chest heaving as you pant for breath after an intense orgasm.
Shame and embarrassment consume you, mock you for using Bucky to rub one out. You’d given in to the fantasy so easily.
Truthfully, it’s not the first time you’ve thought of him while pleasuring yourself, but the context this time is completely different, and you feel immediately guilty. Admittedly, it’s probably irrational.
That doesn’t stop you from cringing at your actions.
***
You’re sure you’ve bought out the entire pregnancy test section from the convenience store down the block. Currently, there are six different brands in front of you, all promising the most accurate results.
Bucky is sitting in your bedroom, quietly waiting for you to pee on all of them so you can both find out what they say. You chug the last bit of your third bottle of water even though your bladder is fit to burst at any moment. Turning the faucet on for modesty, you make quick work of the tests, then wash your hands.
And wait.
You call Bucky into the bathroom with you. The two of you quietly sit on the edge of your bathtub, counting down the minutes. Part of you wishes Bucky would say something dumb to break the tension, like he usually does, but you're also kind of glad he's just here, next to you, a silent comfort.
It seems like hours have passed when you’re finally sure you can check them.
The first one is negative, and so is the second. The third, however, reads positive. Your heart begins racing, clutching at the counter, but before your hopes get too carried away you read the rest. To your dismay, they are all negative. You stare down at them all, eyes falling on the loan positive test multiple times, knowing that it’s likely a false positive, yet stupidly hoping otherwise.
Your chin wobbles. Bucky hugs you from behind, resting his cheek on your shoulder.
“What do I do, Bucky?”
At your broken whisper, he sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”
Neither of you know what to say or do after that. Bucky continues offering quiet support, his solid presence at your back, and you’re grateful. Eventually, he leads you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, sitting you down at the table as he starts preparing dinner.
When you’re both eating the spaghetti he made, he breaks the silence.
“Do you think…” he starts, pausing to think of how to phrase his question before carefully carrying on. “Are you going to stop?”
“I don’t want to,” you answer, the implied but hanging heavy in the air.
Bucky sits his fork down. “I know you want this, very much.” He pushes his hair out of his face as he leans forward, elbows settling on the table. “But I hate seeing how sad you get when the tests come out negative. I feel so… powerless. Like I could be doing more or something.”
“You’re doing all you can, Bucky,” you assure.
“That’s the thing, though. I don’t think I am.”
You frown. “What do you mean?”
He licks his lips, locking his fingers together. “I think we should have sex.”
Your fork drops to your plate with a clang, eyes going wide.
“I apologize for how blunt that came out,” he states with a wince. “But, I mean, think about it. You’ve only been using my sperm from a syringe, and up until the last time, you hadn’t been, um, orgasming with it.” You look away, bashful. “I just wonder if maybe trying the old-fashioned way would give you better results.”
“Bucky,” you start, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before shaking your head. “It’s one thing for you to offer your sperm, which I’m thankful for, truly, but… Having sex?”
“I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever I need to do,” he retorts earnestly. “Your happiness means a lot to me, okay? I hate sitting around and watching your heart break every week. You’ve tried it your way, now I think we should try mine.”
“I-I don’t know,” you hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek, knee beginning to bounce under the table.
His hand slides onto your knee, stilling the movement as he ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are impossibly sincere and your resolve crumbles in an instant.
“It won’t… It’s not going to change anything,” he assures. “I won’t allow it.”
You swallow roughly. He may not, but your heart is going to take its toughest beating yet. It’s going to be hopeless trying to overcome the inevitable emotions that come with sex.
Even so, somehow, your longing for a baby eclipses all of this. Now that you’ve imagined holding your child in your arms, raising them and loving them, you can’t go back. Not anymore.
“Okay,” you allow, softly.
Bucky’s shoulders relax, lips tipping up into a devastating smile.
You’re so fucked. (Pun intended.)
***
Two nights later, you’re pacing in your bedroom, impatiently waiting for Bucky to arrive. You’d been unsure whether or not you should dress up. You didn’t see the point, honestly. Still, a small part of you wondered what his reaction would be if he saw you all done up in lingerie. At the moment, you’re in an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.
It’s Bucky, you think, and this isn’t a normal situation, it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.
You hear his key turning in the lock then and your heart begins hammering away. He calls your name as he enters.
“In here,” you reply, twisting your fingers nervously.
He walks into your room looking just as on edge as you are. He also seems to have had the same idea about his attire, comfortable in his white tee and sweatpants. His feet are bare and for whatever reason that feels way more intimate than it has any right to.
“Hey,” he greets.
“Hi.”
You bite your lip, eyes flitting around your room and coming back to settle on Bucky. He huffs.
“This is ridiculous,” he declares, “It’s just us.”
“Right,” you nod, biting the inside of your cheek.
“It’s not gonna be weird.”
“Nope.”
His jaw ticks. You stare back at him. It only takes a moment for you to realize that somebody has to make the first move, so you steel yourself and turn on your heel, walking towards your bed.
“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you announce as you unceremoniously drop onto the mattress, grabbing your pillows to stuff them under you.
Bucky follows at a sedate pace, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He pauses next to you, taking a second to roll his shoulders, then he climbs in and settles in front of your bent legs. He gingerly places his hands on your knees.
“May I?” he asks.
Mouth suddenly dry, you nod. He moves his hands to the waistband of your shorts and tugs. You lift your hips to help him slide them down and off, along with your underwear. Gently, he spreads your legs.
Your breathing has picked up considerably, eyes firmly trained on the ceiling. You know you’re already wet and are blessedly thankful he doesn’t mention it.
The first slide of his fingers has you inhaling sharply. He slowly gathers your slick and trails it up to your clit, lightly circling it. Your mind recalls your fantasy, but you quickly shove it back to the depths of your thoughts, lest you do something idiotic like tell him about it.
He spreads your legs more, adjusting his position between them. His fingers move down until he can sink one into you. You gasp, hands shooting out to grasp your sheets. He wastes no time and begins thrusting his finger inside you.
It becomes quickly apparent to you that it’s going to be very difficult to hold back any noise or reactions. Goddamnit, you will try, though!
When he decides it’s time to add another finger, you feel yourself clench around them, and his soft fuck does not go unnoticed, evident in the way your pussy traitorously clenches again.
“Can I…?” he asks, voice cracking, but doesn’t finish his thought, making you have to break your staring contest with the ceiling and look at him.
He’s not even looking back at you, he’s staring at his fingers, watching them pump in and out of you, half bent over with a slack jaw, like he wants to…
He meets your eyes then, licking his lips.
Oh.
Swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat, knowing you’re probably going to regret it, you nod.
He’s leaning over and sucking on your clit before you can even blink. You cry out, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his free hand shoots out to hold you open. It makes you squirm, fisting the sheets even tighter. His fingers curl inside you as his tongue licks around them and you whine, high and needy, and then mouth is back on your clit, tongue swiping over it, sucking on it with loud, obscene noises.
His hand comes up to grab the hem of your shirt, shoves it upward until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. Those fingers ghost back down your torso, goosebumps erupting in their wake.
He speeds up his thrusts and your hand flies down to grip his hair. You don’t think you’re meant to hear the quiet grunt he lets out, but you do, and it has you panting even harder. Your orgasm is building, fast, and you pull on his hair in warning.
“Bucky,” you say on a gasp.
Using his arm to hold you down, his free hand joins, thumb swiping over your clit now as he dips his head to slide his tongue in alongside his fingers. It draws a yell out of you, the ever expanding pleasure within you bursting into the hardest orgasm you’ve experienced thus far in your adult life. You know you’re moaning, bucking into the sensations coursing through you, and you’d feel abashed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.
Before you can become too sensitive, Bucky withdraws his fingers and sits up. You can’t even really catch your breath, though, because in the next second he’s whipping his t-shirt off and shoving his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock.
Your thighs do clamp closed then, at the sight of how thick he is, and he tries and fails to keep his smirk hidden.
“Oh, shut up,” you wheeze.
“Didn’t say anything,” he counters.
He doesn’t let you argue, choosing that moment to shuffle closer and line up with your opening. Cautiously, he eases himself inside, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, brows furrowing as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly. When he’s in as far as he can go, the breath wooshes out of him, his head falling back. You know he’s trying to be polite and let you adjust, but—
“Oh my god, move,” you demand, impatient.
He huffs a laugh, dropping his heavy lidded gaze to yours. “Bossy.”
“Did you really expect anything else—oh!”
The grin he aims your way after grinding into you is downright sinful. You mentally tell yourself to kick him for that later.
He grabs your hips and the pillows and settles you closer to his lap, changing the angle, then pulls out and glides back in, creating a painstakingly slow rhythm.
You have to close your eyes. You can’t look at him anymore. You knew he was probably a god in bed, but to now have firsthand experience? There was no way you’d be able to fuck anyone else without comparing them.
His grip on your hips tightens, the only warning you get before his thrusts turn sharp.
“Fuck,” you cry out, your hands reaching up to grip the pillow beneath your head.
The sound of your skin meeting his is harsh in the otherwise quiet room. Well, okay, you’re not exactly being quiet, but you can’t be blamed for that.
Bucky, however, is nearly silent. The only thing you hear from him is heavy breathing. You wonder if he’s holding back, the thought crossing your mind for a split second, and then you’re clenching around his cock, trying to see if you can gain a reaction. And boy, do you get one.
He grunts and sucks in a breath, lips parting as his eyes squeeze shut. His hips pick up their pace and hair falls into his face. You find yourself wishing he was closer so you could brush it out of the way.
Stop it, you scold yourself.
He pauses to grind into you again, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, and you both sigh. Bucky leans forward, hooking your legs into the crooks of his elbows, and resumes his brutal pace.
“O-Oh,” you whimper.
The new angle is heavenly, his cock dragging along a spot inside you that you thought nobody else could find. Unable to help yourself, you clutch at his arms, nails digging in.
“Shit,” he groans, thrusts faltering.
He lets go of one of your legs to slip his hand between you, rubbing at your clit and sending you that much closer to your second orgasm. He can tell you’re close, but you’re gonna need something to push you over the edge. He leans down even closer, breath fanning out against your cheek.
“C’mon,” he pants. “Let go.”
You shiver when his tongue flicks your earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, keening as the pressure builds. He thrusts harder, faster, and when you grasp his hair and pull, he growls and latches on to your shoulder, biting down. You gasp from the added pain and then you’re coming, shuddering and whining through your release. Bucky isn’t far behind, raising up and fucking into you savagely before pausing abruptly, groaning as he finally comes. He lazily thrusts a few more times to draw it out, then stops, stilling with his cock inside you.
Your hair is sticking to your forehead, as well as your shirt to your clammy back, breathing in lungfuls of air. Bucky is softly caressing your thighs, letting out shaky breaths as your pussy continues to flutter around him.
It takes several moments for you to gather your wits, for the rest of the world to come filtering back in. You are truly and completely fucked now, in every sense of the word.
“Well…” You trail off, voice scratchy.
“That was…”
“Mhm,” you mumble.
Bucky sighs heavily. “Let’s hope it worked this time.”
You hum. “Thank you for your service,” you reply with a lazy salute.
You yelp when he pinches your hip, kicking at him in retaliation. The jostling reminds you, with a gasping groan, that he’s still buried balls deep inside you.
“Um.” You cough lightly. “You wanna, you know… pull out?”
He looks down where you’re connected like it hadn’t even dawned on him. “Oh, uh. Well, I thought maybe it could, like. Help.”
His gaze stays locked, fingers flexing on your hips, and you feel like squirming again.
“I think it’s good,” you say quietly.
Bucky finally glances back up at your shy tone, cheeks pinking. He clears his throat.
“Right.”
Carefully, he eases his softening cock out of you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise.
You can’t hold back yours, though, gasping once he’s gone. You feel unbearably empty, but refrain from voicing that incessant thought.
Bucky’s intense eyes stare at your pussy until you reach for the throw blanket next to you. He watches you throw it over your lap, drawing your legs up to your chest, and takes that as his cue, jolting into action.
“Okay, so.” He starts, then stops, climbs off your bed and pulls his sweatpants back up. “This was—I mean, if it doesn’t take this time, we can… try again.”
“Yeah,” you mutter. “Sounds good.”
He nods, bending to pick up his discarded t-shirt. “Great. I’ll just, um, see myself out, I guess.”
You nod, sending a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes in his direction. He seems to contemplate something for a second, then leans down to kiss your forehead before saying a quick goodbye and leaving.
As soon as you hear your apartment door shut, you let your tears fall.
***
It’s not really like you mean to avoid him after that.
Honest.
You simply become busy, that’s all. You definitely don’t go out of your way by taking the stairs in your apartment building to avoid possibly bumping into him in the elevator. No, you take the stairs because you could use the cardio. It’s important you stay healthy right now. And when he texts you to ask if you want to have dinner, you can’t help that you’ve got boatloads of work to catch up on—all five times he asks.
Okay, so, that’s a lie. You’re totally avoiding him. But what on earth are you supposed to say to him now? You don’t think you’d even be able to look him in the eye anymore, not after the fuck of your goddamn life.
That night confirmed what you already knew for the last two years: Bucky absolutely ruined you for anyone else.
More than anything, though, you were angry with yourself. He’d only offered because you weren’t getting your desired results the other way. You should have been able to separate your feelings and emotions from all of it. After all, none of this was about whatever you feel towards Bucky. This was about trying to conceive a baby.
You try telling yourself to get over it. He’s your best friend, you can’t just cut him off because you’re a spineless pansy.
I just need some time, you reason. You can give yourself a few days to wallow over what could have been and then you can reach out to him and pretend like everything is fine. Because it is.
***
Flash forward two weeks to you attempting to sneak into your apartment, only to jump out of your skin when you turn around and find Bucky sitting on your couch, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Oh, good, you’re still alive,” he drawls.
His tone suggests annoyance. You suppose you deserve that.
“Hey,” you say after a pause.
He stares at you for a moment longer before speaking again. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t let it get weird.”
You agreed, you almost say, thankfully biting it back. You drop your purse on the entryway table, sliding your shoes off and making your way over to sit next to him.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You tug your sweater sleeves down and tuck your feet beneath you. “I haven’t ever… I’ve never been intimate with a friend before. It was just… a lot.”
It’s a half truth, at least. You haven’t had sex with a friend before. Or, well, not one you had feelings for.
“You could’ve just told me,” he replies, reaching for your hand.
You nod. “I know, and I should have, I just. Things are all out of whack lately with the whole… trying to get pregnant thing.”
“If I overstepped in any way—” Bucky starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.
“You didn’t,” you promise. “You’ve been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole ordeal. Honestly, Bucky, you’ve done way more than anyone else would have in this situation. I just had a lot going on in my head and let it get the best of me. I’m fine, I swear.”
He searches your eyes and must find what he’s looking for.
“Don’t shut me out again,” he pleads.
Heart cracking in your chest, you can only nod, shuffling closer to pull him into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and holds on tight.
***
Another week passes.
Bucky is with you as you wait for the results of the latest pregnancy test. He’s reassured you that you’ll keep trying until it happens if it didn’t work this time.
When the timer on your phone goes off, you release the breath you’ve been holding. You take tentative steps over to the sink and gingerly pick up the test.
Positive.
Your stomach swoops. It’s positive. You check again, reading the digitized screen, but it stays the same. Positive. Holy shit.
“Okay, wait, no, I need to do more. I can’t get my hopes up again,” you mutter, rushing to open the cabinet under your sink to dig out several more varieties of tests.
You don’t even wait for Bucky to leave before you’re peeing on the other sticks. He’s seen it all at this point anyway, and he doesn’t seem to care, sitting on the edge of your tub with an anxious expression. The downside is that you have to wait another few minutes for these tests to finish and you can’t sit still, pacing back and forth in the small space of your bathroom.
The timer goes off again. You feel like you’re going to throw up when you finally work up the courage to look down.
Every single one of them… Positive.
A shocked, happy laugh escapes you. You cover your mouth, turning to Bucky with wide eyes.
He rises to his full height, coming closer and peering down at the tests, then back to your teary eyed expression.
“Did we…?”
Words failing you, you nod, giggling in astonishment. Bucky’s face breaks into the biggest, handsomest, most gut-wrenching smile. His happiness is palpable and you’re suddenly so overcome with emotion. Your hands are gripping his face and angling it to align your lips to his before you register what you’re doing. He freezes and you hurriedly pull away, taking a few steps back.
“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know why—”
“Shut up,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between you in a single stride.
He kisses you like his life depends on it, pressing your bodies as close as possible, his hands cupping your cheeks. You clutch his shirt desperately, never wanting to let go. He steals the breath straight from your lungs when he swipes at the seam of your lips with his tongue, moaning happily when you allow him access. A feeble whine from you after he flicks his tongue against yours makes him break the kiss.
“I have a confession,” he breathes into the miniscule space between your mouths.
“What?” you question distractedly.
“I’m in love with you.”
Your gaze shoots up to his, astounded. He brushes stray hairs off your forehead, runs his thumbs softly under your eyes.
“I’ve been selfish this whole time,” he reveals. “I couldn’t let you choose some random stranger to be your sperm donor, to father your child, couldn’t bear the thought of you carrying their baby, because I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you. I wanted to be the one. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I’m not sorry I did it.”
You’re hearing the words, yet your brain can’t seem to make sense of them. Surely you’re hearing him wrong. You can’t possibly have this too, right? You can't have Bucky and have his baby…
But he’s here, very real and solid beneath your hands, looking at you like you’re his entire world.
“Bucky…” You trail off, struggling to find the right words, at a complete loss. “I-I’ve loved you for so long now, I didn’t think you…” You shake your head, a giggle escaping you as you stare at him in wonder. “I couldn’t let myself hope.”
He grins, relieved, planting a few chaste kisses to your mouth. “I know this entire circumstance is totally backwards, but I want you, and I want this baby. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere.”
Fresh tears gather in the corners of your eyes. “Are you sure?” you still ask.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
You have to kiss him then, uncaring of the tears that trickle down your face. The only thing you are focused on is the way his hands trail down your back, pausing to squeeze your ass, then grip underneath to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked around his neck, as he heads for your bed. He makes a point of throwing your extra pillows on the floor before settling between your thighs and kissing the hell out of you.
He pulls away only to undress you and himself, but he’s always back as quickly as possible, lips pressing kisses wherever he can reach. You impatiently tug at him until his lips are attached to yours again. The way he fucks his tongue into your mouth is nothing short of indecent and it sends a rush of pure want all the way to your core.
When you bury your fingers in his hair, gripping it tight, he grunts, biting your lip. You whimper and he grins as he pulls away.
“You make the most beautiful sounds,” he praises, his hands beginning to sweep down and up, tickling under your breasts.
His thumb and forefinger pinch one of your nipples and you gasp, back arching off your mattress. He repeats it on the other side, just to hear the same noise.
“Bucky, please,” you beg.
“Please what?” he prods. His hands drift further to the creases of your thighs, spreading them open. “What do you need?”
You whine, canting your hips up. “You, I need you, please.”
“You have me, sweetheart.” He tilts his head and you make a noise of frustration. “Use your words, darlin’.”
“Fuck me, please,” you burst out, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.
Bucky smiles, slow and torturous. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Fuck this perfect pussy until you’re so full of my come that it drips down your beautiful thighs?”
“Oh god,” you mumble.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases.
His fingers slide down your slit, gathering your slick then thrusts two fingers in at once. You groan brokenly, shifting your hips to try and get more friction, but he holds them down with his metal arm. Agonizingly slow, he begins fucking you with his fingers. It’s good, it’s amazing, but it’s not enough. Not when you know what his cock feels like. He takes his precious time fingering you and you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind before the day is done.
“You have no idea how incredible you felt around my cock,” he tells you in a ridiculously conversational tone. “I was trying to think of any excuse I could come up with to have you at least one more time.”
He shifts until his mouth is directly above where you’re dripping for him, and he waits until you make eye contact with him.
“But now I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making you come apart on my cock any chance I get.”
You hardly have any functioning brain cells at the moment, but even if you could form a coherent sentence you wouldn’t have been able to say it aloud, because then he’s descending and all you can feel is the wet warmth of his mouth.
He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, that much is apparent in the way he devours you, lips and tongue drawing out noises you’ve never heard yourself make, pressing his face so far into your pussy that he has to come up for air. His mouth and chin shine when you chance a look down, and when you clench on his fingers his smile goes smug at the corners.
He plants kisses along your hips, the insides of your thighs, around where his fingers are buried within you. He curls them, in search of the spot he found last time. He knows he found it when you try to close your thighs around his head and cry out. Now that he's found it, he angles to brush it on every thrust of his fingers and attaches his mouth back on your clit.
You chant his name, nearly sobbing as you approach your climax, until finally you fly over the edge. Your vision blurs and you’re not sure if you’re making any noise now, unable to hear past the blood rushing in your ears. Bucky helps you ride it out until you’re shuddering from sensitivity.
He kisses your thighs again, trailing them up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts.
“So good, did so well,” he mutters.
Weakly, you lift your hands to trace them down his toned stomach and around his back, down further so you can cop a feel of your own, smiling at his grunt of surprise.
“That was great and all,” you say, arching your back so your chest presses against his, “but I do believe I asked you to fuck me.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Who said I was done with you?” It’s apparently a rhetorical question, as he continues before you get a chance to reply. “I’m gonna fuck you until you come, and then I’m gonna keep fucking you until you come again, and only then will I come so deep inside you there’ll be zero doubt I’ve put a baby there.”
Your legs are lifted and thrown over his shoulders in a blink, his cock pushing into your pussy, dragging out a high-pitched moan from you. There’s barely a pause and then he’s fucking you, just like you asked. The pace is brutal right from the start, a steady rhythm that has you mewling and writhing in pleasure. Bucky is watching his cock as he thrusts in and out of you, his mouth hanging open slightly as he pants. He hikes your hips up a little higher and you jolt through your startled moan. This angle is divine and the telltale signs of your second orgasm start tingling at the base of your spine.
“Can feel you,” Bucky says through panting breaths, “so close. C’mon, let me feel you.”
He pulls you down on his cock, grinding into you, his thumb reaching to rub tight circles over your clit. You sob through your release, shuddering against Bucky as you clench around him. He groans, still barely moving as you come down from your high.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Come here.”
He helps you sit up, still seated on his cock, making you both hiss from your movement. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and his around your waist. He kisses you so sweetly, a stark contradiction to the way he just fucked you. When you pull away, resting your foreheads together, he grins.
“Hi.”
You crack a smile. “Hi.”
“Ready for more?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
“You think you got it in you?” you tease as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
The light smack to your ass startles you and you let out a soft sound of surprise, hands tugging his hair harshly. Bucky’s eyes light up.
“Interesting,” he muses.
Another slap, a little harder than the first, and you’re whimpering, your walls clenching around his still hard cock.
“I’ll play with that later,” he promises, voice breathy.
You bury your face in his neck and start shifting your hips. He takes the hint, gathering you as close as he can and thrusts up into you. He can’t pull out as far this way, but the snap of his hips more than makes up for it. You mouth at his collarbone messily, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, biting marks wherever you see fit. You make it up to his mouth and he kisses you, wet and filthy. You suck on his tongue and a ragged moan claws its way out of his throat. The need for air eventually has you pulling away.
“It’s a good thing you love me back,” you whisper in his ear. “Nobody else could ever compare to you.”
He growls, fisting your hair and yanking your head back to look him in the eye.
“Nobody will ever compare,” he corrects.
You moan. “Yes,” you agree, whining, “No one else could’ve given me a baby.”
Bucky thrusts harder and faster at your words. You’re picking up on a few hints and you can’t say it’s not doing it for you either.
“Filled me up so good, fucked me so well. Gonna be round with your baby soon.”
“Fuck, fuck,” he keens, hurrying to lay you flat on your back so he can fuck into you easier.
The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, your cries of pleasure mixing in with Bucky’s grunts and curses. His grip on you tightens almost painfully as he chases both your and his orgasm. You’re sure to have bruises tomorrow and you already know you'll be poking at them to remember this moment.
“C’mon, baby, wanna feel you too,” you beg.
His thumb finds your swollen clit once more. It’s beyond sensitive now, feels like a shockwave coursing through you, and without any warning, you come. You spasm around Bucky and he swears under his breath, thrusts going sloppy. With a final groan, he comes inside you, his hips moving seemingly on their own as he draws out both your pleasures. Slowly, he comes to a stop, but he leaves his cock buried in you like he did last time.
You know you’re gonna feel too empty when he does pull out, so you don’t mind sitting like this for a while. Bucky softly runs his hands across every inch of your skin he can touch and you bask in the affection. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, smiling when he hums happily. It takes only a minute for you to notice the way his hands migrate to your stomach, and when you do you kiss his shoulder.
“Maybe we should go again later,” you suggest faintly.
Bucky grins. “We can do it a hundred more times if you want.”
“Guess I better enjoy it while I can.”
His smile goes soft at the edges.
It’s not lost on you how incredibly crazy all of this is. There will undoubtedly be a conversation, a much needed one that isn’t going to be simple or easy, but it’s necessary.
For now, though, you bask in Bucky’s warmth and loving embrace.
***
Keys jingle as they unlock the door and you perk up where you’re sprawled on the couch. Bucky enters, arms laden with bags from the convenience store.
“They didn’t have the banana ice cream you asked for,” he announces, continuing before your pout fully forms, “but they did have the double chocolate brownie kind you love so much, so I got that, as well as the sour gummy worms, beef jerky, and fried pickles from the deli on your list of demands.”
“What about—”
“And your strawberry Fanta,” he adds with a fond, slightly exasperated smile.
You’re unable to stop your expression from going soft and dreamy.
Ever since you and Bucky figured out where to go with your relationship, he’s been even more attentive and accommodating (and that’s saying something).
You expressed your worry about the possibility of something going wrong, that one or both of you would get bored and leave, or there’d be a big fight that neither of you could forgive. He was quick to reassure you of his commitment, told you there was no way he would ever get bored of you, and that as long as you both promise to talk things out in a calm, mature way, then you’d be alright.
It all sounded so easy when it was put like that. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized he was right. It wasn’t fair to either of you to already give up before you’d even started. So you’d taken a deep breath and leaped.
Now, you’re five and a half months in, your belly steadily growing and making everyday life increasingly uncomfortable. The changes to your body were physically and emotionally draining, to say the least. Moreso the emotional side. You’d hoped you wouldn’t be one of those pregnant women with strange cravings, and for the most part they were pretty tame, but you do like to dip your sour gummy worms in banana ice cream. Bucky didn’t attempt to hide his disgust over that.
“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask on a pleased sigh.
He places your small cornucopia of goods on the coffee table. You sit up, huffing for breath during the struggle. You go to reach for the ice cream first, but Bucky catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your knuckles as he kneels in front of you.
“You were yourself. Smart, kind, selfless, unbelievably sexy.” You snort at that, but he’s undeterred. “And you’re giving me the best gift I could ever dream of. A family.”
Instantly, you’re crying. He’s grown accustomed to the mood swings by now, taking it in stride as he wipes away the tears with gentle hands.
“Stop being so disgusting,” you blubber through your hiccuping cries. “You’re such an asshole.”
Bucky laughs. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
You sniffle, kissing him. “Love you,” you grumble.
He leans down and plants the softest of kisses to your belly. “And I love you, little lady.”
The idea of you having a child one day always seemed foreign and unlikely, but life has a way of turning out exactly how it’s supposed to… And you wouldn’t change a thing.
#avengers fic#marvel fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x you#i can't remember how to tag bye
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Simon Riley x Dog Sitter! Reader pt. 3
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Warnings: mild cursing, boredom, thas really it
A/N: Holy shit I cannot believe how much love this is getting, and it's so much fun to write!! I've decided to makes this a fully fledged fic instead of just a drabble, and I'll be posting it on ao3 too! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Also sorry if formatting changes, I'm trying to have some sort of order among my writing.
Simon had never told you how long he'd be gone - which was fine, your flat was only a twenty-minute drive from his home, should you need to do laundry or get more soap. You had some freelancing logo-design work you could focus on in your downtime, and Simon had been gracious enough to leave a note on the coffee table with the wifi password. Truth be told, you imagined this would feel like a holiday: no more shitty bosses. You were your own boss, here. You could make your own schedule, as long as you made time for Riley.
You soon discovered, after moving into Ghost's house, that it was very much not a vacation. The interior of his home was so barren that it made you feel like you had been sent to an asylum. On your first day there, you managed to get a bit of freelance work done; after that, you tried watching the telly, but you couldn't drown the heavy restlessness in the back of your mind.
You decided to phone a friend.
"What's Riley like?" Leslie said through the phone, which was tucked under your ear.
"Military dog." You replied. You were lying on the floor next to Riley, stroking her fur as her head rested on your stomach. "So proper, I've never seen anything like it. You know- when I made breakfast today, I dropped some food on the linoleum- she didn't bat an eye. Girl just watched."
"That's amazing... you know Donald would have run to it like it was the first meal he'd been fed in years."
You laughed, making Riley's head bounce on your abdomen. "Mum has got to stop feeding them real food..."
"What about the client?" Leslie said, changing the subject. "Simon, was it? What's he like?"
"Honestly?" You began, scratching between Riley's ears. "A decent guy, don't get me wrong - but bland. Gruff. His apartment is, too."
"Just like ya mum always said." She snickered. "Can I see?"
You sighed. "Nah, I never checked if it was ok to bring people over. Not sure if he'd appreciate me giving you a tour. But I'll ask next time if you can visit."
"That's fair..." You heard her shuffling around on the other end of the line. "Well listen babes, I should get back to work. Got five left on my lunch break."
You groaned at the prospect of having to be alone in Simon's barren home again. "Alright... still on for this Thursday?"
"You know it! Nina's coming too."
You grimaced. "Whoop-tee-doo..."
"Oh, c'mon, I'll make sure she's civil. Love ya."
"She'd better be. Love you!"
The call ended with a click, and you let the phone slide from your shoulder with a sigh. You stared at the ceiling, running through what you could possibly do. You'd already had a shower at your flat before coming here, you'd done plenty of work...
Riley tilted her head up to look at you, sensing your frustration. You looked back down at her.
"What d'you and Simon do all day?" You asked.
She sighed and looked away.
Maybe it was time for a walk.
"Alright, Riley!" You said, pocketing your phone and sitting up. She scrambled up at the sudden movement; her eyes followed your every move as you stood, her stare expectant and excited.
"Fancy a walk?" You asked.
She whined and yapped, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
You chuckled. "C'mon, then - before you and I both start going insane."
On your way to the closet to fetch her leash, she had nearly knocked you down to beat you there. You huffed, leaning down to grab your shoes and tug them on. She sat (im)patiently and watched, her tail slapping against the wooden floor.
"Alright, alright..." You laughed, grabbing her leash and latching it onto her harness. She obediently trotted to the front door and sat, waiting for you. You opened the door and stepped outside, confused when the leash tugged in your hand. You looked back inside and saw that Riley hadn't moved from her seat on the floor. She looked at you, ears forward and eyes eager as she waited for... something.
You looked at her, puzzled. "What's wrong, girl?"
She whined, pointing one foot up and thumping her tail against the floor.
Oh, right. Military dog.
"Okay, Riley." You said clearly, and she happily trotted out the door. You chuckled, locking the deadbolt behind you and beginning the much needed walk. She stuck right by your side, never passing you nor falling behind.
For the kind of gruff, admittedly shady man that Simon was, you noticed that he lived in a pretty nice area. If you told your mum where he lived, she'd blow a cap out of jealousy - the houses were neatly lined down the street, each one with a driveway and a small garden bed underneath the living room windows. Simon's was noticeably bare - Christ, even his grass was thinner than the other neighbors', how does one manage that?
You eyed his empty garden bed as you passed it. You wondered if he would let you plant a few things... just to liven up the drabness. A couple of Hostas, maybe some African Violets... you knew he wouldn't want too much colour, but he definitely needed something to brighten his home. Currently, it stuck out like a sore thumb against the other houses. Not to mention, it would give you something to slice through the boredom of staying here.
Eventually, the sidewalk led to the edge of a small patch of woods. A bridge stretched over the creek, which then led to a longer, winding path through the trees. You came to a halt, reading the sign next to the trail.
"Po-wee-hee-co park..." You mumbled and Riley stared at you with her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. "Poeheko Park? You ever been here?"
She looked between you and the trail, sniffing the air. She licked her lips and whined.
"Suppose not, Simon's only ever dragged you around the block a few times, huh?"
She eyed the trail warily, but you could see her eyes brimming with eagerness and interest. You chuckled, reigning in her leash and starting over the bridge. "Time for an adventure!"
------------
Simon sat stoicly on the heli, eyes fixed on the wall across from him. His palms rested on his thighs, fingers splayed. He appeared calm and collected, focused on the mission that Priced had debriefed not too long ago.
Except, the mission couldn't have been further from his mind. He was thinking about you and Riley. We're you giving her enough attention? That was a dumb question; clearly you knew how much attention a dog needed. You'd done this before... but had you ever worked with a dog that had certain needs and medications? You never mentioned it during the interview, and he didn't remember to ask. What if you couldn't see the signs when Riley's pain was flaring up? What if you had forgotten that she needed pain medication?
He thought about texting you - but he quickly shut the thought down. He'd reserved texting for emergencies only, and he knew you were good at your job. There wasn't a moment of your life you hadn't spent around dogs, of course you would take perfect care of Riley.
"Honin' in, LT?" Soap's voice echoed through the coms as he took the seat opposite from Simon. He was relaxed, as if this was just another Friday for him - well, Simon supposed, it was.
"Always." Simon replied gruffly, focusing back on the mission at hand. He cleared his throat and flexed his fingers, trying to keep a cool composure.
"How's Riley doin'?" Soap asked. "Know I jus' seen 'er a few days ago, but- ye finally cave n' get someone to pet sit?"
Simon grunted. "'Course. Not gonna leave 'er alone that long, it'd be torture."
"Who'd ye get?"
"What's it to you?"
"Secret service? Ye snag one of the Royal Guards fer the job?"
"Jog on, Soap." Simon warned with a serious look, and Soap raised his hands in defense.
He couldn't tell Johnny about you. A fierce, possessive feeling in his chest told him not to. He knew Johnny had a thing for young, pretty things like you, and he refused to let you fall victim to his desires. In fact, he hated the thought of it.
But- who was he? Why was he being so protective over someone he barely knew? You were an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions. Why should Simon cockblock you and Johnny? So what if he wanted to shag you?
Mentally, he shook his head. No. Never. He'd lock you in his house if it meant keeping Jonny away from you. Even if Simon wasn't anything more than your client, he wasn't going to allow Johnny to get close to you. It would be too weird. You're his, after all.
...
Fuck.
He sighed and adjusted his position in his seat. You and Johnny didn't even know each other, for Christ's sake. He was overthinking all of this. You'd probably never even meet his team, why would you need to? You only ever have reason to spend time in his house, not on base. You just watch Riley, make breakfast in his kitchen, sleep on his couch, maybe his bed, if you're with the dog... using his bathroom, his shower...
He scowled at himself. Maybe hiring you was a huge mistake. You were too distracting.
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Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae @cum-tea-and-towels @boystepper @definitelynotaclown @your-wifes-boyfriend @ghostslittlegf @bossva @poppingaround @yannvi @katzykat @mileyraes @chocolate-noodles @jupiternighties @sadlonelybagel @rorysbrainrot @identity2212 @pricescontroversiallyyoungerwife @reevesdriver @kingshitonly @ghost4love @lilyofhoon @xxkay15xx @cosmic-nuisance4 @danielle143
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost#simon ghost riley#cod fanfiction#cod mw3#cod mw2#call of duty#cod#cod x reader
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you know i don't mean it (joel miller x reader) 18+
welcome to my 300 follower celebration! \o/
i polled my followers on which character they'd most like to see in some new smut and joel won (not surprised). this was supposed to be a drabble but ended up getting a bit longer than i anticipated, hope you enjoy!
summary: you and joel get off together. that's pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he's being closed off.
rating: 18+ explicit (mdni)
warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink (the term 'good girl' is used maybe 432534 times), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (but make it soft), mutual masturbation, come-play, come-eating, this is filthy
word count: about 2.5k | ao3 link
"This is the last time," he mutters under his breath, belt buckle jangling as he lays down across from you, "We can't keep doin' this."
"Yeah, yeah," your hand is already buried in your panties, index finger lightly rotating against your clit, "That's what you said last week too."
He grunts and you watch as he slips his hand inside his jeans and palms himself, squaring his shoulders and trying to relax. He pretends he's doing this for your benefit, like its you who needs help getting off, as if he's not a middle aged man who hasn't been touched by a woman in years. And it's not like you haven't offered, you've genuinely tried to give yourself to him more than a few times, but it's simply a line he won't cross.
Other lines, however, are much easier to cross. It had started out relatively innocent, something that had happened completely by chance, or at least you both led yourselves to believe it was. You'd both had the same idea one night and had ended up getting off together in the same room, you in the chair beside the fireplace of the abandoned ski lodge you'd both been posted in, him on the couch.
"Are you -" he'd gasped into the darkness when he'd heard the wet sound of your fingers a few feet away, plunging in and out of yourself at a steady rhythm.
"Like you're not," you'd hissed back, "I'm not deaf."
"Thought you were sleepin'," he'd muttered, hand stilling on his cock where seconds ago he'd been stroking like his life depended on it.
"And that makes it less weird?"
He'd groaned, releasing himself and sitting up to squint at you in the darkness, "So what are you gonna do about it?"
You glared at him, not bothering to remove your hand from your underwear as you continued to finger yourself, breathing deeply, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going. And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."
After a few seconds of silence, he'd flopped himself back down on the couch and reached for himself again, fucking into his fist, "No talking," he said through his teeth, "Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"
"Deal," you'd replied, and roughly added a third finger as you watched the dark silhouette of him jacking himself off barely six feet away from you.
One night turned into two, turned into five, and now ten. It wasn't every night, only when you were on patrol together. You'd privately asked Tommy to make sure that Joel was your patrol partner as often as possible, because you felt "safer" with him... you're not sure if he'd really believed you.
You're back in the ski lodge again tonight, both of you situated on the couch in your usual positions, on opposite ends and facing each other. It's ridiculous how quickly it's taken you both to get used to these sessions, the casual feeling of it making it even hotter somehow.
"How many fingers are you using this time?" Joel murmurs, eyeing you where you're touching yourself, unable to fully see what he'd like to.
"Up to you," you breathe, still prodding your clit, "How many do you want me to use?"
"Three," he replies, and you watch as he pulls his cock free from the confines of his jeans, jutting large and solid against his stomach, "Real slow, then real fast."
You nod, lifting your hips up to pull your panties free and expose yourself to him, legs wide.
"Stick to my rhythm," he tells you, watching as you trail your middle finger through your folds, "If I stop, you stop. If I tell you to stop-"
"I stop," you answer for him, throwing him a smug smile, "Same rules as always."
He stares at you without speaking, just waiting. You get the hint and begin to slide your finger inside slowly, making eye contact with him under your lashes and smiling languidly. He fists himself just as slow, looking down at your finger and licking his lips.
"Slow enough for you?" you whisper, adding a second and grinning when his eyes darken, "Should I go a bit faster?"
"Not yet," he whispers, thumbing the head of his cock and fucking into his hand at the same pace as your finger, "Keep it nice and slow for me 'til I say so."
You obey, fucking yourself with your middle and ring finger at the slowest pace you can muster. No matter how annoying his orders are you always do as you're told, not because you're afraid of any sort of consequence, but because you like seeing him enjoy himself, seeing him take control. You've only known him for about six months but you've known for a while that he's been lacking any sort of control in his life for a long time; you're glad to be the one who can give it to him.
"Add your third," he whispers and you oblige, slipping your index inside yourself alongside the others, "Good girl," he breathes, "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"
You nod, your smugness immediately starting to fade. When he talks to you like this, praises you, it's impossible to keep your hard exterior up for much longer, feeling yourself submit to him. In any other circumstance you love to challenge him, to argue, but in these moments it's the last thing on your mind. You do as you're told, and that's the end of it. He needs control, you need submission.
"Tell me," he whispers.
"I'm your good girl," you breathe, shivering and continuing to shove your fingers in and out at his pace.
He smirks, "Yeah you are."
You continue to fuck yourself at his painfully slow pace, watching him fist his cock at the same speed. He likes to tease you, to build you up until you're begging for it. You thumb your clit and start to whimper, legs trembling.
"Okay, faster now," he tells you, voice low and sultry, "Not too fast, though. Watch me," he tugs at his cock at a bit quicker of a pace, still much too slow for you but you can't do much else but obey him, mirroring him with the thrust of your fingers, "That's it, like that."
After several more thrusts he suddenly stops stroking himself, stilling in his palm. You groan, halting your movements, following the rules.
"How is it that you follow orders so God damn well when you've got your panties around your ankles?" he asks, voice rough, "Yet when we're actually patrollin' you don't listen to a word I say?"
"I'm not your good girl when we're patrolling," you reply with a teasing smile, "But I could be, you know."
He rolls his eyes, "Enough, it's not happening," he nods to your hand, still motionless at your core, "Play with your clit for a second, give me a chance to breathe."
There it is, the line he won't cross. You've already told him that you're willing to give yourself completely over to him, be exactly who he needs, but no matter how many times you try he just won't budge. It's disappointing, truly, because you really do like him. Sure, he's a bit of an ass, plus he's about thirty years older than you, but you've seen the side of him he doesn't show to others. Maybe only hints, but you've seen it. And you care about him.
"I don't do this with anyone else, you know," you whisper, pressing your index finger against your clit and rubbing small circles into it, "You're the only one I'd let treat me the way you do."
He looks at you curiously, raising an eyebrow, "I treat you good, don't I?"
You nod, whimpering a bit as you rub yourself harder, "You do, but you're the only one I'd ever submit to like this, you know that, right?"
He hums, brushes the wide head of his cock with the tip of his thumb, "I know, baby. But it feels so good, doesn't it? You like being my good girl, don't you?"
You bite down on your lip, core aching as your fingers lay still against your folds, save for the index that continues to furiously stimulate your clit, "I do," you whisper, cheeks warming, "I fucking love it."
"There you go," he murmurs softly, then begins to move his fist again, "Use your fingers again, baby, get your pussy all full for me."
You don't need telling twice, your three fingers plunging deep inside yourself without any hesitation. You whimper when your fingertips brush against your favorite spot, so close yet so far. You eye Joel's cock and try to imagine what it would feel like for it to really be inside you, the fat tip of it pounding relentlessly against the deepest parts of your cunt, his girth stretching you out so much your whole body would be shaking. You feel your mouth drop open involuntarily, brow furrowing.
He follows your gaze and frowns at you, pumping himself a bit faster, "You can't have it," he whispers, like he can read your mind, "I know you want it, pretty girl, but you can't. I'm sorry."
"Why?" you mewl, sounding absolutely pathetic as you keep fucking yourself, "I want it so bad, Joel."
"I know you do," he closes his eyes and leans his head back, "Don't ask me why, you just can't."
You'd pout, tease him a little, but he's not looking at you anymore and it physically makes you ache, the way he avoids any allusion to actual sex, an actual relationship. You've asked him so many times and it's always the same answer, never a real reason. You wish you knew why, wish you knew if there was anything at all you could do to make him open up to you.
Instead you mirror his position, tilting your head back against the arm of the sofa and fucking up into yourself, listening to his labored breathing and the slap of skin whenever his fist hits his belly.
"Fast as you can now, baby," he mutters gruffly, close to the edge, "Need you to come for me, need you to be good."
"I'm always good for you, aren't I?" you whimper, opening your eyes to peer at him again, "I always listen, I never break your rules."
"That's right."
"So why can't you fuck me?" you sit up suddenly, yanking your fingers out of yourself and looking at him angrily. He sits up just as quickly, eyes narrowing as he releases his cock and stares at you, "I'm serious, Joel. I want an actual answer."
"You just broke a rule," he mutters and you sigh exasperatedly.
"I'm sorry for breaking the rules," you genuinely mean it; you know how important this control is for him, but you can't help it, "I'll submit again if you just tell me why you won't fuck me. Do you...do you not want me? Is that it? 'Cause I can accept that, I just want to hear you say it. I'm sick of not knowing."
He stares at you incredulously, hand coming up to squeeze the space between his brow and nose, "Jesus, of course I want you, but it's not that simple."
"Yes it-"
"It's not," he interrupts you, shaking his head, "I can't...this isn't..." he exhales deeply, "This isn't the time for this conversation, okay?" You hear raw emotion in his voice, buried deep but still present. Fuck, you didn't mean to make him feel bad.
"...Okay," you finally whisper, "I'm sorry."
"S'okay," he runs a hand through his hair, "Look, we can stop-"
"No," you lean back and open your legs wide again, putting yourself on display for him, "No, I wanna be your good girl again, please let me."
"We don't-"
"Joel," you whimper, slipping your fingers back inside, "Let me be your good girl."
His hard expression fades, eyes softening as he peers at you, watching you fuck himself for him.
"It's all yours, even if you won't touch me," you whisper, using your other hand to pull yourself open for him, showing him how full you are, feeling your orgasm start to build in your tummy, "It's yours," you repeat, whimpering.
He nods, stroking himself again hard and fast, brow furrowing in pleasure as he keeps his eyes trained on you, "That's right," he murmurs, "It's mine. You're mine."
You close your eyes tight, "I'm gonna come."
"Go ahead, pretty girl," you hear him groan, the snap of his wrist making you completely come undone, "Squeeze around those fingers, pretend they're mine, okay? You can do that, you can pretend."
You shudder at his words and feel your orgasm overtake you, the image of Joel's thick fingers pounding into you enough to send you over the edge. You moan loudly, crying out his name and tossing your head back as you come.
"Good girl," he groans, voice strangled, "Such a good fucking girl for me."
You close your eyes as you ride out the waves of your release, fingers still pumping gently inside of you until it's too much and you pull them out. Sighing contentedly, you open your eyes again and watch Joel relentlessly fuck into his fist, belt buckle still jangling against the couch as he gasps. You want nothing more than to reach forward and take him in your own hand, help him ride out his own release, but you don't. Because those are the rules.
Instead you just watch him, smile at him as he shuts his eyes tight and groans deeply, coming into his fist. You watch the thick white liquid cover the sides of his fingers and you involuntarily salivate, jaw going slack.
"Fuck," you breathe, "Wish I could taste you."
He groans again, hand stilling as he breathes heavily and starts to come down, eyes closed. You sit quietly, panties still hanging off one of your ankles. You'd usually already be putting your clothes back on at this point, but something tells you to stay still, don't move, he's gonna do something different.
He swallows and looks up at you, stares at you for a few moments. You're unsure whether the regular Joel is about to come back, tell you it's time to go back on patrol, grab your gun and be quiet. Or is this still your Joel, the one who tells you you're pretty and good, makes you feel less alone in this shitty world.
"Here," he says, shaking his head and bringing his come-coated fingers up to your mouth, "If you wanna taste, you have five seconds."
Your mouth pops open in surprise, hesitating only for a second before you lean forward and wrap your lips around his fingers, feeling the salty taste of him flood your mouth. Your cunt begins to throb again, your eyes closing as you suck and lick and take everything he's giving you. When you open your eyes again he's still looking at you, but his expression is soft, tender.
"Good girl," he murmurs.
this is now a series, and other parts can be found on my masterlist.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#pedro pascal fic#tlou fic#*#this was so fun to write#i like this dynamic a lot and might end up writing more for them who knows#fic: soft!dom joel
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to have and to hold
pairing: bang chan x female reader
summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.
word count: 1.4k
warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!
a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all
till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist
“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?”
Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.
Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.
“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”
“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.
“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”
“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.
“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”
“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.”
“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”
“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”
“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”
—
Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.
Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.
Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach.
When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.
“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.
“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”
Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.
Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball,
some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.
He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.
“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.
Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.
“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”
“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”
Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.
“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”
He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.
It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.
“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”
By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.
Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.
When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal.
After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.
Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.
When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.
That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck.
“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”
“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”
“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist
#to have and to hold#till death do us part collection#chahnniesroom#skz fanfic#skz fluff#skz fic#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x female reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#chan x y/n#chan x reader#chan x you#chan fluff#skz imagines#stray kids#chan#bang chan
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I Put A Spell on You - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #03
Summary: After a tense week and a training session, Wanda finally had enough of your attitude.
Warnings: (+18), heavy smut with power dynamics, brat tamer!Wanda and sub!Reader, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, a lot of teasing, blindfold and magical restrictions, enchanted strap, kind of rough, implied enemies to lovers, some cursing | Words: 3.559k
A/N-> This is almost late. I totally forgot I had to post the stories.
General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad
-&-
It was Natasha's idea, or at least it was a Black Widow kind of thing.
Most of what Wanda knew about it came from Steve's official report on the training, and the rest of the story came from Sam gossiping around the tower.
But in a nutshell: You had your vision temporarily impaired on the last mission, you were knocked out by it and it almost fucked everything up. Wanda would have thought that this was all it took to diminish your ego a bit, but instead, you and Nat had a weird widow's agreement about eliminating weaknesses or whatever, and this was adapted to your training.
The whole story was the reason you were training with a blindfold on.
And don't let Natasha hear this, but you were an impressive fighter, even more than the older widow. Somehow you were more agile and stronger than Nat, and it was the kind of thing that made Clint remark worriedly about how much harder your widow training could have been and secretly made Wanda's heart beat faster.
But back to the point: Wanda shared very few training shifts with you. Steve and Nat found peaceful interaction between team members advantageous, so as you didn't get on so well, she had fewer training sessions in your company.
Well, that changed because you seemed determined to prove that you could block blows without seeing them.
"Wow, you're still here." It came out more ironic than she wanted, but Wanda was actually almost impressed. It had been nearly a month since the whole thing had started, and this training was coming after a particularly exhausting mission. She was just going for a quick session - so that the muscles wouldn't lose habit as Steve liked to say - when she found you in the empty tower gym.
The eyes covered by a black cloth were an almost comical sight, or at least, Wanda assumed that finding it funny was what she was feeling, every time she saw your serious and concentrated form, sweating in the gym.
"Good evening, Wanda." You greeted her without looking at her, your head down. You were listening to her movement she assumed.
Wanda muttered the greeting back, busy leaving her belongings on the bench and looking for a treadmill. But you cleared your throat. "Don't you want a real challenge?"
She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and that would be you, of course."
You smile, your hands behind your body. Wanda thinks she likes the blindfold, it allows her to stare you brazenly, without you even knowing.
"I'm a legendary fighter, yes."
She has to laugh at how naturally you say that. She takes a quick look at the treadmill, and well, smashing your ass really does sound more interesting.
"Okay, real challenge, show me what you've got."
Wanda positions herself on the opposite side of the mat from you, and clears her throat when you remain static.
" Won't you take your shoes off?"
She grimaces softly. Yeah, your hearing was starting to impress. Sighing begrudgingly, she uses magic to make the shoes come off and float away, and before she even has a chance to speak, you do.
"No magic tricks." It sounds like a serious warning, rather than a request, and Wanda doesn't miss a chance to torment you.
"Oh, is that too much for a legendary fighter?" She mocks, but all she gets back is an easy chuckle that she isn't able to reciprocate because you adjust your training gloves and the movement is distracting enough.
After a moment, you get into position. "I'm ready."
"At last." She scoffs, stepping forward.
Ultimately, she's impressed. And she almost begins to believe that maybe the cloth is fake - there's no chance that you can dodge absolutely all the blows she's so exhaustively learned with such ease.
It doesn't take long for Wanda to start getting impatient, and for you to start smiling at her, in that smug way that makes her skin itch.
She makes a mistake, and it's enough for you to knock her to the ground.
"Again." You say, standing next to her, equally out of breath but without a scratch. Wanda huffs.
"How the fuck are you doing this?" She asks, getting to her feet with a magical push. You swallow dry, taking a step back, very alert.
"Practice, of course." You mutter. "Are you ready to continue?"
But Wanda narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly at your sudden alertness. She decides to test a theory, and red sparks appear in the air near your head.
The leap you make in the other direction makes her giggle playfully.
"Something wrong, darling?"
You grumble, raising a hand in warning, irritably hitting exactly the right spot to point it at her. "Stop this. I told you, no magic."
But Wanda is tired, and she's feeling naughty tonight. Something about your vulnerability makes her body heat up.
She chuckles darkly, taking steps away that only make you swallow dry. "Someone's scared." She sighs, and the sparks appear again. You gasp, clearly anxious and not knowing where to strike.
It's Wanda's fault, there are too many of those and magic is much harder to defend against.
She chuckles at your state, and you snap back almost immediately."That's not funny, Maximoff."
A magical tug pushes under your knee, behind your elbows, near your foot. Everything makes you jump with fright and sends Wanda into a fit of giggles.
"You're not so cocky when you're scared."
In a desperate attempt, you try to attack the magic, which only disappears into thin air against your skin. Wanda just stands back, watching the scene with amusement.
With an impatient grunt, you raise a finger at her. "Stop this shit, I'm warning you-"
"Don't be rude, darling. I like you best when you're polite." Wanda interrupts, and your exclamation of indignation turns into a grunt of pain when a magical tug forces you to your knees on the mat.
"What the hell?" You gasp, raising your hand to remove the blindfold.
But the sensation that follows is like ropes grabbing your wrists and pinning your fists behind your back. Your heart is racing at the same moment. "Wanda, what the actual fuck you're doing?"
Although you can't see her, you hear her very well. Her slow steps towards you, until she makes you jump gently when she touches your cheek. You swallow dry. "Stop this bullshit, Wanda, I'm serious."
She pushes her tongue into the roof of her mouth, a clicking sound that makes you swallow dry again. Her fingers caress your cheek, and the lack of visibility makes everything all too vivid.
"You have a very dirty mouth, kotenok (kitten)." She retorts in a tone that makes you shudder from head to toe. With a dry throat, you look up, even though you can't actually see her.
It must be a good thing for your sanity, though. God knows what you would have done if you could have seen the way Wanda's eyes darkened with hunger when she saw you on your knees, looking up at her.
Licking your lips, you say calmly: "Be very careful with your next action, Wanda. It will be definitive for our future interactions."
She bites back a smile, and her hand leaves your cheek for your hair, the motion in the strands at the nape of your neck drawing a stubborn sigh from your lips.
"See, it's much better when you're polite." She says softly, letting her fingers slide between the strands, stroking your hair gently. "That's how it goes. You behave nicely, and you're rewarded. Behave badly, and well..."
To illustrate, she moves her free fingers. You hear the magic before you feel it - right under your blouse, like a rough tug on your left nipple that makes you grunt in pain.
"Fuck, you little shit-" But swearing at her makes it worse. The sensation is repeated on the other nipple, not real enough to hurt the flesh, but enough to cause pain. And in the current scenario, on your knees and blindfolded, just the right amount for a wave of pleasure to wet your panties.
It takes you by surprise, so much so that instead of grunting in pain, you practically moan. And that makes Wanda smile, especially as she can see the blush rising on your face.
"You need to improve that attitude." She starts again, adjusting the grip on your hair to force your face in her direction again. You bite the inside of your cheek hard, certain that this time, you would have whimpered. "You've been acting like this for too long, you've gotten comfortable in your naughtiness. I can fix that."
"Wanda..."
"Shush, darling, now you don't talk. You listen. Isn't that what you were hoping to train yourself to do?" She teases, and the grip loosens. You don't have to obey, but you're desperate to do so.
With a lump in your throat, you nod and remain silent. And the next second, when the sound of a zipper fills the room, you grow restless and alert.
You're ready to question when Wanda sighs.
"Shit, honey, that's been working for me too." She panted and you were dying to understand what the hell she was talking about when, along with her shortened breaths, you heard a sound that shook your body to its core.
Was it really possible that Wanda Maximoff was fingering herself right in front of you?
"W-wanda-"
The slap isn't magical - nor is it weak. Your cheek burns, but Wanda grabs your face anyway.
"I told you to be quiet." She grunts, and in a way, the affected voice is confirmation enough of your suspicions. You can feel your underwear starting to feel uncomfortable with the dampness gathering. "You've talked a lot of shit since I joined the team, now you listen, you brat."
Not only do you hear it, but as the movements continue, you can smell it. Her sweet, intoxicating essence is enough to make you moan for the first time in the night.
Wanda let that one slide, because the sound is too good to punish you for it.
And because you've held still long enough for her fingers not to be enough anymore, she's decided that you deserve a reward.
"Open your mouth, darling, I've got a little treat for you." She sighs, and you obey almost immediately, even though your face is burning.
Wanda removes her fingers from inside herself, sighing softly as she does so. Unhurried, she presses them against your tongue and has to bite down hard on her own when you buckle forward, sucking on her fingers with enthusiasm.
"Look at you, who knew you were such an eager little thing?" She taunts, although the sensation of your tongue on her fingers is almost making her lose her train of thought. She can only imagine how deliciously warm you must feel elsewhere.
You just keep moaning, sucking all her wet pleasure from her fingerprints, and Wanda has to reach down and grab your hair once more to regain some of her sense of grounding.
Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again, but you don't seem to mind. "Did you like your treat, darling?"
You open your mouth to reply but hesitate before doing so. And Wanda smiles proudly when she realizes. "Oh, dear, you can speak if it's to answer my questions. Tell me how much you appreciated your treat."
Swallowing dryly, you lower your head. "I loved it, Wanda. And I would love to taste it from the source."
She bites back a giggle, using one hand to lift your chin. "You didn't even thank me."
"Th-"
The magic squeeze comes directly to your clit now. You let out a little yelp, but Wanda's hand doesn't let you lower your head.
"I didn't tell you to thank me. Rather, I was reprimanding you because good manners don't come to you naturally." She clarifies, and with tears of pain and pleasure in your covered eyes, you nod in understanding. Wanda sighs. "I'm going to make a good girl out of you, even if I have to keep you on edge all night for it."
The whimper that escapes your throat is humiliating, Wanda loves the sound.
The next sensation on your skin is that of a chain, wrapping itself around your neck.
"We need to continue this in a more private place, darling. Where no one will interrupt us." Wanda guides, and the chain gives a gentle tug, the hint caught just in time by you, who are on your feet almost immediately. Wanda bites back a smile. "Fuck, I could get used to this."
She manages to lead you quietly and obediently through the empty corridors, but your anxiety overcomes you at the door to her room.
You stop walking, gulping. Wanda smiles because you're waiting for permission to ask a question, even when you're dying to have it answered.
"It's my room." She clarifies, but you shake your head, signaling that it wasn't your doubt. She shouldn't be impressed that you've already become able to memorize the sound of the way to the rooms, but she is. Smiling, Wanda brings a hand up to your face again. "What do you wish to ask, darling?"
You sigh at the permission granted. "Are you... are you sure? About this..." Wanda is taken aback. Your hands are still bound, you're still blindfolded, at her mercy, and yet you're worried about how sure and comfortable she is. You take a deep breath as if trying to find the right words. "This is important, Wanda. We can't go back to how things were before if I come in. And if you're not sure, send me away, and I swear we won't talk about this again and-"
Wanda moves in, it's quick and less hungry than she thought your first kiss would be, considering recent events and frankly, the way she's been craving you.
Your lips are soft and kind of addictive. Your mouth kisses her with real confidence as if you've done it a dozen times, and Wanda has no idea how often you've done it in your dreams.
But reality is superior to any of those.
You grunt against her mouth, impatiently, and Wanda knows it's because of your trapped hands. But all she can do is smile mischievously, using hers to pull you by the shirt into the room.
The door is magically closed behind the two of you.
You're not surprised to be put on your knees again - even if a moan of protest escapes you. Wanda smiled, feeling a wave of excitement at your vulnerable anxiety, your eyes blindfolded and your head moving gently as if you expected to hear what she was up to.
Wanda bit her lip, working on her own clothes without magic, so that you could hear the motions. It brought a shiver to watch you squirm gently, swallowing dry as if you could picture her naked. And your pleading sigh, practically meowing her name, made Wanda lose her mind.
Now wearing only her underwear, she grabbed your face again and kissed you with everything she had - teeth and tongue - and swallowed every throaty moan until she needed to breathe again. When she pulled away, a line of saliva connected your lips.
"We need a system, darling..." She murmured, her fingers working to open the belt loop of your sweatpants. "You know the color one? Green for go, and red for stop?"
"Y-yes, Wanda, please, just keep going-" She interrupted with a kiss mixed with a giggle at your desperate response, the hands that had opened your pants helping you to the bed, laying you down. The magical chains had adapted, and your hands were attached to the headboard now, holding you open for Wanda. Your arousal grew so intense that Wanda could see your muscles twitching.
She sighed contentedly as she sat on your hips, watching your curious and expectant movements. Magic did the work of removing your pants, but Wanda was taking her time teasing your skin under your blouse, having the best time in the world watching you squirm and gasp.
"Tell me what you want."
You swallowed dryly, forcing your voice out: "Anything you want to give me."
Wanda bit back a giggle, her fingers tracing your torso. "Good answer, darling." She sighs, and in one tug, rips off your shirt. The remaining pieces are swept away as you try to keep your breathing under control. Wanda adjusts herself and sits on your stomach, her wetness and warmth against your skin making you wince. "I have an idea, you let me use you and I might consider letting you touch me, what do you think?"
"Fuck." You moan, and Wanda can't let that one slide, though the slap on your cheek is light, and much more of a teasing warning than a punishment. It makes you throb inside.
"Language." She warns, and you sigh.
"I'm sorry."
Wanda strokes the soft red on your cheek, leaning in in a way that makes her wetness slide down your abdomen. The involuntary contraction of your muscles draws a gasp from both of you.
"Behave yourself." She warns, and it seems to be as much about the language as your slight movements, and although you nod, you repeat the gesture. Wanda gasps and grips your cheeks tightly. But you force your body upwards, and her grip loosens as she begins to grind against your stomach, giving in to the sensation.
It brings some kind of pride to know that she's just as affected by this as you are, but even as she's drenching your skin with her hot pleasure, Wanda lowers herself to wrap her hands around your throat and as she uses your tense abdomen to reach her own orgasm, her grip warns you who's in charge. She doesn't take long to come - all the teasing outside has gotten under her skin - and it's the hottest thing that's ever occurred to you, even if you can't see it.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She gasps through the last waves of her orgasm, her hips thrusting hard into you, who pants beneath her. Her juices run down your belly and you squirm impatiently.
"Please, Wanda. Let me touch you." You beg breathlessly, but she kisses you hungrily, her hands going down to your waist. At first, you think she's going to give you what you want, but Wanda gropes you in an unusual way, and you hear her magic before you feel a new volume between your legs. It takes you by surprise, the enchanted item and your tense body makes Wanda break the kiss.
With her forehead pressed against yours, she asks: "Red or green, darling?" As if to encourage an answer, Wanda grabs the conjured fake cock in her hand. It's really enchanted because you feel everything and the pleasure of the moment's stimulation brings a gasp. You move your hips, in the same direction as her without realizing what you're doing, and Wanda giggles. "I still need words."
"Fuck, green, yes." You moan and Wanda gives you a warning bite on the lips for cursing, but your head is spinning with pleasure from the movements that continue between the two of you.
Toys are nothing new - but a magic strap-on that you can feel as an extension of you certainly is. And Wanda seems willing to drive you to the brink of insanity when she simply adjusts the toy at her entrance and sinks in all at once.
You whimper, almost coming at once. She rocks gently against your lap without caring.
It's hard to breathe, especially when Wanda picks up speed and practically jumps on your cock, her warm walls clenching around you, trying to stop you from pulling out. Everything is too hot and just when you're ready to come, Wanda grabs your throat.
"Hold it." It's an order, almost impossible to obey when she rides your lap with such determination. You choke, struggling against the chains, the hot knot in your belly begging to break.
You almost sob. "I-I can't... please-"
She lets out a wicked giggle and doesn't stop moving. "Don't worry, babe, you're not coming. No matter how much you want to."
Wanda moans, and suddenly her movements stop. She groans heavily, gets impossibly tight and you think you're going to come, but something holds you back. Almost like a force of strength, and when Wanda falls limp against you, and her body continues to tremble from the intensity of the orgasm in contrast to yours, burning with more frustration, you understand what she's done.
"Wanda, what the fuck?" you gasped in a mixture of disbelief and irritation. And instead of losing her temper, she giggles mischievously at you.
"That's why you don't deserve to cum, baby. You're a foul-mouthed brat." She bites your jaw as she sits up, and you gasp, feeling her clench around you. "You're not coming until you improve this attitude."
She thrusts into you as a warning and although you feel as if you could come, your body simply won't obey. Because of the blindfold, you can't see her red irises either.
"You're so mean, Wanda." You groan, sighing at the sensation of her pulling out.
"Oh, darling, we have barely started."
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#elizabeth olsen x reader#kinktober 2023#wanda maximoff oneshots
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The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)
Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav
Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here
Rating: Explicit, 18+
Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.
Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking
A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!
Word count: ~5.3k
The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.
It's a day like any other, really.
After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.
"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"
You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."
Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."
"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."
The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"
You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."
"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.
You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"
Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."
"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.
"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."
You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.
"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.
"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.
You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”
Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”
“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”
The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.
It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.
The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.
Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”
He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”
“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”
You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.
“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”
Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”
You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”
The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”
With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”
Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”
You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”
“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”
“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”
His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.
Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”
“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”
“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”
The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”
“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water.
“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.
“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”
As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.
Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.
Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.
Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.
"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"
“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.
You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."
He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.
Then his hands get to work.
At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.
Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.
You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.
And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.
Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.
I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.
Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.
“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.
His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”
“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.
“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”
You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.
“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.
It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.
So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.
"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.
Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”
You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”
“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”
You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”
His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”
If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.
His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.
The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.
“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”
“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”
Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.
You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.
So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.
Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."
"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.
He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”
Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.
When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.
You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more.
The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.
Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.
His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–
"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."
“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”
Then his fangs pierce you.
When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.
He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.
Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.
A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.
You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.
He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.
All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.
One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.
With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.
"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"
You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.
He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.
Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.
Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.
Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.
Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.
Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.
However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation.
Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."
"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.
"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.
Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”
His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.
“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.
“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.
Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”
“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.
After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force.
“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.
Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.
So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.
Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."
For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."
When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."
He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"
Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.
And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.
When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.
It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.
So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.
Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub.
However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.
You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.
The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.
You don’t need much more of an invitation.
Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.
"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."
"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.
"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."
He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"
"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."
"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.
You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.
You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.
The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.
The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.
Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.
What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.
You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.
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reiderwriter's Kinktober mlist '23
Hi everyone! I'm super excited to announce that I'll be partaking in kinktober this year! It's my first year as a writer on tumblr and AO3 so I'm excited to give this a go!
I'll be posting (almost) a fic a day for the 31 days of October. All of them are Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader, and the details about each fic/kink can be found below the cut!
Because the tumblr algorithm doesn't reward daily posting and will probably shadow-ban me for posting daily (thanks to everyone who gave me that advice), I'll be posting everything on AO3, and only crossposting here twice a week. I know this isn't ideal for some of you, but I will go back to regular posting after October!
Let me know which day you're most looking forward to (me and day 1, 7, and 30 👀)!!
Without further ado, the masterlist!
tumblr uploads* || ao3 uploads
Sun 1st - Hate Sex - Mean!Dom! Spencer
Mon 2nd - Leather - roommate! Spencer
Tue 3rd - Collaring - pt.2 Black Cat reader
Wed 4th - Prostitution - sub! Spencer
Thu 5th - Titfucking - sub! Spencer
Fri 6th - DubCon - Reupload on AO3*
Sat 7th - Breeding - FWB! Spencer
Sun 8th - Virginity - coworker! Spencer
Mon 9th - Stripping - sub! Spencer
Tue 10th - Sex Toys - sub! Spencer
Wed 11th - Blindfold - soft dom! Spencer
Thu 12th - Somnophilia - dom! Spencer
Fri 13th - Menophilia - perv! Spencer
Sat 14th - Orgasm Denial - mean dom! Spencer
Sun 15th - Panties - DBF! Spencer/Hotch Daughter! Reader
Mon 16th - Temperature Play - dom! Spencer
Tue 17th - Make-up Sex - I Can See You pt. 2
Wed 18th - DP - dom! Spencer
Thu 19th - Spanking - Professor! Spencer
Fri 20th - Uniform - dom! Spencer
Sat 21st - Watersports - dom! Spencer
Sun 22nd - S&M - coworker! Spencer
Mon 23rd - Intercrural Sex - perv! Spencer
Tue 24th - Face sitting - munch! Spencer
Wed 25th - Praise Kink - dom! Spencer
Thu 26th - Edgeplay - dom! Spencer
Fri 27th - Daddy Kink - dom! Spencer
Sat 28th - Breath Play - coworker! Spencer
Sun 29th - Masturbation - cowork! Spencer
Mon 30th - Free Use - dom! Spencer
Tue 31st - Soft/ Vanilla - coworker! Spencer
*a reupload of a fic that is already posted here on tumblr (I don't have any other ideas for DubCon rn, rip)
*tumblr uploads are either based on existing requests (Tuesday posts) or longer 4-5k word fics with more plot than just porn (Sunday posts).
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#kinktober 23#kinktober#Spencer reid kinktober#Criminal minds kinktober#matthew gray gubler#criminal minds smut
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prettier than a peach (john "bucky" egan x reader)
In which you're his favorite nurse, and John Egan tries his hardest to win your heart.
Words: 1.8K
Warnings: Bucky Egan is a warning all on his own. Fluffy, fluffy fluff.
Disclosure: Please do not copy my work on any other sites. I will be posting this here & on ao3 shortly. This fic is based on the characters brought to life in the Apple TV series Masters of the Air, not the real people the characters were based on.
Note: Peach!Reader is going to make many appearances, I'm going to make this a series. Without further adieu, enjoy.
It all started on a Saturday morning. It was early—really early. You hadn't really expected to have anyone walking around near the infirmary, but at half past 0300, you heard the sounds of heavy footfalls, with slurred speech and another low voice arguing.
You get up to look out the window, and not a second goes by before the door swings open. You recognize the two men instantly: Major Gale "Buck" Cleven is half dragging Major John "Bucky" Egan into the infirmary.
"Morning, ma'am." Major Cleven's blue eyes zero in on you immediately, and he offers you a kind (and apologetic) smile. "My buddy here had a bit too much to drink and got himself into a scuffle with some guys at the bar."
Your gaze flickers to Major Egan, studying him with a calculating gaze. He's going to have a black eye, you notice, and he's holding onto the left side of his ribs. It's not the first time you've heard of the Major getting into a fight, but it's the first time it's happened on your shift.
"Alright, Major." You're addressing Egan now, coming to his side to support his left side. "Let's get you settled in bed so I can take a look at those ribs."
You are wholly unprepared for the absolute human hurricane that is Major John Egan.
"Tryin' to get me in bed already, doll?" His words are slurred from too much alcohol, but his voice is deep and husky, and you hate the way it makes you shiver. "I don't even know your name."
Major Cleven sucks in a breath and rolls his eyes. "John Clarence Egan." That accent drawls his friend's name, and his tone is very much annoyed. "You're in the presence of a lady—a nurse—for crying out loud. Behave."
"Oh, c'mon, she walked right into that one." He insists, "She thought it was funny. You thought it was funny, right, doll?"
Stormy blue eyes are suddenly fixed on your face. It's almost like time stops for you; of course you've seen him around before, but the moment you really look into his eyes, it's like you can see your whole life ahead of you. He's quiet now, just watching you, and he finds himself absolutely anamored with the delicate blush working its way onto your face.
"It was a little funny." You admit it, but you don't meet his eyes again. You're too afraid of what you'll see on his face, because while you're falling hard and fast at first sight, he's only flirting with a woman. That's all it is to him, you're sure of it.
His chest is warm when you open his jacket and roll up his shirt. You have to ignore how beautifully masculine he is on order to focus on your job. Your eyes flicker to his abdomen, and sure enough, there are wicked bruises starting to show on the skin that covers his ribs. You're pretty sure they're not broken, but you have to be sure.
"This may hurt." You warn him, your fingers prodding gently at his side, and he hisses quietly under his breath. You don't feel anything out of place, but he'll definitely need a few hours of rest and something to ease the pain.
"Your hands are freezing." He grumbles, and before you can say anything, he's got both of them in his much bigger, warmer hands. "There, that's better."
"You're unbelievable, John Egan." Major Cleven speaks up from behind you, his tone more exasperated than anything else.
You carefully extract your hands from Major Egan's, and you try to ignore the way he pouts when you're no longer touching him. "I'll keep him overnight for observation, Major Cleven. Make sure he rests and heals up a bit."
Major Cleven looks strangely relieved, but still, he frowns. "Are you sure? I can handle Bucky; I don't want him causing you any trouble."
His gentle demeanor makes you smile. "I appreciate that, Major, but I've dealt with far rowdier men than Major Egan here. You go on and get some rest; I'll handle this."
Major Egan looks irritated that you and his best friend were talking about him like he wasn't even there. "Just call me Bucky. Or I'll take John." He tells you, his tone demanding, his lips pulled into yet another pout.
"You behave yourself." Major Cleven points a finger at him, his face stern. When he turns back to you, he offers another warm smile. "You might as well call me Buck, too, since you're saving me from trying to sleep in the same room as that one while he's drunk."
You offer your name in return, and you offer a comforting smile as you shoo Buck off to bed.
It's quiet for a moment after the other Major takes his leave. You wonder if the alcohol has made Major Egan fall asleep. You're surprised to see his eyes open and staring directly at you when you turn around.
"Can't remember if I've ever seen you around before." He says, his words still slightly slurred as he speaks. You can't recall ever having heard a voice like his before. Gravely, warm and steady, even with alcohol in his system. "I'd remember that face; you're so pretty."
"And you're drunk." You answer, turning away before he can notice that you're blushing. You've dealt with flirty airmen before, but this is the first time it's really gotten to you. "Get some rest, Major."
He's quiet for a moment, and you're grateful for a reprieve from the flirting as you mark the log book with a pencil. The only noise for a few moments is the lead scratching against the paper as you write.
"I'm gonna call you Peach."
When you turn back, his lips tug into the most heart-stopping smirk you've ever seen. "You could just call me Nurse." You point out, and for some reason, that only seems to egg him on.
"Well, I like Peach. You're prettier than a peach. Sweet as one too; look at that blush." You're sure you've forgotten how to breathe.
"You're a menace." You answer after you've finally gotten a hold of your emotions. "And it's early; you need rest. Sleep."
"How about a goodnight kiss first?" You almost toss the log book at him. Almost. "Just one on the forehead, and then I'll sleep. Scout's honor, Peach."
You sigh, your eyes darting over his face for a moment. Sure, he's a flirt, but you've never heard of him ever harming a woman. So you walk over to his bedside and lean down.
His forehead is warm, an errant curl tickling your cheek as your lips press against his skin. You feel him shudder under the touch of your lips against him, but then his breathing evens back out as you lean away.
"Alright, Major, you got your kiss. Now sleep." He doesn't miss the way your eyes flicker to his lips and away again, but he does as he's told and rolls over onto his side.
After he falls asleep, the morning is quiet. Your shift at the infirmary ends at 0600 and the nurse who comes to relieve you doesn't seem surprised to see Bucky there. She rolls her eyes and huffs a laugh as you explain how he came to be in a bed in the infirmary.
He's shifting awake as you're leaving, and his blue eyes have just enough time to focus on your retreating form before you're gone. He was a little saddened; he'd been hoping for one more kiss.
Outside, the air is still cool, and the sun is just beginning to peek beyond the horizon. The inky blackness of the sky is lightening to a shade of blue that looks like Major Egan's eyes, and God, you have to stop thinking about him. You really didn't need to get attached.
You pass Buck on the way back to your quarters, and he waves at you with one of his dazzling smiles as he passes. He's wearing his uniform, and you know that means he'll be out in the sky soon enough. You return his smile and wave happily.
Exhaustion sweeps through you as you enter your quarters, and you make quick work of taking your hair pins out and wiping your makeup off. By the time your head hits the pillow, sleep pulls you under. The only things on your mind as you fall asleep are dark curls and blue eyes.
***
Hours later, you blink awake. There's still sunlight flittering in through the curtains over your window, and you sit up to stretch your arms and shoulders. It had to be close to dinnertime, and your stomach rumbles as you slip out of bed and dress in your uniform. Sometimes you missed your dresses back home, but you always felt a sense of pride in your olive drab skirt and jacket. You make sure to swipe on your Victory Red lipstick before you leave.
Placing your cover under your arm, you slip out of your barracks just to come face-to-face with a man. Not just any man, either.
"Peach!" He's still loud, his face wide and warm and friendly. His breath smells like the peppermint gum he's chewing, and his eyes are clear. "Don't think I didn't see you slip out of the room before I could ask for my morning kiss."
He's smiling so brightly that it's like looking at the sun. He's all white teeth and dark curls and blue eyes, his cover tucked under his arm. He's got a single flower in his free hand. You've never seen someone look so devastatingly beautiful.
"Major." You greet him, and it's a good thing you didn't put on blush when refreshing your makeup because your face is hot now. Just from looking at him. "What brings you to the women's barracks?"
"I told you, Peach. Call me Bucky. Or John." His grin never falters. You want to kiss the corner of his mouth, nip at the jawline. He's got so much energy and vitality, and your heart beats so loudly that it's a wonder he can't hear. "Well, I came to offer you this gorgeous flower I found on my way over here and ask if you'd like to dance with me tonight."
You'd forgotten all about the party tonight. A crew completing their 25th mission—you hadn't really planned on attending, but you find yourself very tempted to go. "I'm not really the party type." You admit that, and that dims the light in his eyes a little. You regret the words immediately.
"Just one dance." He steps in closer, taking up more space. He's so tall and broad-shouldered; the man takes up so much room that it makes you feel small in the best way. "For your favorite patient? After all, you did give me a good-night kiss. That's gotta count for something."
Your mind rewinds to that moment, when he was fever-warm and shivering under your lips, when you'd wanted so badly to let him kiss you all over. If you weren't blushing before, you sure are now. "Alright, Bucky," You have to ignore the way he lights up when you use his nickname. "One dance."
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Seeing Stars
Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader (Nanook x Isekai'd!Reader)
Summary: Your and Nanook's intimate moment was interrupted by your Astral Express traveling companions. Caelus spots a hickey on your neck, you make a poor excuse regarding that hickey, and all of a sudden, you find Nanook balls deep inside you. Needless to say, Nanook is called the Aeon of Destruction for a reason. And that reason isn't because of destroying the universe, but because he's going to be destroying your insides.
Note: First (horribly written) smut for Honkai Star Rail >:D I don't know how to feel about the smuts I write— I'm not a fan of the smuts I write, but I hope this is at least a tiny bit decent. For those who are new, I tried to keep the smut as gender-neutral as possible, but this smut does lean more toward AFAB!reader/female-bodied reader. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).
Warnings: Horribly written smut, oral (both receiving), deep throating, fingering, hair pulling, biting, tummy bulge, Nanook's got a big dick (are we surprised? No), cervix fucking, creampie, slight overstimulation, squirting (Nanook is called the Aeon of Destruction for a reason ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))
Word Count: 7k
You wake up to feeling someone snake their arms around your waist, pulling you against their chest. You crack one eye open and peek at the clock hanging above the door. You rub your eyes and stretch your arms and legs while yawning. A deep chuckle breaks the silence of your bedroom, causing you to jolt and turn to look at the person lying beside you. Nanook is propped up on his left arm, gazing at you with amusement.
“Why are you awake so early?” Nanook asks, peeking at the clock.
You stare at Nanook sleepily. Nanook looks away from the clock, and the two of you lock eyes for a moment. Aeons above… Nanook is so breathtaking. Nanook lies beside you with a soft groan, wrapping his right arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest. You instinctively wrap your arms around his slim waist and bury your face into the nape of his neck.
You sigh. “I can ask you the same. It’s early in the morning, and yet you’re over here, watching me sleep like a creep,” you joke, poking Nanook’s shirtless chest with your pointer finger.
Nanook chuckles and tightens his grip around your waist, kissing the side of your head. You close your eyes and slowly drift to sleep. As you’re falling asleep, the door to your room slides open. You groan to yourself and continue to keep your face buried in Nanook’s neck. Whoever slides the door open, you’re hoping they’ll leave soon.
“March, if it’s you, please let me and Nanook sleep in peace. It’s still early in the morning, and I want to sleep in before it’s early afternoon,” you say, your voice muffled against Nanook’s neck.
The person, you assume is March, huffs before stomping out of your room and sliding the door close. You peek from Nanook’s neck to see the bedroom is empty. You look at Nanook, who sighs and rests his head on the stacks of pillows. At least you and Nanook are alone, and March isn’t going to try to drag you out of your room at the crack of dawn. You stare at the Aeon of Destruction lying beside you. Nanook raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his lips curving up into a smirk.
Nanook leans in and kisses the corner of your lips. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he cages you between his body and your bed. You peek to see his arms beside your head, his biceps bulging as he adjusts himself above you. You gulp audibly when you notice he’s shirtless. While you did poke his shirtless chest not long ago, you didn’t fully realize that the Aeon of Destruction was shirtless the entire time. “How in the world did you not notice?”
“Why are you so pretty? Who gave you permission to be this breathtaking?” You mutter as your eyes trail up from his abs to his face.
Nanook laughs and grips your chin with one hand while balancing his entire weight with the other arm. You and Nanook look into each other's eyes, not saying anything. Nanook looks down at your lips, his eyes half-lidded. You bite your bottom lip, closing your eyes when his face gets near.
Nanook’s nose brushes against yours, shutting his eyes. Nanook presses his lips against yours, lowering himself onto you. You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you by wrapping one leg around his slim waist. Nanook breaks the kiss and begins pressing his lips on your jawlines. Nanook trails his lips from your jaws to your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on your neck.
You tangle your fingers in Nanook’s hair, tilting your head to the side to give him more space to leave small kisses and nibbles behind. Nanook kneels above you, slips his hands beneath your shirt, and gropes your chest.
“Fuck, Nanook,” you whisper, wrapping your other leg around his waist.
Nanook takes that as an opportunity to grind his groin against yours. You involuntarily squeeze your legs around his waist, whimpering when Nanook’s cock rubs against your aching entrance. You claw Nanook’s back as the Aeon continues to litter your neck with kisses. Nanook latches his lips against your neck, lightly sucking on your neck.
You run your fingers through his hair, rolling your hips against his. Nanook groans into your neck, his hands trailing from your chest to the globes of your ass, squeezing them tightly and making you grind your heat against his throbbing cock. You let out a quiet, strained gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Nanook’s pubic bone presses up against your swollen bundle of nerves.
Nanook cups your face from under your chin and tilts your head up. You stare at Nanook— eyes glazed over with pleasure and want. Nanook smirks and pecks your lips. You pout at Nanook, getting ready to protest about him stopping, when there’s a knock at the door. You and Nanook freeze in your spots, slowly looking at the door like a deer caught in headlights.
You clear your throat. “March?” You call out.
“It’s Dan Heng. Did I wake you up by any chance?” Dan Heng asks through the closed door of your room.
“No, you didn’t wake me up. But what you did do is ruin the chance of me getting fucked deep into my mattress by the Aeon of Destruction, that’s what.” You think bitterly to yourself while Nanook cracks a smile beside you. Dan Heng clears his throat from behind the door as if he’s letting you know he’s waiting for your response. You shake your head as Nanook gets off you, lying beside you with one arm tucked underneath his head.
You sit up and rub your eyes with your knuckles. “Not really. March snuck into my room a moment ago, and I told her to let me sleep in. Did something happen?” You ask, pulling the blanket up to your chest.
“Uh, yes, we were wondering if Nanook is in the room with you. Caelus mentioned he peeked into Nanook’s room, only to see it was empty, and he speculated that Nanook snuck into your room,” Mr. Yang speaks up from behind the door.
Your eyes widen, and your head snaps in Nanook’s direction. Nanook looks unbothered as he settles in your bed with his hands behind his head. March went into your room not long ago, and she didn't tell any of the three men about Nanook being in your room? Either she's up to something, or she didn't mention it to the men because she forgot. You clear your throat, looking over at Nanook. The Aeon of Destruction shrugs his shoulders, closing his eyes and rolling over on his side to wrap his arms around your waist.
How are you supposed to answer Mr. Yang's question!? It's not like you're banned from sleeping in the same bed as Nanook, right? You open your mouth to answer Mr. Yang's question, but all of a sudden, Nanook gets off your bed and walks to the door. Your eyes widen, and you kneel, attempting to grab Nanook's wrist, but he slips from your fingers. Nanook grabs the door and slides it open, leaning against the doorframe.
“And there he is,” Caelus comments, propping his hands on his hips while staring at the Aeon blankly.
Nanook raises his eyebrows at Caelus, who continues to stare at him expressionless. You toss your blanket off your body and stumble over to where the four men are standing. You can feel the awkward tension between them— especially between Caelus and Nanook. You clear your throat to break the awkward tension.
“Is there a reason why you were searching for Nanook? Did something happen?” You ask, scratching the back of your neck.
Mr. Yang smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Nothing happened. However, Caelus has voiced his concern over Nanook constantly disappearing in the middle of the night,” replies Mr. Yang.
Caelus looks away, clearing his throat. Caelus' cheeks and the tips of his ears are almost as red as Himeko's hair, only a couple of shades lighter. You chuckle while Nanook raises his eyebrows at the silver-haired man before you two. Nanook turns to you, giving you an exasperated look before turning to the three men outside of your bedroom.
Nanook pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen, when I decided to take the form of a human, I did it to protect my little star, alright? I did not sign up to have people hovering over me and watching my every move,” Nanook states, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring at the trio.
Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang all stare at Nanook. Nanook sighs, turns to you, and wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you toward him. You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing the small of Nanook's back to comfort him. You're aware of how the other men act around you, but you don't think much about it. However, Nanook isn't fond that there are nine other people who share the same sentiments as he does when it comes to you, his little star, his little one.
“Do you not remember what happened prior to your arrival to the Astral Express, Nanook, Aeon of Destruction?” Dan Heng demands, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring at the towering figure beside you.
Nanook glares at the shorter man, his nostril flaring. “I am very well aware of what happened. Why do you think I am here?” The Aeon snarls.
By this point, Nanook and Dan Heng are standing toe to toe— Nanook glaring down and Dan Heng glaring up at the Aeon. Mr. Yang and Caelus place their hands on Dan Heng's shoulders, pulling him back. Dan Heng lets out an infuriated exhale through his nose, glaring to the side with his arms over his chest.
You clear your throat. “Nanook and I will get ready for the day now, alright? Let's talk after,” you say, turning away by is stopped by Caelus gently grabbing your biceps.
“Is that a hickey?” Caelus asks, his eyes zeroing in on the base of your neck.
You quickly cover your neck, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. “Oh, fuck.” You did not know that the Aeon of Destruction left a hickey on your neck. You turn to Nanook, who looks away with his lips puckered. You narrow your eyes at Nanook, exhaling slowly through your nose while trying to remain calm. Great. First, there's tension between Nanook and Dan Heng, and now Caelus has decided to point out the apparent love bite on your neck, thus making the tension grow.
It's faint, but it's there.
“It's not a hickey! I actually burnt myself with a hair straightener!” You say.
Okay, not the best excuse you can come up with, but it's the best you can do, and you're hoping they're dumb enough to believe your little white lie. But knowing the three men standing before you and Nanook, they're not as dumb as you hoped they would be in this situation. I mean, what else were you supposed to say? “Yes, it's a hickey on my neck. Nanook marked my neck, and before this entire interaction, we were so close to taking it farther, but that didn't happen?”
Mr. Yang leans forward to get a better look at your neck. He gently grabs you by the jaws and tilts your head to the side. If you weren't in an awkward situation right now, you would've been blushing like a teenager because of the way Mr. Yang grabbed your jaws. He's so gentle, but he also reminds you of a stern father who caught his kid doing something naughty.
“It doesn't look like a burn,” Mr. Yang murmurs.
You grab Mr. Yang's hands and laugh nervously. “That’s because they're kind of new! I borrowed Himeko's straightener, and well, this happened,” you say, gesturing to the mark on your neck.
You release Mr. Yang's hand and rub the hickey. Aeons, this is even more awkward than you thought. Mr. Yang hums, crossing his arms over his chest, and looks at Dan Heng and Caelus. Just as you feared, Caelus, Dan Heng, and Mr. Yang don't believe your little white lie.
For now, the best thing you can do is to retreat to your room (with Nanook), get ready for the day, and hope that this entire situation dies down. You quickly retreat to your room, grabbing Nanook by the wrist and pulling him with you. Before you shut the door in Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Caelus' faces, you give them a fake smile.
“We'll talk about this after Nanook and I get ready for the day! While it's still super early in the morning, today will be the only day I get up early,” you say, slamming the door shut without waiting for their response.
After you slam the door in the three men's faces, Dan Heng turns to look at Mr. Yang with a deep frown. Caelus pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, propping his hands on his hips.
“That is definitely a hickey on [Y/N]'s neck,” Caelus says.
Dan Heng rolls his eyes. “Do they think we're that stupid to believe they were burned by a hair straightener?” Dan Heng mutters, walking away with Mr. Yang and Caelus following.
Back in your bedroom, you walk to your dresser and pull out clean undergarments to change into after taking a shower. You're not the type to take showers in the morning, but this time will be the only time you'll shower in the morning. Well, “morning” since you're traversing through space, and there's no time of day, really. While searching for something to wear in your closet, Nanook snakes his arms around your waist and buries his face into the nape of your neck.
You close your eyes and rest your head against his before continuing to do what you were doing.
You're not sure what you want to wear. You're on the fence about whether you want to wear something short and breathable or long and warm because there's a possible chance the Astral Express is going to be stopping by Jarilo-VI. You blank out for a moment when Nanook's big, warm, calloused hands sneak under your shirt to give your chest a light squeeze.
“Well, aren't you needy today?” You murmur, gazing at the Aeon of Destruction from the corner of your eyes.
Nanook ignores your comment, continuing to squeeze your chest and kissing your neck repeatedly. You shiver when Nanook presses his lips against a specific sensitive spot on your neck. Nanook smirks against your neck and continues where he left off before he is interrupted by Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang. Nanook grabs the bottom of your jaw with his right hand, tilts your head to the side, and continues to nibble on your neck.
“Do you have any idea how irresistible you are?” Nanook murmurs against your neck.
You grab his hand from underneath your shirt and lace your fingers with his. “I could say the same with you. You're over here parading around my bedroom shirtless with your sweat pants hanging very low around your hips,” you reply.
Nanook hums against your neck, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. Nanook's eyes nearly roll to the back of his neck after taking deep breaths of your shampoo. He can never get enough of you, and the more he has to wait, the more he feels his sanity slipping away. Without thinking, Nanook opens his mouth wide and bites down on the area where your neck and shoulders meet.
“Ah! Nanook!” You whine softly, shuddering in his arms as he manhandles you to your bed.
You fall limp in Nanook's arms as he practically drags you to your bed and tosses you like a rag doll. You stare at the ceiling— Nanook's shadow casts over you as he hovers above you, knees on each side of your hips. You gulp as the Aeon of Destruction cages you against your bed, his bangs nearly covering his eyes. Oh, you like this very much.
Nanook leans down, his lips beside your ear. “What is it, little one?” Nanook whispers.
You close your eyes, heart pounding against your chest as the Aeon above you softly nudges his nose against your cheek and slowly trails down to your neck. Never in your life would you think the Aeon of Destruction has a lot of pent-up frustrations. Can Aeons have babies? Can they reproduce? Nanook's human form certainly has a dick, but does it— Nanook bites down on your neck for the second time.
“You know I can hear your thoughts, right?” Nanook murmurs against your neck.
Your eyes snap open, and you look at Nanook like a fish out of water. Nanook pulls away from your neck and wipes his lips, smirking down at you. You gaped at him.
“Wait, you can hear my thoughts?”
Nanook nods, his shoulders bouncing as he gazes at you with amusement. “Yes, I can hear your thoughts. Did you happen to forget that we're connected with each other?” Nanook asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
You squint at Nanook, not sure whether you should believe what he's saying or not. Maybe you can say something random, and he'll have to respond to your questions. The Aeon of Destruction mindlessly massages your hipbone, waiting for you to say something. Or at least think of something so he can reply. Aside from wanting you to respond to him, Nanook wants to fuck you against the mattress already. Blood continues to rush down to his semi-harden cock as he waits (im)patiently.
You stare at Nanook like a deer caught in headlights. If you were to ask this question, would he hear it and possibly humiliate you for it? It’s worth a shot. “Do you know how bad I need you to fuck me into the mattress right now? I desperately need you inside me, or else I'll go crazy.”
Nanook smirks and leans down. “Is that so? You don't have to tell me twice, Little One. I've always wanted to hear what I can coax out of you while you're writhing beneath me,” Nanook murmurs. “Remember that dream of yours a while back?” He latches his lips onto your earlobes, lightly biting your ear.
Dream? Meaning the wet dream you had of Nanook before it was rudely interrupted by March, Dan Heng, and Caelus? The very same wet dream where it felt so real that it made you question whether it was a real thing or just a dream? You swallow the lump in your throat, sputtering out nonsense as you try to wrap your head around the wet dream you had months prior to Nanook's arrival.
“Wait, was that a dream, or was it mental communication the entire time?” You ask breathlessly.
Nanook shrugs above you, hands sneaking back under your shirt to squeeze your chest and tweak your nipples between his thumb and index finger. You gaze at the Aeon above you, wondering if what happened between you and Nanook was mental communication or if it was just another wet dream.
“Nanook?” You ask, lightly tugging on his soft hair.
Nanook snorts and releases your earlobe from between his teeth. The Aeon of Destruction will be destroying something else rather than the entirety of the universe. You would rather have Nanook destroy your insides than the universe, so you'd like to think you're saving everyone by letting the Aeon of Destruction become the Aeon of Destroying your insides. With one swift motion, Nanook tears your shirt off and tosses them to the ground.
Your nipples harden when cool air makes contact with your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. Nanook's lips trail down to your chest and suck on your nipple while tweaking the neglected nipple. You shudder underneath Nanook, wrapping your legs around his waist while he licks and lightly bites your nipples. You cover your mouth to muffle the moans, and Nanook doesn't like that. Without thinking, Nanook bites down on your nipple hard, making you cry out in pain.
“Nanook! Why did you bite my nipple?” You whine, gazing at the Aeon with teary eyes.
Nanook unlatches his lips from your nipples before sitting back on your bed. “I don't want you to cover your moans. I want the others to hear that I'm the one that's making you moan and whimper,” Nanook says, frowning at you.
You gulp and watch Nanook get off your bed and start taking his sweatpants off. You look away with embarrassment when you notice a prominent bulge beneath his boxers. It's bigger than you thought it would be. The Aeon grabs you by your ankles and pulls you toward the edge of your bed. You look at Nanook's face, making sure not to look down at the large tent forming in his pants.
Nanook chuckles, caressing your face. “Why are you suddenly shy, Little one? You were so bold and now look at you,” Nanook teases, lightly pinching your cheek. “A shy little thing.”
You bristled at Nanook's comment, looking at the Aeon with a heated glare. Unphased by your glare, Nanook laughs and leans down to kiss your lips. Nanook hooks his fingers around the band of your shorts and panties before looking at you, waiting for you to give him the signal to continue. Despite being the Aeon of Destruction, he sure is gentle. You nod, silently telling him to strip you bare.
One minute you have your pants and panties on. The next, you're completely bare in front of the Aeon of Destruction. You quickly cover your naked body with your blanket, making Nanook click his tongue with disapproval. Nanook grabs the blanket from your grasp, yanks it off your bare body, and throws it behind him without breaking eye contact. Heat rushes to your cheek when you realize the Aeon before you are gazing at your body with hunger and lust. As if Nanook wasn't big already, you could've sworn Nanook's dick grew in his boxers.
“It's not fair that I'm the only one naked, and you're still semi-dressed,” you mutter.
Nanook takes his eyes off your body before gesturing for you to sit up. You push yourself up and look at Nanook quizzically as he grabs your hand and places them on his hips. You blink at him as he looks down at you, waiting for you to do something. You clear your throat, pointing at his boxers and then at yourself.
“You want me to take your boxers off?” You squeak.
Nanook smirks. “What else would I want you to do? Hm?” Nanook coos, squeezing your cheeks.
You feel a lump forming in your throat. You gulp for the umpteenth time and nod, grabbing the band of Nanook's boxers and sliding his underwear down. Immediately, Nanook's cock slaps his abdomen, startling you. Nanook's boxers pool at his ankles, and he steps out of them, making his dick bob up and down with the slightest movement. You stare at Nanook's cock with wide eyes, mouth agape. Huge is an understatement at this point. This man is undoubtedly the Aeon of Destruction because you know Nanook's cock is going to be destroying your insides.
“That's not going to fit,” you state, looking at Nanook.
Nanook shrugs, hooking one arm underneath your knees and the other under your back before tossing you on the bed. Nanook crawls over you and slides his hands up your legs and to your thighs, pushing your legs apart to look at your glistening folds. You're too busy staring at Nanook's cock. The mushroom tip of his dick is a deep red, pre-cum beating at the silt of his cock, dripping down the base of his dick. You lick your lips.
Nanook runs his hands through his hair. “We'll make it fit,” Nanook states.
Nanook dips his fingers and runs them through your folds, making you shudder and gasp. Nanook inserts his index finger into your entrance, looking at your face for a certain reaction. You bite your lips and squeeze your eyes shut when his index finger continues to sink into your sopping-wet entrance. Nanook keeps your legs spread open with one hand as he continues to drill his index finger in and out of your squelching hole.
“This is so embarrassing,” you whine softly, becoming flustered the louder the squelching gets.
You let out a shaky gasp when Nanook inserts his middle finger into your entrance. The velvety walls of your entrance squeezed and pulsed around his thick, long fingers.
“Your body is reacting really well to what I'm doing,” Nanook murmurs, watching you gasp and arch your back when the tip of his fingers hit your cervix.
You grit your teeth and reach for Nanook's throbbing cock. Nanook rubs the bundle of nerves with the tip of his thumb, watching you let out a breathy moan and throw your head back with pleasure as you stroke his cock. Nanook groans, letting you stroke his stiff cock. The Aeon watches you stroke and squeeze his cock, rubbing your thumb over the bulbous tip of his cock and spreading the pre-cum around the tip of his dick.
While Nanook continues to finger you and stroke the engorged nub, you sit up to get a taste of his cock. Nanook looks at you quizzically when you sit up, unsure of what you're doing. You latch your lips around the mushroom tip of his cock, licking the pre-cum and briefly sucking on the head of his dick. Taken aback, Nanook moans and curls his fingers inside your entrance, making you jolt and squeeze around his fingers.
You begin bobbing your head on his cock, taking him deeper into your mouth. Nanook's fingers slip out of your entrance before tangling his fingers into your hair, tugging at the roots, moaning, and pushing your head further down on his cock. You nearly gag when the tip of his cock hits your throat. You wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, stroking the base of his cock while fondling and massaging his balls.
Nanook groans and starts thrusting into your mouth, fucking your face while tangling his fingers in your hair. His steady thrusts soon become fast, feeling his cock reach deeper into your throat. Nanook guides your head up and down his cock repeatedly until your nose is pressing up against his pubes. You dig your nails into his ass cheeks, tears brimming your eyes and rolling down your cheeks when his cock hits your throat.
You take deep breaths through your nostrils, trying not to gag. Nanook pulls his cock out from your mouth and pushes you on your back, and spreads your legs wide open for him to see your slick entrance. You breathe heavily, wiping the tears on the sides of your cheeks while Nanook rubs the engorged bundle of nerves with his index finger.
“Are you alright?” Nanook asks, looking at you as he continues to rub the nub between your legs.
You nod, sniffling. “Yeah, I'm alright,” you reply meekly.
Nanook hums before tossing both your legs over his shoulders with his face a few inches from your heat. You gulp, combing your fingers through Nanook's soft hair. Nanook pulls you forward and buries his face into your entrance, his tongue flat on your entrance and lapping up your juices. You throw your head back, and your back arches, thighs clamping over his head as the Aeon of Destruction eat you out like a starving man. You cover your mouth with your other hand, whimpering and panting against the palm of your hands.
Nanook swirls his tongue over your entrance, your bundle of nerves messily. The sounds of your muffle moans and Nanook slurping your juices fills your bedroom. Nanook penetrates your heat with his tongue, and the tip of his nose presses against your swollen nub. Nanook shakes his head, thrusting his tongue in and out of your heat, making you squeal.
“Oh, fuck, Nanook!” You gasp, feet planted on his shirtless back as the Aeon of Destruction continues to tongue-fuck you, bringing you close to your orgasm. “Nanook, fuck. I'm going to cum if you continue to do that!”
Nanook pulls away from your sopping-wet heat and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Nanook crawls up to you, his arms caging you against the mattress. Nanook stares down at you, a sense of pride swelling in his chest when he sees the effect he has on you. Your eyes are glazed over with lust, and your mouth is agape while your chest is heaving with deep breaths. Nanook taps your cheek lightly to grab your attention. You look at Nanook with hazy eyes, taking gulps of air.
Nanook snickers and leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. You taste yourself on Nanook's tongue— the tanginess pooling on your tongue as you and Nanook kiss. While distracted, Nanook grabs his throbbing cock and rubs the underside of his dick between your legs, coating his cock in your essence.
The bulbous tip of his cock lightly brushes against your aching nub, causing you to hiss softly and shudder underneath him. Nanook pulls from the kiss and looks down as he lines the mushroom tip of his cock in front of your entrance. You lick your lips, lift your head to see what he's doing. Nanook presses the hot tip of his dick against your entrance. You gulp and look at Nanook, who's staring at you intently.
Nanook kisses your forehead. “Are you ready?” Nanook murmurs against your forehead.
You nod in response. After getting your confirmation, Nanook takes a breath and pushes the tip into your heat. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel the mushroom tip breaching your entrance, squeezing your eyes shut.
A deep growl emits from Nanook's chest as he sinks his cock into you. Nanook rests on his forearms as you wrap your legs around his waist. Nanook latches his teeth onto your neck, inching his cock into you slowly. Your velvety walls squeeze and pulse around his throbbing cock, driving Nanook crazy. You pant, digging your nails into his back and clawing Nanook's back, leaving angry marks behind.
The tip of Nanook's cock hits something deep inside you, causing you to tense up and wail meekly. Nanook pants looking down to see he didn't sink all the way into your warm entrance. Nanook almost sunk the entirety of his cock into your sopping entrance, but the bulbous tip of his cock hit something. Your thighs tense around Nanook's waist, legs trembling from your walls stretching around Nanook's dick to accommodate his size.
“Nanook,” you whisper.
Nanook frowns, eyebrows furrowing. Nanook thrusts forward, trying to fit the entirety of his cock inside you, only for it not to work. Nanook leans down and preppers your face with gentle kisses. You pant against Nanook's neck, tears brimming your eyes each time the tip of his dick nudges your cervix. It hurts like a bitch, but it feels so fucking food. Nanook whispers a soft, ‘I'm sorry, Little one’ into your ears. You open one eye to look at Nanook, unsure of why he's apologizing.
Your eyelids fly open when Nanook grips your pillow tightly, ramming his cock all the way into your tight entrance. You wail and flail beneath Nanook, legs wrapping around his waist tightly as you whimper into his chest. Nanook groans and presses his hips hard against your hips, his nails digging into your pillow.
“A-Ah! N-Nanook!” You squeak, face contorting in pain.
Nanook pants, peeking down at you. You gaze at Nanook, tears in your eyes, bottom lips trembling. Nanook feels something stir within him when he sees you underneath him, naked, tearing up, stuffed full with his cock. Nanook's cock twitches inside you as he gulps. Nanook leans down and presses his lips against yours, wiping away the tear making its way down your cheek.
You involuntarily clench around Nanook's throbbing cock. Nanook hisses and pulls away from your lips, closing his eyes while trying to keep his sanity intact, or else he'll lose control. Nanook buries his hands in your hair, gently pulling your hair and tilting your head to the side to lightly nibble on your neck.
“Little one, you're so tight. Try to relax for me, sweetheart,” Nanook grunts into your neck.
Nanook unlatches his lips from your neck before clenching his jaws as he tries to hold back the urge to fuck you into your mattress until you scream. You pant, digging your nails deep into Nanook's back as you try to take your mind off the fact Nanook shoved the entirety of his huge cock deep into your entrance. Fuck. Your swollen bundle of nerves is throbbing, and you feel your entrance becoming wetter with each passing minute.
You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to relax. How does one relax when you have a huge cock stuffing your hole? Nanook reaches down and begins rubbing your aching bundle of nerves with his thumb. You shudder in his arms, letting Nanook tweak your throbbing nub. Nanook kisses the side of your head, feeling you relax underneath him. You swallow the lump in your throat, patting his arm.
“You can move now, Naook,” you whisper.
Nanook nods and slowly pulls his cock out from your sopping-wet entrance, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you. Nanook gazes at his cock— it's soaked in your essence. Nanook glances at your puffy entrance; it's glistening in your juices. Nanook swears he sees your entrance pulsating with want. Nanook thrusts into your heat without warning, making you grunt and tense underneath him, your hands shooting up to grip your pillow. Dear, Aeons. You feel so full. Nanook looks down at your stomach and freezes. You look at Nanook quizzically before following where his eyes are focusing on. You look at your stomach to see a bulge. With shaky hands, you poke the bump and jolt. Nanook places his hand over yours and presses down onto your stomach. You let out a needy moan as pleasure shoots up your body. Oh, fuck. Nanook is so big that his cock created a tummy bulge.
Nanook leans down, his hair tickling your cheeks. “What do you want me to do to you?” Nanook murmurs against your ears. “Say it, and I will do as you say.”
You shiver and clench around his cock, making the Aeon above you groan and squeeze your chest. What you need Nanook to do is to fuck you until you see stars dancing behind your eyelids. You want him to fuck you into your mattress until your walls mold into the shape of his dick. You whimper and close your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks as you think about having to beg for the Aeon of Destruction to destroy your insides and fill you to the brim with his cum.
“I want you to…” you trail off, whimpering at the slightest movement. “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk and…”
Nanook's eyes widen slightly before laughing breathlessly. “Oh? There's more?” Nanook jokes, rubbing the tip of his nose against your cheek, rutting his hips against yours.
You cover your face and lightly hit his shoulder. “Nanook! Stop teasing me!” You whine.
“Alright, alright, I'm going to stop teasing you,” Nanook sighs, kissing your forehead. “Now, continue where you left off.”
You try to form coherent sentences, but the more Nanook ruts against you, the more your mind blanks out. You wrap your legs tightly around Nanook's waist, attempting to stop him from continuing, only for you to press Nanook hard against you. Nanook snickers and kisses your jaws, waiting for you to tell him what you want him to do.
“Gosh, just please fuck me until I see stars. I don't think I can wait any longer,” you whisper.
Nanook's chest rumbles with laughter, and he leans down. “If you insist,” Nanook says, kissing the corner of your lips.
Nanook adjusts his position above you, grabs your legs, and unwraps them around his waist. You look at Nanook, confused. Nanook throws your legs over his shoulders and begins plunging his cock in and out of you repeatedly. You yelp and grab his biceps, squeezing your eyes shut as the Aeon pistons his cock into your sopping entrance. You feel your juices pool beneath your bed, spreading to the back of your thighs and onto Nanook's pubes.
Your toes curl with pleasure, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as Nanook rams the tip of his cock against your cervix until you can't hold in your moans any longer. You let out a string of groans and curses, feeling a tight knot beginning to form in your lower abdomen. You clench your jaws when your legs start to feel tingly and numb. You close your eyes and rock your hips against Nanook's hips, his pubic bone pressing and rubbing against your swollen nub.
You shiver, and your velvety walls squeeze around the Aeon's dick. “Oh, fuck,” you whisper, clawing Nanook's back.
Nanook tangles his hands into your hair and pulls your hair back before biting down on your neck hard. You cry out in pain and clench around Nanook's cock as he continues to ram his dick in and out of your squelching entrance vigorously. You can see stars dancing behind your vision with each thrust. You tilt your head back against your pillow as tears trail down your cheeks. You don't know how much longer you can handle being fucked by Nanook. Nanook removes your legs from his shoulders, keeping your legs spread open as he pistons his cock deep into your quivering entrance. Nanook pulls his dick out, leaving only the tip inside before slamming back into your heat. Your back arches, and you choke out a moan as the Aeon repeats his actions. Nanook's thrusts soon become sloppy the longer he continues to ram the bulbous tip of his cock in and out of your dripping entrance. You claw your bedsheets, the knot in your lower abdomen becoming incredibly tight.
“Fuck, Nanook. I'm going to cum,” you whimper.
Your velvety walls squeeze around Nanook's cock tightly. Nanook groans and collapses on top of you as you cum around his cock. Nanook takes a deep breath before proceeding to plunge his thick, long cock in and out of your squelching heat. Nanook reaches for your engorged nub and begins pinching, squeezing, and rolling it between his thumb and index finger. Your eyes widen, and you squeal loudly, squirming beneath Nanook.
“It's too much, Nanook! It's too much!” You sob.
Nanook ignores your cries and continues to stimulate your engorged bundle of nerves while plunging his cock into you as deeply as he can get it. Nanook groans, shooting hot ropes of cum deep inside your entrance as the walls of your hole convulse around his dick. Liquid jets out your entrance, wetting Nanook's lower abdomen and pubes. Nanook gazes at you with wide eyes while you continue to tremble due to overstimulation.
Nanook releases your swollen nub and slowly pulls his cock from your entrance. Nanook groans and lays beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to his chest. You shudder and close your eyes while your legs continue to tremble. Nanook tucks your hair behind your ears, nibbling on your earlobe as he pulls the blanket over your naked bodies.
“Did you see the stars?” Nanook teases.
You look at Nanook with bleary eyes. “I think I saw something else other than stars,” you whisper.
You snuggle up against Nanook, closing your eyes. Nanook runs his fingers through your hair while you feel yourself start to drift off to sleep. Right when you're about to fall asleep, a knock is heard at the door of your bedroom. Your eyelids fly open, and you hold the blanket to your chest. You look at Nanook like a deer caught in headlights while the Aeon of Destruction yawns and peeks at the door, uninterested.
“Who is it?” You call out, clearing your throat.
“Are you two done with fucking each other's brains out? You've been keeping us waiting for a while,” Sampo whines from behind the door.
You sit up and look at Nanook in horror while the Aeon presses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from bursting out laughing. You lightly smack Nanook's shoulders, cheeks flaming hot as you try not to freak out. Us?! What does Sampo mean by ‘us’!? Does this mean that other people heard you and Nanook fuck?!
You toss the blanket over your head. “Who's at the door with you, Sampo? And how long have you guys been standing there?” You ask.
“Uh... Blade, General Jing Yuan, Luocha, Luka, and Gepard are also here with me. Mr. Yang, Caelus, and Dan Heng told us you were getting ready, but he didn't tell us that you and the Aeon of Destruction were getting freaky with each other,” Sampo says nonchalantly.
Luka laughs from behind the door. “I can see why he's called the Aeon of Destruction now,” Luka jokes.
You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into Nanook's bare chest. Can someone please end your misery?
"Do you guys think we'll get our turns next?" Sampo whispers.
Nanook raises his eyebrows at Sampo’s question. You peek your head out from underneath the blanket, hoping it won’t be very awkward after you and Nanook take a shower and show up at the Parlor Car. More importantly, you really hope the others don’t tell Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Caelus about what they heard.
Note: Not going to lie, I liked the first half of this fic, and toward the end is where I started feeling iffy about the smut. I don't know about you guys, but I think I have created a new headcanon lore of Nanook's title of being the Aeon of Destruction. Nanook is the Aeon of Destroying Insides, that's for sure. I'm okay with this smut— I think the PDA is cute, and the teasing. But overall, I think it's a meh smut (or maybe just horribly written, but whatever). Nanook got the majority of the vote— about over 200 votes. [This part is copied and pasted from the previous fanfic regarding the Discord server] For those who want to join the Discord server but weren't able to, here is the new temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]! Please make sure to read the server rules— you can lurk, chat and hang out on the server if you'd like! If you don't vibe with the server, you can leave whenever you want ^^ To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!
Taglist for the HSR one-shot series: @ashwasherelol, @mompt2, @elegantnightblaze, @lunavixia, @jadedist, @reversearrowhead, @pinksaiyans, @n8mareee, @aurelia-xyt, @lilliansstuff, @starrry-angel, @kaoyamamegami, @kodzuvk, @a-cosmicdawn, @theblades, @wntrsblvd, @raaawwwr, @immahuman, @irisxiel, @siaracarroll, @crazydreamcat, @sen-nes, @sagekun, @orichalcumthief, @dyingsweetmackerel, @rosiesareblue, @ichikanu, @asoulsreverie, @angelmican, @misdollface, @4-34-am, @sxftiebee, @hispasian-otaku (Accounts that I was unable to tag are not tagged in this fic. Those who do not want to be tagged in a specific fic are not tagged. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)
Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^
#Honkai Star Rail x reader#Honkai Star Rail imagine#Honkai Star rail fanfiction#Honkai Star Rail fanfic#HSR x reader#HSR imagine#HSR fanfiction#HSR fanfic#Dan Heng x reader#Gepard Landau x reader#Sampo Koski x reader#Welt Yang x reader#Blade x reader#Jing Yuan x reader#Luocha x reader#Caelus x reader#Nanook x reader#Luka x reader#genshinluvr#Nanook x reader smut#Nanook smut
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sweet dreams | ksj
Seokjin loves when you paint your nails pink.
○ Pairing: Dom!Seokjin x Sub!Reader
○ Rating: Explicit/18+
○ Genre: Established relationship, smut
○ 8 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Master/Dom)
○ Word Count: 1,182
○ Warnings: Free use kink, consensual somnophilia (kinks negotiated "off screen"), vaginal fingering, spit, unprotected vaginal sex, cunnilingus, cum eating, light bdsm themes, no pronouns or gendered language are used for the MC aside from pussy and tits
○ Notes: I think I'm going insane actually 😅 Please read the warnings and if you don't know what somnophilia is, please maybe do a little research before you read this, just in case it might be triggering to you. Also I didn't edit this and I'm too embarrassed by the filth to even proofread it so jhsdfkjs enter at your own risk, besties. Proceed with caution 😭
○ Post Date: February 10, 2024
○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost
○ What was Jai listening to? Do Me Right - GEMINI
For the past few months, work has been kicking Seokjin’s ass. As his company barrels toward a major project deadline, he’s found very little time to spend with you. It’s unfortunate because you are accustomed to having fun together, whether going on dates or having a casual night in.
You’ve been bitter about it, and Seokjin can’t blame you. His baby deserves better, to be cared for and spoiled, and deserves more attention than he has given you.
Coming home late, Seokjin sighs when he slips into the apartment and finds all the lights off. It’s just past midnight, long since you fell asleep. You used to stay up for him, but Seokjin begged you not to. It wasn’t fair for you to deny yourself sleep because of his job.
After taking off his shoes and removing his suit jacket and tie, Seokjin quietly makes his way down the hall to the bedroom you share.
You’re fast asleep in bed, sprawled out on your stomach with one knee hiked up, wearing nothing but a cropped tank top and flimsy panties, the kind with lace trim and a tiny bow because your ass is a present, or whatever that rap verse is that you’re always quoting.
Seokjin thinks you’re cute in anything.
He especially thinks you’re cute in pink – pink panties, pink tank tops, the remnants of pink eyeshadow because you forgot to wash your face before you fell asleep, and, his favorite, pink nail polish.
The little glass bottle sits on the nightstand beside your bed. You applied the polish shortly before bed, and Seokjin can smell the lingering chemical aroma in the air.
It started as a shy confession and an even more shy request – you admitting to Seokjin that you always wanted to try out a particular fantasy but had never found a partner you trusted with this level of kink exploration. Seokjin, though, you trust with your life. He has done his best to show you that he can and will listen to you, respect you, and love you.
So when you asked Seokjin to have his way with you whenever you wear your favorite pink nail polish, he took his role as your trusted caretaker very seriously.
Seokjin pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor along with his jeans. Keeping his briefs on, he kneels on the bed, one knee on either side of your leg that’s straightened out. He uses his knee to push your leg that’s bent, hiking it up to open your thighs even further. He’s slow as he does it, careful not to wake you up.
He runs his palms over your asscheeks, slipping his fingers beneath your underwear and squeezing just light enough to make them jiggle. Pulling your underwear to the side, he exposes your pussy, open wide for him from how he has pushed your leg up.
Leaning forward, Seokjin spits onto your pussy. He uses his thumb to push his spit through your folds, rubbing it over your clit and then dragging it down to your entrance to dib his thumb inside.
You let out a small whimper, and Seokjin pauses his movements. Only his heavy breathing and your little sounds echo in the room, but your eyes remain closed, and your breathing is slow.
Relaxing with the knowledge that you’re still asleep, Seokjin starts touching you again. He spends time circling your clit, alternating between pressing hard on the sensitive skin and maintaining light touches that serve more to spread your arousal around. His mouth waters from just playing with your clit, and he lets more spit soak your pussy. Seokjin always likes it wet and messy, especially when you’re so pliant while sleeping.
Your body reacts on its own, naturally shifting into his touch when he slides two fingers into your entrance. He fucks you slowly, easing his fingers in and out carefully so he doesn’t disturb you. Your ass jiggles slightly each time his fingers rock into you. Sometimes, he pushes deep in and stays there, fluttering and massaging your wet walls.
With his other hand, Seokjin reaches over to push up your shirt. Since it’s a crop top, it’s already barely covering your tits, making it easier for him to push it up. Licking his fingers, he tweaks your exposed nipple, swirling and pinching it until it grows hard.
Seokjin bites his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning as he eases his fingers out of you, smearing your arousal on the back of your thigh. You're so wet, and his cock is aching, hard, and dripping precum, a dark spot staining the front of his briefs.
"So beautiful..." Seokjin whispers to himself as he spreads your lips and spits directly into your pussy again. Arousal and spit dribbles down your lips and soaks the bed sheets.
Unable to take it, Seokjin takes his cock out and rubs the tip through your folds. When the ridge of his head catches against your clit, you let out a quiet whimper, your body aware of the pleasure even if your mind is still oblivious.
The little breathy sounds you make only spur Seokjin on more. He's impatient as he sinks his cock into you, your walls slippery and hot as you suck him in. He presses his hands into the bed on either side of your waist and thrusts deep and slow, careful not to wake you as he fucks into you.
Seokjin loves how easy it is to manipulate your body while you're sleeping, especially knowing that you like being a little fucktoy for him. You like it when he uses your body like the perfect cocksleeve, pleasuring him even when you're asleep.
You moan in your sleep, and Seokjin wonders if you're dreaming about him fucking you. You came in the past, writhing in your sleep and moaning so loudly that you woke yourself up. This time, you must be genuinely exhausted because your eyes barely flutter as Seokjin chases his pleasure.
It doesn't take long for him to cum. He does so with quiet grunts, pulling back just in time to watch his cum spurt over your lips, some of the hot liquid dripping back into your stretched-out entrance.
Not even bothering to tuck his cock back in his briefs, he slides down to bury his face in your pussy, lapping at the cum to clean you up. It's the final push you need to finally orgasm, your hips bucking and your body shaking as a moan rips through your throat.
"Jin," you gasp, reaching down to dig your fingers in his hair. You don't bother getting up; just let your body slump into the bed as your orgasm hurdles through you like electricity, shocking your system.
"Sorry, I woke you up," Seokjin murmurs against your pussy. He tries to pull away, but you push his head back down.
"Please," you whisper, sleepy eyes still closed. "More, please."
Humming in satisfaction, Seokjin gives you what you want. He's weak like that; even when you're pliant, he'll always be weak for you.
Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.
All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.
@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae @yoonminkookk
#seokjin x reader#bts x reader#bts fanfic#seokjin fanfic#bts smut#seokjin smut#100 drabble challenge#sweet dreams#jai writes#gimmethatagustd
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I'm going to start this post off by saying that I write fic, and I know the pain of putting something out there and not getting a response. It sucks and it hurts and it puts a dent in my self-confidence. If I have the choice between posting a work on AO3 and getting only comments or posting a work on AO3 and getting only kudos, I'll probably choose comments let's say 8 times out of 10.
But with that in mind, posts that attempt to shame or guilt readers into commenting don't actually work.
Negative reinforcement (in the form of shame, guilt, or other worse emotions) doesn't make anyone want to do the thing. It just makes them want to avoid the guilt, etc. Rather than encouraging someone to talk to you about your writing, you're making that person want to avoid you so that they don't have to feel bad. That's just human nature.
I've said before that I think a lot of writers are looking for community rather than comments, and I still think that's true. The reason I love both writing and receiving comments is because it makes me feel like I've made a connection with someone. I may never know their real name or what they look like or where they live or anything else but what fandom we have in common, but we've reached out to each other in this text-based medium and we've shared words that made each other feel something.
I know that these posts are written out of frustration or loneliness or needing support or a hundred other reasons I could list off the top of my head. But when I read "you should be grateful for the things I give you and show me proper appreciation" it just reminds me of my parents telling me to clean my room or to follow the rules while I live under their roof.
It's so much more vulnerable to admit, "I don't know if this story is any good and I really wish someone would reassure me right now."
It's much harder to say, "I feel so alone in this fandom, and I want to make friends with someone."
It's difficult to admit, "I worked so hard on this for so long and I'm so tired, but if someone out there likes it then all of that effort will be worthwhile - and if no one says anything, then I'll feel like my effort was wasted."
I'm not trying to shame the people who made those posts, and if that's how this comes across then I'm sorry. I'm just trying to explain why I think those posts will harm more than they help.
I also hope that any readers who see this post will understand that those writers are just people who are feeling a lot of different ways, and they're venting their frustrations. I've been there. I've reblogged those posts before when I was feeling frustrated like that too.
If you're able to comment, those comments are appreciated. If you're not able to comment (for whatever reason), that's okay too. ❤️
#writing fic isn't a job and comments aren't a salary#and if it starts to feel that way then you might be experiencing burnout#and it could be time for a rest - or to think about one anyway#I obviously don't know your situation#but that's what it was for me
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I love all your posts. In your dazai nsfw head canons, there was the thing with chuuya and I was wondering if you could write a fic on that? It's oki if not!! :)
tag-team
Inspired by letters I and W from my Dazai NSFW alphabet in which Dazai wants to fuck his girlfriend in Chuuya's office, and Chuuya gets to join in.
5.1k, jealous!dazai, afab!reader, cumming inside, cunnilingus, blowjob, fingering, soukoku bickering while fucking, etc. not soukoku but they do sexually interact, etc. not proofread bc i'm tired [click to read on ao3]
You urge Dazai to lock the door behind you, but he chuckles and shakes his head. “No baby,” he mumbles, sliding his hands past your hips and down to grab two handfuls of your ass. “He'll know something's up if the door's locked. If Chuuya catches us, we should be riiiight in the middle of things so he can't stop us.”
“Remind me why I let you talk me into this again?” you ask as he leans forward, chasing your lips even as you lean back and wait for an answer.
“Because fuck Chuuya. If I want to fuck my girl in his office, I will.”
“That's a terrible reason,” you gasp as Dazai slides one hand up your body and into the hair at the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. His open mouth meets yours, tongues immediately gliding together with the same force as your lips.
“But we're here, aren't we?” he asks after pulling back just for a second. “And I want you so bad.”
You whimper and let him reel you in once again. Your nerves will get the best of you if you have time to take in your surroundings; as it is your nose can't stop sniffing out the unfamiliar smells of luxuriois leather and some kind of smoke. If Dazai keeps leading you so confidently you'll be able to let go of yourself entirely and go along with this absolute ridiculous plan of his.
He kisses you faster and with more urgency than he does at home, making both of you breathless as you gasp into each other's mouths and lap at each other's tongues.
His large hands glide over your body, up and down your back, hiking your top up and trying to dip into your pants. You follow his lead, reaching for the buttons on his vest and his shirt. He keeps kissing you through both of you martially undressing, his tops hitting the floor, yours following shortly after.
When he gets your bra off he makes you sit on Chuuya’s desk, and he leans down to suck on your tit. You lean back, tossing your hair over your shoulder, closing your eyes so you can focus on the feeling of Dazai's tongue circling your nipple as it perks and hardens at his touch. You make small noises, still shy in an unfamiliar place, but Dazai keeps working over you, suckling, kneading, teasing his teeth over your skin, until you're softly moaning his name and laying back, making him bend at the waist and lean forward to follow you down onto Chuuya's desk, ignoring whatever papers you land on.
Dazai kisses lower eventually, and his deft fingers unbutton your jeans and start sneaking under the fabric.
“You're so pretty spread out for me on stupid Chuuya’s desk,” he says cupping your dampening panties in his palm. “I'm gonna make you feel so good the whole Mafia hears you screaming.”
Your eyes widen in panic briefly and you stutter out a no, but Dazai laughs softly and kisses right above where your panties cover.
“You're safe, baby, I promise. Not a single person here would be stupid enough to hurt a hair on your head.” He drags your jeans down your legs finally, and you kick a little as he pulls them over your feet. He grabs one ankle, kisses the inside of it, then holds your leg up and kisses slowly down, closer and closer to your crotch.
“These walls are soundproof anyways,” he says once he's near your inner thigh. “No one will hear you scream.”
You giggle softly and push his forehead away from you.
“Don't be creepy, weirdo.”
He smiles and lays his cheek against your thigh, his face so close to your clothed cunt. You watch him, desperate for his next move.
“There's my sweet girl. You really don't need to be worried, I promise.” You jump slightly when his finger presses just above your clit and pushes in as he drags it down, making your panties slightly stick between your folds. “I'd never put you in danger.” His voice lowers as his finger goes up again, still pushing in, now really emphasizing your cleavage. “You know that, right?”
You nod, giving a quiet “mhm.”
“Speak up,” he says, now tracing his fingers around the outside of your panties.
“I know,” you say, still keeping your eyes locked on his. “You'd never put me in danger.”
“Good. And do you know why?” His finger slips under by just a single knuckle, and he lifts your panties high, making the crotch pull taut and squish between your labia. You whine and try to push down to get some friction on your clit but it's barely there, he's holding your panties at just the wrong angle.
“Tell me.”
“Because you love me?” You guess, and he smiles widely.
“Exactly!” he says in his playful, excited voice. Then he rolls his head toward your crotch and licks a fat, wet stripe up one half of your exposed cunt. You make a startled little moan and he chuckles before licking the other side too.
“Now, do you want my tongue or my fingers?” he asks so close that you can feel his breath tickling your wet skin.
“Both,” you answer immediately.
“Both?” He sits up and tsks, slowly shaking his head. He stands upright and you whine, reaching for him, saying soft no’s.
“Greedy girl.” He looks down and spreads your pussy with his fingers, then readjusts your panties so they're right against your clit. “You must be so horny you could die. Being so greedy like that… Why don't you get yourself off then, baby? Show me how you play with yourself with no hands.”
He tugs your panties up slightly a couple of times, giving little pricks of pleasure to your clit. You get the hint and move your hips up slowly, getting another prick of sensation. You readjust, getting one foot up on the desk beside you so you have leverage to move. Then you start a slow rhythm, bucking upward against your panties so they grind on your clit and work you up.
“That's it, baby,” Dazai coos lowly, petting your thigh with his free hand. After a while when your speed increases and you start whining his name, he unbuckles his belt, works open his button and fly, and pulls his dick out, giving it strokes that match the time of your grinding.
“Fuck, this is hot,” he sighs. “I could watch you get yourself off all day.”
“But I want you,” you whine. You start kneading and pawing at your boobs as well, staring right up at Dazai. “Fuck me,” you beg softly.
Dazai bites his lip but says nothing, watching you with his greedy, hungry eyes.
“Please,” you breathily beg, searching for more pressure that just doesn’t exist in your current predicament. “Please, Dazai, please. Please.”
“God, it’s so hot when you beg,” he finally says, letting go of his dick. He grabs your panties with both hands and pulls them down your legs before haphazardly throwing them over his shoulder to land somewhere else.
“I want you so bad, Dazai. Please. Please.”
“Shhh,” he coos softly, leaning down over you. His lips brush yours and he intersperses tiny kisses with tiny shushes as his fingers collect your wetness. You desperately chase his lips, but he keeps pulling away. He even has the audacity to chuckle in your face.
“Don’t worry, needy girl.” He hisses softly, and you vaguely get the impression that his arm is moving-- he must be stroking himself with your wetness. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
You nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He asks if you’re ready, and you keep nodding and nodding and finally he slips the tip inside and you moan into his face.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans, sinking further and further into you. “Love this pussy. It’s so fucking good to me.”
“I love you,” you whine and he chuckles again as he bottoms out.
“I love you,” he mutters against your lips and kisses you properly, not teasing or withholding anymore.
And that’s when the door opens.
“What the fuck?! Dazai!” Chuuya yells, scrambling for what to say next. Dazai sighs dramatically, letting the noise turn into a groan. He stands up without pulling out of you and turns his upper body toward Chuuya.
“What do you want?” he snaps. “I’m kind of busy here.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” There’s a scuffle and some noise from the hallway, but to your surprise Chuuya calmly calls over his shoulder “Don’t worry about it-- I’ve got it under control,” and then closes and locks the door behind him. He takes his hat off and hangs it on the back of the door then turns back to you two.
“I thought you were fucking joking, you dumbass.”
“I never joke about my lady’s pleasure,” Dazai says, and you narrow your eyes at him.
“What is he talking about?” Your whole body is flushed with embarrassment and fear and now confusion. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, afraid of being yelled at or in trouble with the fucking Port Mafia, but Dazai is acting so nonchalant, and all Chuuya does is tsk.
“You didn’t even tell her? How the fuck did you get her here if you didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what? Dazai?”
Dazai groans and turns back fully to you, grinding against you, making you gasp. “I told you that you weren’t in any danger. Chuuya knew we were coming.”
“I didn’t know. You said it like a fucking joke.”
“Dazai, tell me what--”
“I asked Chuuya if he’d let us fuck in his office if he got to join in if he caught us, and he said yes.”
“I thought you were joking!”
“Join in…?”
Dazai’s eyes lock on yours but he doesn’t say anything. Your eyes are softer than he expected and now he’s starting to realize maybe he didn’t make the right call here. Now he’ll actually have to put his money where his mouth is and let his ex-partner fuck his girlfriend.
Dazai easily regains his composure and turns to look at Chuuya again.
“Well?” he asks. “Why are you still standing there? You caught us, so come here.”
Chuuya hesitates.
“She okay with this?” he asks. “Man, I don’t even know her name.”
“That’s because you haven’t introduced yourself yet, slug. Now come here.”
“Don’t boss me around,” he grumbles as he crosses the room. Finally he’s standing over you and his eyes lock purely on yours, not straying in the slightest to any of your exposed skin.
“Sorry we weren’t properly introduced because your boyfriend’s a fucking moron. I’m Nakahara Chuuya. Are you okay with this?”
“Hi, Chuuya,” you say softly. Your face is so warm as you blush; his formality makes the situation really sink in--you’re spread out naked with your boyfriend balls deep, and Chuuya’s hardly acknowledging it. “He is kind of dumb, but I like him anyway--”
“--Heeey--”
“I’m [Y/N], and yeah, you can join us. I mean, really it’s the least we could do…”
A smirk slowly overcomes Chuuya’s face.
“Oh, yeah? Gonna pay me back for the time it’s gonna take to clean my office by letting me use your pretty little body?”
Dazai grinds against you again, and you groan softly, biting your lip.
“Mhm,” you hum, nodding at Chuuya. “We’ll make it worth your time.” You reach out for his hand, and he allows you to take it. You guide it to your tit, and he chuckles.
“Right into it, huh?” he asks, massaging it gently. Dazai finally pulls partially out of you and thrusts back in, making you gasp again. Chuuya glances down at where your cunt sucks your boyfriend’s cock in, and he clicks his tongue.
“Damn, that’s kinda hot.” He pinches your nipple between his fingers, rolling it and squeezing, drawing extra whines from you.
“Isn’t she?” Dazai asks rhetorically, rubbing one of his hands across your belly and up your side. He pulls you by your hips until your ass is partially hanging off the desk. You wrap your legs around his hips and he starts his usual starting pace, fucking into you nice and deep because of the angle he has you at.
“Chuuya,” you say softly, but the way Dazai is fucking you makes everything you say sound like a breathy moan. Both of them turn slightly red from hearing you more or less moan to Chuuya. “Chuuya, take your pants off,” you add, trying to make it clear that you were trying to say this from the beginning. Dazai’s thrusts speed up and hit harder, and he starts grunting from the effort.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan, grabbing the edge of the desk for dear life. “Oh, Dazai, fuck!”
You hear the clinking of metal and turn your head to see Chuuya doing as you asked. He drops his pants, kicking them to the side after kicking his shoes off too. He unbuttons his vest and his shirt and strips until he’s only in his underwear and socks. You watch as he palms himself through his underwear, watching from a few feet away as Dazai fucks you relentlessly. Your tits jiggle, your breath shakes, your legs are trembling, and Dazai is huffing and moaning and panting above you. His head is down, his long hair hanging over his face as he watches where your cunt meets his cock--he told you once it’s one of his favorite sights, and when he gets so drunk on it like today, you believe it.
“Let me touch you,” you stumble out to Chuuya, reaching out to him again. He shuffles closer until your hand can paw at his crotch, feeling for the shape of him through cloth. He locks his hands behind his head and stands with his hips toward you, watching as you stroke him and feel him up as best you can.
“Take it off,” you huff, grabbing the elastic of his waistband. “I wanna see.”
Meanwhile, Dazai’s pace doesn’t let up. One of his hands gropes at your breasts, squeezing and almost using it as leverage to balance himself as he fucks you.
“Go on then,” Chuuya says without moving. You struggle to reach both arms over to him, but you manage to squirm away from Dazai just enough-- which he does not like-- to get your hands on Chuuya’s underwear. You pull it down a few inches and push it as much as you can until finally they drop.
His cock is a nice size-- it’s thick and when you wrap your hand around it, an inch or two and the tip are still sticking out. His pubes are thick but cleanly trimmed and with his toned, muscular body you have to admit you’re finding him really, extremely hot.
“Your hands are much softer than mine,” he grunts as you jerk him off. “Feels good.”
“She’s got an amazing mouth,” Dazai pants, finally lifting his head to watch you interact with Chuuya, though his pace never ceases. “Put on a condom and let her show you what she can do.”
“You use condoms?” Chuuya asks, glancing down at Dazai’s dick.
“No, but you will if you’re gonna put your dick anywhere near her,” he mumbles. “I don’t even like her hand on you bare.” He grimaces. “You still keep some in your desk, don’t you?”
“Old habits die hard,” Chuuya mumbles, gently touching your hand to make you let go of him. As he rounds his desk to rifle through his drawers, Dazai leans down and licks one nipple, then the other.
“I’m gonna cum in you,” he mumbles against your skin. “You’re mine. Don’t you forget that.”
“Yeah,” you moan as you agree. His fingers find his way down to your pussy, and you feel one partially slip in beside his cock, working a louder moan from you as it stretches you nicely. He pulls it out, presses in, gently stretching and filling you to the brim.
There’s a thud next to your head, and you turn to see Chuuya kneeling on the desk beside you, rolling a condom over his shaft. “Will you open that pretty mouth for me?”
You don’t even answer, you just whine and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.
“She loves it,” Dazai says, and it comes out awfully near to a moan. “Love sucking cock, don’t you, [Y/N]?”
“Mhm,” you hum around Chuuya’s tip as he settles it on your tongue. You close your mouth around him and let him decide the pace. He goes relatively easy on you given how Dazai is still jackhammering away at your cunt, grunting and huffing though he’s far less talkative than normal.
“Yeah, look at you,” Dazai sighs blissfully. “Bet you like having two cocks, huh? Greedy girl.” His eyes are on your mouth, watching Chuuya tamely slide in and out of your mouth. He privately seethes at the way your shiny eyes stare up at Chuuya, but he’s determined to get your attention back by making you cum.
His finger, now sufficiently wet from fingering you while fucking you, slides up from your pussy to your clit. He rubs fast, wide circles over your clit. He relishes in the way your eyes widen and flicker over to him. You must have sucked in a breath and sucked harder on Chuuya, because he moans too and his hips stutter forward.
Dazai knows that you’re about to cum based on your frequent moans. He wishes he could hear them more clearly, but he also is starting to find a sick sort of pleasure in the muffled sound you make combined with the typical noises of having a cock in your mouth. Chuuya’s not too bad looking, either.
Finally it happens. You’re loud, even muffled as you are. You moan and whine, your breathing is heavy and struggles to escape through your nose, but Chuuya doesn’t retract himself to make it any easier on you. Your legs tremble, and Dazai feels proud because of it. The way your walls clench and flutter as your orgasm tears through you milks Dazai’s dick so good.
“Fuck, mm, fuck!” Dazai whimpers and drops his head, once again watching his favorite sight. He’s been fucking you so deeply, and you’ve been so exceptionally wet today, that there’s a sticky, white ring around his shaft and it only gets messier as he cums inside of you. He shoots thick ropes of white deep inside, continuing to thrust increasingly lazily as he empties his load.
“Stop, stop,” Dazai says softly, touching Chuuya’s hips. Chuuya gives him a look but nods and backs up, finally freeing your mouth. Dazai slips out of you while leaning down to kiss you. You lick and pant into each other’s mouths, and when Dazai pulls away he slides two messy, cum-covered fingers onto your tongue.
“Taste us.”
You clean his fingers off with your mouth and try to sit up once he’s pulled his hand away and stood up himself.
Maybe it’s because of how calm and blissed out Dazai is because of his orgasm, but he lolls his head to the side and smiles lazily at Chuuya. “She’s the wettest she’s ever been,” he sighs happily. “You better get your dick wet before I change my mind. Take that stupid thing off,” he says, waving his hand at Chuuya’s condom-covered dick.
“You sure?” Chuuya asks, raising an eyebrow. He holds himself by the base, languidly stroking when his cock gives an interested twitch at what Dazai offers. Meanwhile, Dazai is helping you to your feet and peppering kisses across your face.
“Yes,” Dazai says, rolling his eyes at Chuuya, then he turns back to you. “Why don’t you take it off him, baby?”
You nod slightly and turn to Chuuya, holding your hands out toward him. He crawls to the edge of the desk beside you, observing the way your legs tremble after the pounding Dazai just gave you. You wrap your hands around him and roll the condom off, handing it to Dazai after which makes him laugh.
“Throw it away,” you mumble, then predicting what he’ll do, you quickly add on “in the trash not on the floor.”
“Yes, darling,” he coos, though it’s unmistakable how disgusted he is to be holding Chuuya’s used condom. He barely grips it with two fingers, holding it away from himself. “In the meantime, I think Chuuya should lay on the floor-- you’ll both like my idea, so just do it.”
You and Chuuya share a look as Dazai goes behind Chuuya’s desk to find a trash can, but Chuuya shrugs and gets down on the floor on his back, one arm behind his head, the other lazily stroking his cock as he looks up at you. His eyes trail down your body, from the hickeys and lovebites all over your neck and chest to your red, sore nipples all the way down to your visibly sticky wet cunt which has been slowly dribbling Dazai’s cum down your thigh.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Chuuya hisses, fisting his cock harder when he notices the cum trail.
“Isn’t she?” Dazai asks, coming back to you. He gives you a few sweet kisses, keeping his eyes cracked open to make sure Chuuya is watching. Then he takes your hands and guides you the few steps over to his former partner on the floor.
“Lay down on top of him, your back on his chest.”
“But I’m gonna--”
“You’re not gonna squish him, he’ll be fine.” Dazai holds your hands as you kneel down, straddling Chuuya’s hips backwards.
“But if you touch him you’ll nullify--”
“He’s tougher than he looks, and he already looks pretty tough-- that’s the only compliment you’re getting from me, Slug.”
Chuuya’s hands grab your waist and help you sit on his hips and then lay back so you’re against his chest.
“Not even using my ability and you’re fine, babe. Don’t worry about your weight, I don’t care.”
“‘Babe,’” Dazai quotes with an edge of bitterness in his voice. You knew he’d get a little jealous letting his former partner in the mix, but it was his idea and you’re intent on seeing it through now. You’ll never tell Dazai, but you do find Chuuya incredibly attractive and once you saw his dick today you knew you weren’t gonna be satisfied until you got your chance to cum on it.
“Babe,” Chuuya says again, helping you readjust until your head is at his shoulder and you’d be able to look at each other or even kiss if you wanted-- not that Dazai would let you.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Sluggy dearest,” Dazai says, swiping some of his cum off of your thigh and spreading it over Chuuya’s tip. “You’ll never see her again after today, so don’t go falling in love with my girl or I really will have to kill you.”
“Like you could ever do that,” Chuuya snaps back. “I’d beat you to a pulp, even without gravity manipulation.”
“Bold talk for a man with my cum on his dick,” Dazai says in an overly playful tone with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Dude, what?! You’re a freak, why did you do that?!”
“It’s gonna get on you anyway, dumbass,” Dazai says. He slides two fingers into you easily, your pussy still being open and wet and so needy for more. He collects some of his cum and your arousal, completely mixed together and unable to discern one from the other. You give a little whine at his fingers in you, and especially at them leaving you, and then Chuuya’s breath hitches and even though you can’t see, you’re pretty sure Dazai is rubbing your slick over his dick.
“Fuck,” Chuuya sighs, and you look over at his face. At first it seems like his eyes are closed, but then you realize he’s just looking at Dazai, and you look down and see Dazai smirking and giving absolute bedroom eyes at Chuuya. Your pussy clenches around nothing, another surge of arousal making you squirm.
Chuuya’s hands grip your hips, and Dazai’s eyes shift to you and he chuckles.
“What is it, baby? Use your words.”
“You’re so hot… both of you.”
“Oh, thank you,” Chuuya purrs in your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin.
“You think so?” Dazai asks, and you feel something tap against your pussy. You look down and manage to catch that Dazai’s hand is still around Chuuya’s cock, moving it now, making it touch you.
“Yeah,” you moan softly, biting your lip.
“You want Chuuya to fuck you?”
“Mhm…” you hum, nodding. Chuuya chuckles softly and lets one hand roam upward over your skin until he’s palming and kneading your breast.
“He'll do a good job, too. Won't you Chuuya?” Dazai asks, rubbing Chuuya's dick between the folds of your cunt.
“I'm gonna fuck you so good.” He sighs at the stimulation, his hips bucking up slightly. “Better than that shitty mackerel does, I bet.”
“No chance in hell,” Dazai sneers.
“Let me show her. I'll prove it.” Chuuya bucks his hips up again, trying to get his dick to slip inside.
“No chance--”
“--Please,” you moan, cutting Dazai off. His face changes from glaring to surprise.
“Oh? You want to find out if he’s better than me?” he asks bitterly, smacking Chuuya’s dick against your pussy.
“No, I want him to fuck me,” you whine.
“That’s not what it sounded like to me.” Dazai frowns, gloom overcoming him.
“Make her cum before I do then, jackass,” Chuuya says, largely ignoring Dazai as he plays with your tits. “Prove you’re better than me.”
“Make me cum, Dazai. Let me use Chuuya like a fuck toy.”
“God damn,” Chuuya says, bucking his hips up again. “I know that’s all I am, but fuck.”
“Yeah…” Dazai’s frown slowly turns to a smirk. “He is just a fuck toy. A big fuck toy that’s gonna fill you up with cum just how you like.” As you and Chuuya give Dazai identical confused looks, Dazai points Chuuya’s cock at your hole and guides him in. The tip drags against your inner walls so well and has you moaning and grinding down on him.
“Go, Slug. Fuck my girl.”
Chuuya’s hips immediately start thrusting up into you. He braces his feet on the floor to get a better angle and he loses himself fucking you.
“Holy fuck you’re wet,” he huffs. “So fucking good.”
“Oh, yeah,” you moan, reaching up and around to hold the side of his head. “Oh, fuck. Chuuya.”
Dazai tries not to react to the way you moan Chuuya’s name and caress him. It’ll be over soon and he’s not about to let his jealousy take away from the incredibles view he has of your pussy being rammed by a nice, thick cock-- not that he’d ever say those words out loud for Slug to hear.
He kneels between yours and Chuuya’s legs and runs his hands across your abdomen and belly and near your cunt, calculating how long he think the two of you are gonna last. He knows you’re already sensitive from cumming with him before, and Chuuya hasn’t cum yet at all, so maybe if Dazai gets your pussy clenching around him it’ll be over within five minutes tops.
Dazai leans down with that plan in mind and without impeding Chuuya’s thrusting, he gets his face right up to your cunt and uses the tip of his tongue to circle your clit. You whimper and buck your hips up, then push them back down to meet Chuuya. Dazai doesn’t even need to spit on you-- you’re plenty wet enough-- but he does it anyway, landing a glob right on your swollen clit. He uses the excess wetness to have his tongue gliding effortlessly in circles around your nub. Finally he gets your attention again, and you moan his name. The hand that isn’t in Chuuya’s hair slides down into Dazai’s, and he relaxes a bit now that you’re touching him.
The combination of Chuuya fucking you from behind and Dazai’s tongue now flicking relentlessly back and forth over your clit-- all the wet sounds, the smell of Chuuya’s cologne, his moaning in your ear, his hands still tweaking and playing with your incredibly over-sensitive nipples-- it’s too much. You can’t even talk; you can’t tell either one how you feel, how good they are. You can hardly moan, most of what comes out of you being only broken, stuttery noises thanks to the way Chuuya’s movements wrack your whole body and control the way even your breathing works right now.
I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna make it. you think, but you’re unable to warn either one of them. Chuuya must know it’s coming from the way your cunt clenches around him. He hisses and turns his head so his lips hover over your nose, moaning your name right at you.
Finally it happens when Dazai sucks on your clit and pushes a finger into your tight cunt alongside Chuuya’s cock. It’s overwhelming. There’s too much happening, too much going on from the both of them. You’re completely dumb on Chuuya’s cock, complete putty in Dazai’s hands.
You cum hard, arching your back up to let Chuuya fuck you deeper if possible. You squirt profusely, drenching Dazai’s mouth and getting a surprised chuckle from him.
“Good girl,” he praises, but you barely hear it over the way Chuuya shouts a string of swears next to your face. His hands finally leave your tits and grip your hips hard. He only thrusts a few more times before he’s cumming too, painting the inside of your cunt white for the second time.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Chuuya chants as he comes down, his movements slowing until he’s finally completely still. Dazai sits up and smiles a shit-eating grin at you.
“We made her squirt, Slug. Did you feel it?”
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans, dropping his head back and turning it away from you. “I’m not cleaning that shit up, though.”
“Did you cum inside…?” you ask quietly as Dazai starts maneuvering Chuuya’s softening dick out of you.
“He said to,” Chuuya says flippantly.
“Think about it, baby,” Dazai says. “There’s no way his shitty little swimmers will beat mine. If you get pregnant, that's gonna be my baby in there.”
“It’s only ‘cause you’re a shitty mackerel. Fish swim.”
#ask answered#dazai smut#chuuya smut#dazai x reader#chuuya x reader#dazai headcanons#chuuya headcanons#soukoku smut#bsd skk#bsd dazai#bsd chuuya
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