#like shut up shut the fuck shut the fuck up
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"You said you love me exactly the way I am"
#theres a reason im this queer /j#silly stuff pls ignore#anyway little ramble time but. i think those two clowns have quite literally given me one of the best gifts i could ever ask for#and that is community#they've given me confort. a constant source of entertainment. friendship with some of the sweetest and most supportive people i ever could-#-have met. they've given me a chance to share one of the things that give me the most joy - my art - to people that are interested in seeing#it. and people like it! people enjoy seeing my stuff for even a second! and they share their stuff with me!!!#falling in love with the daycare attendant is one of the best things to ever happen to me and i will never shut up about it#because i have never seen this much love#and i hope the universe knows how much i love it back#im gonna be an emotional mess moots pls deal with me#anyway who let me be insane about them for [checks calendar] LIKE TWO FUCKING YEARS NOW#sunshine draws#dca fnaf#dca fandom#dca sun#dca moon#beloveds#doodles#self insert#a gift for myself
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Can you please elaborate on the original FFXIV getting blown up?
yeah so, in summary, when FF14 was first released it was helmed by an entirely different team of producers who were very much not interested in learning from developments in the MMO genre up to that point and kinda created a mess of a game. it wasn’t really due to one thing in particular that the game failed though, the entire production was highly mismanaged. people knew in beta that it was going to be a mess but they pushed it out anyway and it was a major flop critically and a big hit to square’s reputation. the producers were then removed from the project and another producer named Naoki Yoshida who had a lot of experience working on the Dragon Quest MMO was brought on to replace them and hopefully improve the state of the game.
when realizing just how fucked FF14 1.0 was at the time, yoshida gave square a bit of a hail mary option and was like “we can improve this game, but it will never be great in this form. let me continue making updates to the game… while also in the background secretly rebuild the entire game almost from scratch”. fucking miraculously square was like “yeah sure” and actually gave that idea the greenlight, with a 2-year window to release.
so that became the plan. improve the game in incremental amounts for players currently sticking with it, and then wipe the whole slate clean and release a FF14 2.0 that was a fundamentally remade experience, actually taking more design inspiration from other successful MMOs and other final fantasy games. they didn’t just decide to wipe the original game on a meta level though, they actually worked the destruction of FF14 1.0 into the plot of both games. and so, famously, the day that the servers for 1.0 were shut down was a day where IN GAME players fought a horde of deadly monsters spawning around the world until inevitably a giant moon crashed into the world and took the servers offline for good. and then when you play 2.0, they frequently reference this calamity in the early MSQ and players who stuck with 1.0 until the end actually got their entire character transferred over with a special tattoo, opening cutscenes, and special dialogue throughout the MSQ that connects them to the game that was deleted.
there’s a 3-part noclip documentary that goes into more detail, it is FASCINATING stuff.
youtube
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UR REBLOG AWAKENED SOMETHING IN ME reader giving jjk men (specifically gojo 🤫) head for the first time🗣️🗣️🗣️
S★CKIN’ IT RIGHT!
featuring: gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. (all characters are aged up)
NSFW MDNI. how they react to a nice glock for the first time!
n. keeping it short n’ nasty 😏 hope ya like it babes <3
ITADORI YUUJI. his breath hitched, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper. face flushed in pink and forehead drenched in cold sweat already. even from the first second your lips parted around his shaft, you earned a sweet wail from your boyfriend. “a-ah, fuuuckkkk, baby,” your eyes flew open as you felt him jerking his hips forward, a lil’ frantic for your attention, making you chuckle at him. tipping his head backwards every now and then as he begged and moaned desperately.
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. groans, breathy groans were all you could hear from him. you swirled your tongue around his tip, earning a silent gasp from your boyfriend. his emerald eyes shutting and head thrown back as you drooled over his thick veiny length. “fucking, hng, god,” he grunted, compressing his syllables into groans and biting his lower lips to make the moans sound rough. your movements were deliberate and slow. so you took a long, flat lick down his length before taking it all in again. that's when he couldn't hold it back anymore.
GOJO SATORU. he thought you were the goddamn best with your hollowed cheeks, tongue playing at his cock and gulping him until his tip reached your back as your head bobbed up and down constantly. moans furiously as your lips swallowed him whole, his favorite part when you draw back to lick along the underside of his cock. “mhmmm, so soo gooood for mee,” gojo was completely and utterly lost in the ecstasy of the pleasure. “shiiiit, yeah—just like dat, keep goin’ baby, keep, hng, going..”
YUUTA OKKOTSU. it started when you flicked your tongue around his warm top and took it all in, giving it a short suck with only your naked lips enclosing his cock. yuuta began to squeal and pant heavily as a result of your tongue's vicious movement. "b-baby, don't—ah" tears welled up behind his eyes, and all he could see were the hazy lights that dazzled them. the guy was growing hotter, and the sensitivity down below was pushing him to cry even harder.
@uzurakis
#.writing#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#megumi fushiguro x reader#fushiguro x reader#megumi smut#megumi x reader#megumi x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#jjk gojo#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#itadori smut#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori x you#itadori x reader#yuuji x reader#yuuta okkotsu x reader#yuuta fluff#yuuta okkotsu smut#yuuta smut#yuta x reader#yuuta x reader
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Does It Hurt? : Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Sex Pollen Fic
Summary: Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.
Warnings: angst, sex pollen, unprotected sex, fingering, restraints, abduction, violence (b/c Bucky is protective as fuck), profanity, voyeurism/exhibitionism (if you look hard enough), no use of y/n, only pet name use is random mentions of princess (facetiously)/baby/sweetheart, mention of SA of unknown characters from an old HYDRA experiment, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 24.3k
A/N: This is very lengthy, I know, but I thought you all deserved one long post that you could read at once (or at your own pace) vs. me committing to and failing at maintaining a posting schedule for a multi-part series. I hope at least a few of you find it to be an interesting read.
You lived in the tower for two months before you ever formally met Bucky Barnes. Once you’d met him, you knew you didn’t want to work with him. You were sure that he was good at his job, you could tell that just from the fact that Sam was his partner. But it wasn’t about that. It was the way he looked at you with such an unsettling gaze, the way the hair on the back of your neck would stand up as soon as he was in the same room as you, even if you hadn’t yet laid eyes on him. Everything about him kept you on edge. So, instead of being sent on missions with Sam and Bucky, you did a lot of solo missions. It’s as if Fury sensed your apprehension about working with them and decided to give you a reprieve.
After three months of living in the tower, you ended up on the same training schedule as Bucky. You found yourself frequenting the gym at the same times as the steely, unreadable super soldier. When you were sparring in the ring, he’d be just a few meters away, lifting weights like he was worried the serum would one day dissipate from his system. When you were stretching on the mats after a long run, he would be doing an ungodly number of pull-ups. Of course, this meant that you’d be hitting the showers around the same time as well. At first, Bucky made a valiant effort to be a gentleman. You always beat him to the gym showers and he felt it would be disrespectful for him to use them at the same time, even though each shower is afforded plenty of privacy behind a locked stall-style door. So, he would sit around and wait in the gym until you left, leaving a vanilla-scented trail in your wake. It wasn’t until you’d been on the same schedule for a week straight that you finally spoke to him.
“You know there are multiple showers in there, right?” You’d asked as you walked past him one day, smelling of something sweet and looking perfectly refreshed after a shower. Bucky cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at you, and you took that as a sign that he didn’t quite catch your lighthearted tone. He didn’t say anything in response, which is why you were so surprised to hear the locker room door swing open and then click shut as you showered the next day. From then on, you and Bucky showered at the same time, just a few stalls apart, after every early morning in the gym.
It was three weeks after that when you ended up on the radar of an organization that never should’ve caught sight of you. Bucky likes to blame himself for that. They were watching him, after all, and if he hadn’t taken that one assignment that night, if he hadn’t answered that one call from Fury, HYDRA never would’ve profiled you. HYDRA never would’ve looked into you and found out that you were the perfect candidate for their operation.
Both you and Bucky can recall that one mission perfectly, though you each have very different perspectives on it. It was a solo mission for you, one that should’ve been fairly low risk and easy to handle without any backup. There was virtually no danger, not a single red flag came up during your recon in the days prior to the mission. That’s why you were caught so off guard when you started to get an uneasy feeling around midnight. That was when you realized just how persistent your target was, just how set he was on getting everything he wanted from you. You had only needed to get close to him for a few minutes, but somehow you ended up in a private room with him. As the scent of your perfume soaked into his button-up shirt and your lip gloss left a trail of glitter down the side of his neck, you knew you weren’t going to get out of this one easily. When his hands started kneading the curve of your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your short black dress to get a good feel of your skin, you knew you needed help. So, as you kissed and sucked on the skin of your target’s neck, you used one hand to press the panic button on your necklace. You had no idea that Bucky Barnes would be the one sent to save you.
Bucky was wide awake before he ever got the call from Fury that night. He’d always had trouble sleeping, but lately the trouble seemed worse than usual. He never once pieced together that his struggles with insomnia were worsened on the nights that he didn’t hear you across the hall. When he got the call from Fury, he was on his feet and headed downstairs to his bike in less than thirty seconds. By the time he was on his bike, his thoughts had already veered into dangerously homicidal territory. As he sped down the darkened highway, skillfully weaving in and out of Friday night traffic, he could hear Dr. Raynor’s rule echoing in the back of his mind. No one gets hurt. In that particular instance, Bucky chose to apply the rule to you, rather than to the piece of shit that had you feeling unsafe enough to press a panic button.
After that night, Bucky’s gaze never felt unsettling to you again. Though a shiver might still run down your spine when he was in your vicinity, you found that you liked having his eyes on you. He was watchful in a way that made you feel safe and seen. Maybe it was the way he tried to be civil when he first showed up at the club that night. He acted as if he’d merely stumbled into the private room accidentally, profusely apologizing as the door swung shut behind him and he ran a hand through his slightly messy brown hair. For a man that hadn’t been drunk in at least eighty years, he sure as hell was good at pretending that he was.
“I was looking for the men’s room, but I guess this probably isn’t it.” He said, slurring his words slightly and shifting his eyes back and forth between you and the man you were straddling on the couch. The man’s hands remained firmly on your ass, which had Bucky ready to put a bullet right between his eyes. He probably would’ve done it too if you weren’t right there on his fucking lap. He’s a good shot, but it was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
“It’s the second door on the right, down the hall.” Your voice was unexpectedly soft and gentle for a girl who’d just finished putting on a show for some of the city’s most questionable men.
“Second door on the right.” Bucky repeated, mumbling the words as he took a couple of unsteady steps further into the dimly lit room. “You work a pretty dangerous job, don’t you?” He focused his blue eyes on you. One thing about making eye contact with Bucky Barnes is that it’s simultaneously intoxicating and sobering.
“She told you where the men’s room was, now you have five seconds to get there.” The man between your legs said coldly, letting his hands slide away from your ass to rest on your thighs. Bucky chuckled lowly, in a way that had goosebumps rising on your skin and anticipation building in your gut. He took another step closer to the couch, but this time it was clearly steady and purposeful. You swallowed hard, suddenly a bit worried that you were the only thing between the two men.
“I know you were being generous with the five seconds but…” Bucky began calmly, reaching into the back of his waistband and pulling out his firearm. You felt the man’s muscles stiffen beneath you instantly. “I’m going to give you exactly one to get your hands off of her.”
From then on, things were different. Though you still didn’t work together on anything directly, Bucky always seemed to know what missions you were on. You learned that his timing is impeccable, that he’s always the first one the show up when you put out a call for help, and he shows up faster than should be possible. You learned that he has rules, rules that he doesn’t follow but that he seems to cling to anyway, as if they give him some kind of comfort. The most important rule is that no one gets hurt. He broke that one when he pistol-whipped your target in the club that night. You also learned that he has a dark past, the kind that keeps him in constant danger. If you’d known that his past would introduce you to that same kind of danger, you might’ve done things differently.
Bucky likes to think that he would’ve done things differently, that he would’ve turned down Fury’s call to be your backup that night, that he would’ve let someone else save you if he’d known. If he’d known that HYDRA was still breathing down his fucking neck, watching his every move outside of the tower, waiting for the right time to get their bloodstained hands on the Winter Soldier once more. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have put you in harms way. He might’ve saved you from one handsy lowlife, but he sealed your fate when he pushed your hair away from your face and pulled his helmet over your head that same night. That was the exact moment that HYDRA got a glimpse of you.
As fucked up as it is, HYDRA could see the connection between the two of you long before you or Bucky ever could. That’s why they chose you.
That’s why, unbeknownst to you, you’re currently less than twenty-four hours away from falling right into their hands.
The soft pattering sound that raindrops make when they fall onto the roof of a parked car has always been one of your favorite melodies. It’s what’s lulling you into such a sleepy state right now as you try to make it through hour five of your solo stakeout. Glancing over at the screen in the center of the dashboard, you see that your target is doing exactly what he’s been doing since you first arrived outside of his building a few hours ago. Through the view of a heat-signature camera, you see his tall, lanky form hunched over at his desk. You never thought you’d wish for someone to break the law, but god, here you are now, wishing he’d do something, anything, to warrant you bringing in a strike team to bust down his door and drag his ass out. You’re just so damn bored. Maybe that’s why your mind starts wondering into territory it doesn’t belong in.
Bucky Barnes. The man who lives across the hall from you, the man who showers just two stalls away from you in the gym every morning, the man who saved your ass in such an attractive way that you haven’t been able to get him out of your head since. You hate that he always seems to have that indecipherable look on his face. You hate that half the time you can’t even tell if he even cares that you exist. You really hate that you find him so fucking fascinating. You like to tell yourself that if he was more open, more extroverted, you wouldn’t give him a second thought. It’s the fact that he’s so quiet and mysterious, that’s what draws you to him. You can’t help but want to figure him out, him and his dark, brooding ways.
A few minutes pass before you take another look at your target on the screen, noting that he’s still right there at his desk. You let out a soft sigh as you type out a quick message to Fury.
You: No movement for the past 5 hours, ready to get out of here. Send in a surveillance team for the rest of the night.
Fury’s quick to respond, letting you know that a surveillance van is being dispatched and that you can leave when it arrives.
So many things could’ve been done differently to prevent what would happen next. Fury could’ve given you a clear description of the van, he could’ve given you an exact ETA, he could’ve told you that the van would signal you with their lights when they arrived. You could’ve been a little less stubborn and let him assign you a partner so you weren’t sitting in such a remote part of the city all by yourself.
When a large black van starts approaching your car just ten minutes later, you get an uneasy feeling. You watch in your rearview mirror as it approaches from behind, driving slowly, with the headlights off. You should’ve known the surveillance team couldn’t have arrived on scene so quickly considering the area you were in.
It all happened too fast. It happened too fast and you don’t remember any of it. You don’t remember how hard you fought against them. You don’t remember hitting the panic button on your necklace before it was ripped from your neck and left in the street. You don’t remember taking out three men before the fourth one put a bag over your head and gave you an injection that put you into the deepest sleep you’ve had in years. You don’t remember a damn thing.
Bucky remembers it all as if he was there. He watched the footage of your attack and capture so many times that it’s burned in his brain. He should’ve been there. That’s why he’s doing what he’s doing now, losing sleep what little sleep he might’ve gotten over the last three nights and putting all of his energy into finding you. It’s why the second he found out it was HYDRA who put their hands on you, he became a version of himself that he swore was dead.
One-hundred and twenty hours. One-hundred and twenty fucking hours since Bucky last heard the sound of your door closing softly across the hall, since he last heard the sound of your triumphant laugh as you get a good hit in on your sparring partner, since he last heard the sound of your voice. Your voice. A sound he didn’t know was giving him life ever since it first graced his ears. Bucky throws another solid punch at the bag that hangs in front of him in the gym, not in the least bit surprised when the chain suspending it from the ceiling snaps and the bag goes flying into a wall at least twenty feet away.
“I’ve only ever seen one other person do that to a punching bag.” Fury’s voice rings out, interrupting the silence surrounding Bucky and breaking through the thick fog in his mind. “And he was going through some shit too.”
“I’m fine.” Bucky lies straight through his teeth as he hangs another bag, barely giving Fury a sideways glance as he approaches from the shadows.
“Oh, you’re fine? And here I thought you might be at least a little upset that your across-the-hall neighbor was taken by the same people who ruined your life. Or do super soldiers not have feelings?” Bucky shoots Fury an annoyed look before throwing a few light punches at the new bag.
“Isn’t that what people want when they create super soldiers? Mindless soldiers who take orders and feel nothing?”
“You feel nothing?” Fury leans against the wall next to the previously airborne punching bag, glancing down at it with a look of familiarity. “Do you feel nothing for her?” Bucky’s fist collides with the bag almost hard enough to snap the chain, and though Fury is standing in the danger zone, he doesn’t flinch.
“What do you want?”
“I want to know why this is affecting you so much. Is it who was taken or is it who did the taking?”
“Does it matter?” Bucky’s tone conveys every bit of his exasperation as he steadies the punching bag with both hands and raises a furrowed brow at the director.
“It does.” Bucky could lie. He could lie or he could just refuse to answer. He never signed any contracts saying he had to be forthcoming with Fury at all times, he never so much as promised that he’d be honest with him. But for some reason, he tells the truth.
“Both.”
“What lengths would you go to to save her?”
Bucky’s hands remain on either side of the punching bag, squeezing it hard enough to leave imprints in the tough canvas fabric. Images of you being taken in such a violent way swirl around in his mind, playing on repeat with Fury’s last question as the soundtrack.
“Lengths I haven’t been to since my arm had a fucking star on it.”
Your life has been reduced to brief moments of consciousness and flashes of things that your drugged mind is trying so hard to piece together. You remember the flash of a butterfly needle piercing your left arm and the cool sensation of saline entering your circulation from an IV drip. You remember someone swiping at your forehead with a wet cloth, leaving a stinging pain right above your left eyebrow and around your bottom lip. You remember harsh Russian words being spoken over you as you lost your grip on reality and went tumbling into the oblivion of a heavily sedated sleep. You remember waking up a second time and seeing nothing but gray concrete walls all around you. The air was stagnant and chilly, making you wish you had more than what felt like a small paper gown covering your skin. The sound of a metal door creaking on its hinges and a gruff voice barking orders at someone in Russian was the last thing you heard before your eyes closed and your head fell back once again. The third time you awoke from your medically-induced slumber was this morning, when the drugs were finally clearing your system. You found yourself still in that small concrete room, strapped to some kind of exam table, covered from your toes to your shoulders by a thin white sheet. Not a single thing has happened since then. You’ve laid on that exam table for hours, alternating between staring up at the dim light hanging from the ceiling above and staring at any one of the four gray walls around you. There’s a rusted metal door immediately to your left, but you found your neck too sore to turn and stare at that for very long.
You can’t seem to remember how you got here, or much less where the fuck here is. You’ve wracked your brain repeatedly, trying to piece it together, but the only thing you remember is your last interaction with Bucky Barnes.
You don’t usually wash your hair in the gym shower. You remember that on the morning of the day you were taken, you spent an extra two minutes in the shower washing your hair. It’s how you ended up in front of the mirror, with your towel wrapped tightly around your body, working the tangles out of your hair with your bare hands. It’s why Bucky took one step out of his shower, with his own towel slung low on his hips, and froze. You caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, the reflection perfectly capturing every detail of him. Drops of water clung to his tan skin, rolling down the ridges and valleys of his toned abs. The curve of his right shoulder could’ve been crafted by a master potter, sloping down to a defined bicep and forearm, accentuated by apparent veins holding such a steady balance of blood and super soldier serum. But his left shoulder? Your eyes were drawn to what was left of it. The skin there looked so painfully marred and fused to his black and gold vibranium arm. You stared a moment too long before you realized you were the one who messed up, you were usually gone by now. Bucky never would’ve stepped out of his shower if he knew you were there, right there in nothing more than a small white towel that was threatening to reveal where your thighs curve upward into your ass.
“My hair…” You had said softly, your voice coming out timid and gentle. Bucky remained frozen, watching as your eyes slowly moved away from his scars and settled on the dog tags that hung around his neck. When you finally looked him in the eye in the reflection of the mirror, you seemed to find your voice again. “My hair got tangled.” Bucky only nodded, giving you an unreadable look as he took a slow step forward to head to the locker room for his clothes. You don’t know why you didn’t leave it at that.
Bucky doesn’t know why you didn’t leave it at that either, but everything that happened after that is exactly why he’s taking your disappearance so fucking hard.
“Does it hurt?” You asked so quietly that Bucky thought he might’ve imagined it. He was a mere foot behind you when the question left your lips. You felt your cheeks blushing pink as his feet stilled and he met your gaze in the mirror once more.
“Does what hurt?” You could’ve just said it. You could have just fucking said it, you didn’t have to do what you did. You turned around slowly, letting your fingers slip out of your hair before reaching a hand out and letting your fingertips ghost over where skin meets vibranium on Bucky’s left shoulder.
Bucky couldn’t fucking breathe. As your soft fingers traced his scars, he drew in a deep breath and seemingly forgot how to exhale. You didn’t notice the way his eyes closed as you studied his skin beneath your touch, you didn’t even notice the way his chest stopped rising and falling. Your touch was so light and gentle, so innocent and yet it changed something in the atmosphere. The air in the room grew so thick that Bucky felt as though he might suffocate, you felt it too, but you didn’t withdraw your hand. It was the contrast between his rough scars and your soft fingers, combined with the warm, steamy air, and the water droplets rolling down Bucky’s back that had him growing overstimulated. When he opened his eyes and looked down at you, he watched as the towel clinging to your chest had begun to lose its grip, slipping down an inch to reveal a little too much skin while simultaneously not revealing damn near enough. He didn’t even realize what he had done until he had your wrist clamped in his flesh hand and your palm was flat against his scarred shoulder. You were looking up at him, and though he expected to find fear or apprehension in your eyes, he found nothing of the sort.
“You’re not wearing your necklace.” He said matter-of-factly, narrowing his eyes at you, but keeping his grip on your wrist, preventing you from taking your hand away from his shoulder.
“Should I be?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. Bucky shrugged, the action moving your hand slightly but still, he held it in place.
“You’re standing here in nothing but a towel with a guy you barely know and you don’t think you should have your panic button around?”
“Every time I press it, you show up.” You pointed out. Bucky dropped your wrist and you pulled your hand back to your side slowly, but didn’t take a step away from him.
“I’m starting to think you only press it when you want to see me.” His tone was taunting, almost playful, and you picked up on the smirk that was threatening to take over his features.
“What happens if I press it one night when I’m not on a mission?” Your boldness came out of nowhere. Bucky cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, wondering to himself if you were just playing along with his little game or if the entire exchange had a hint of something real in it.
“Press it sometime and we’ll find out.”
As you lie on the uncomfortable exam table with restraint straps digging into your arms, legs, and torso, you have to wonder if you pressed your panic button the night you were taken. You can’t seem to remember a single thing about that day after the tense moment in the shower room with Bucky, everything after that is simply gone. Surely you didn’t get the chance to press the button, because if you did, you have no doubt that Bucky would’ve shown up. He might not have been close enough to show up before you were taken but you’re sure he would’ve showed up to the scene, found evidence that you were taken, and he would’ve been able to track and follow whoever took you. Wouldn’t he? He always shows up.
But if Bucky Barnes always shows up, then why are you here now? Why are you alone, in unknown territory, surrounded by thick concrete walls and the sinking feeling that no one is coming for you?
Bucky has gotten himself into some deep shit. He’s fully aware of that as he tilts his head back and rests it on the hard metal behind him. It’s the only part of his body that he can move with the restraint system that HYDRA has him in right now. It’s the same type of reinforced glass-walled system that has once held Loki, the Hulk, and even Bucky when the threat of descending into the Winter Soldier still loomed. HYDRA’s afraid of him when he’s in control of his own mind, so he’s here, locked away and feeling fucking helpless.
Bucky getting taken in by HYDRA was part of the plan to rescue you. You’re in a concrete bunker so deep underground that any attempts to infiltrate it and extract you would’ve only endangered both yours and countless other lives. There were too many unknowns. Truthfully, it was unknown if you were even in this bunker, when SHIELD found out that HYDRA has at least three within this state alone. The only reason they were able to narrow it down to this bunker was because of one double agent on the inside. They took a chance on his intel. They took a chance, allowed Bucky to fall into HYDRA’s hands, and now everything is stalled. Until he lays eyes on you and figures out where they’re holding you and what kind of shape you’re in, nothing else can happen. You’re both sitting ducks at HYDRA’s mercy.
He thought you were taken because of him. Bucky thought you had been targeted by HYDRA because they found out you were connected somehow, because they thought that taking you would be an affront to him. It made sense, if what they wanted was their hands on the Winter Soldier, then all they needed to do was touch something, someone, that he cared about. They knew it would drag him out into the open and give them a shot at having their prized possession back under wraps. Bucky was only partially right. They did indeed use you to draw him out, but you most definitely were never meant to be a simple means to an end.
They chose you because of what they saw that night when you climbed onto the back of Bucky’s bike. They chose you because every interaction they observed after that night was charged with indescribable tension, an obvious chemistry that was palpable even through surveillance cameras and monitors. They knew that you were the key to everything they were planning. So now here you are, sitting up on the side of the exam table, feeling weak and honestly, ready to accept death. As gloved hands move carefully against your upper back, removing a few stitches from a wound there, you wish that you’d died in the scuffle of your kidnapping. The sedation and drugs have fully cleared from your system and you’re trying hard to ignore the aches and pains raging beneath your skin and the dark thoughts clouding your mind. You clutch the white sheet over your bare chest and grit your teeth as the gloved hands tug on a particularly tight stitch in your back.
“I can’t give you any pain medication today.” The man behind you says in a hushed tone, noticing the way your muscles tense every time he touches you. “It would interfere with tonight’s test.” He continues working on your wound as you sit in silence, refusing to engage with him. Tonight’s test. Questions start swirling through your mind at warp speed, begging to be asked, but you press your lips together tightly. “You don’t know it yet, but I’m the only friend you have in here.” His confession comes as a hurried whisper.
The man finishes up removing your stitches and then takes a few steps around the side of the exam table, coming to stand in front of you. Finally meeting his gaze, you see a tall, thin man, probably a few years older than you, with warm brown eyes. He doesn’t offer a reassuring smile or anything of the sort, but something in his eyes makes you feel like there might be some truth to his claim.
“Lie back, I need to see your ribs and your left hip.” You don’t really know why you do as he says, but you listen. You lie back on the exam table, thankful that he doesn’t move to use the restraints, and you shift the white sheet so it covers your breasts but allows him to view your ribcage. You cast your eyes downward, taking in the sight of the blue and purple bruises decorating your left side. That must be why it hurts so fucking much to take a deep breath. What the hell did they do to you? “I did x-rays when you first got here, you have a couple of hairline rib fractures, but nothing major.” He runs his cold gloved fingertips over the bruises, palpating lightly and listening for the sounds of any crepitus, which would indicate much more than just a little hairline fracture or two. He hears nothing, and skims his fingers down to your left hip. It’s the worst of what you’ve seen so far. The bruising there is much darker and more expansive than the bruising over your ribs. Even just his featherlight touches there elicit a pain that has your eyes screwing shut and your teeth clenching. “It’s not broken.” He tells you, as if that’ll suddenly resolve your pain. As soon as he retracts his hand, you’re covering yourself with the sheet once more and moving to sit back up on the side of the table. Your bodily movements are slow and careful, to avoid aggravating all of these injuries that you didn’t know you had.
“How long have I been here?” You almost choke on the words as they slip past your lips, the dryness in your throat making it painful to speak. Your voice is so raspy that you barely recognize it as being your own. Maybe you should’ve started with asking for a sip of water.
“Today is your seventh day here.” The man answers in his softest whisper yet, as if he isn’t supposed to tell you. Seven days? Seven fucking days you’ve been lying on this exam table, sedated to the point of losing nearly a week of consciousness? Your nails dig into the side of the exam table as rage begins to course through your veins. “Don’t do anything stupid.” You look up to find the man standing still before you, his eyes darting from your white knuckles and then to your face. Inhaling deeply through your nose, you will yourself to calm the fuck down and focus.
“Where is here?” You ask shakily, your rage spilling over into your raspy tone.
“That doesn’t matter. There’s something else we need to talk about, but it’s not the right time yet.” Suddenly, you hear what sounds like footsteps and a bit of commotion somewhere outside the rusted metal door of your concrete room. It’s not yet very close, but you can tell whatever it is, it’s getting closer to you. The man’s expression grows nervous and he quickly begins cleaning up the tray table beside him, wrapping his mess of old stitches and bloody gauze up in a small plastic sheet. “I’ll be back here tonight, but someone will be with me. They’re going to make me give you an injection. Don’t fight it, please. It will wear off by the time morning comes.”
“What’s in it?” You ask, matching his hurried tone and low volume. He’s moving to the door in an instant, with sweat beading along his hairline and his cheeks flushing pink. “What’s in the injection?”
“Something that won’t kill you, but you’ll wish it would.”
He’s going to snap every piece of metal and shatter every fucking inch of glass that’s holding him in place right now. Bucky’s seething, his face flushed and his chest heaving as he calculates how many concrete walls stand between him and wherever the fuck you’re being tortured right now. Another pained scream reverberates through the bunker and it reaches Bucky’s straining ears, making his blood boil. It’s you. He’s sure it’s you. Though he’s never heard you scream before, he has no doubt that it’s you. Bucky’s curling his fingers into fists and scrunching his eyes shut when he hears the electronic lock to the room that he’s in beep a few times and then click. The door slides open quickly, revealing a handful of guards and a pair of electronic handcuffs.
“Are you ready to see your little girlfriend?” One of the guards spits the words out as if they’re venom, his thick Russian accent clinging to each word. “I think she needs you.”
What the fuck is this? Bucky’s mind is reeling as he tries to keep his cool, refusing to blow the entire op by losing his temper and bashing a few heads in. As long as they’re really taking him to you, he won’t kill anyone — not yet anyway. He stays silent as the guards get into formation around the entrance of the chamber he’s in. He doesn’t breathe a word as the head guard places the electronic cuffs around his wrists and presses a few buttons to release the full body restraints that he’s been in for hours. He thinks about how he could easily kill every single waste-of-breath in this tiny concrete room, even with the handcuffs on, but when another scream rings out, and much louder this time with both the chamber and room door being open, Bucky’s only thinking about one thing: getting to you.
“You recognize her screams, don’t you? Is that how she sounds when you fuck her?” Bucky starts counting down in his head.
Three. He’ll give the man exactly three seconds to shut the fuck up.
“I bet her pussy is as pretty as her moans, yeah?”
Two.
“Maybe I’ll find out for myself, she wouldn’t be able to fight me off when she’s restrained.”
One. The sound of the man’s skull cracking as Bucky effortlessly knocks him to the concrete floor is sickening. Before any of the other guards have a chance to save him, his head is between Bucky’s tactical boot and the ground. A second cracking sound echoes in the room and the man is dead. Truthfully, he sealed his fate the moment he had a single untoward thought about you. None of the other guards make a move. They’re all frozen, staring at Bucky with mixes of fear, anger, and uncertainty. They don’t know what to do without their fearless fucking leader.
“Take me to her or I will kill every single one of you without lifting a fucking finger.”
He showed up. Bucky Barnes showed up. With the amount of pain flooding your nerve endings and making you see stars, your first thought is that he isn’t real. The tall, broad-shouldered man standing before you, with his black and gold arm reflecting the dim light that hangs from the ceiling, can’t be real.
Bucky stares at you from across the small concrete room. You’re sitting in the farthest corner, with your back against the rough wall and your knees pulled up tight to your chest, wearing what looks to be a tattered hospital gown. It’s fucking heartbreaking. The way your eyes flit up to his, looking at him as if he’s a figment of your imagination, it shifts something within him. A shudder racks through your body and a torturous moan leaves your lips. Bucky’s feet are carrying him forward in an instant, closer to you. You’re dropping your head to your knees and biting down on your forearm, refusing to let yourself watch as he grows closer. He isn’t real. This isn’t real, you tell yourself. The pain is making you hallucinate.
Cold, smooth metal ghosts along the side of your face, pushing your hair behind your ear and then following the curve of your jaw down toward your chin. Bucky’s clenching his teeth together as you let him lift your head, as you lift your eyes to meet his.
“You showed up.” Your voice breaks him. It breaks him into a million little tiny flesh and vibranium pieces. It breaks him in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever been broken before. When you lean into his touch, he wants nothing more than to pick you up and draw you into his lap, to cradle you against his chest and tell you that he’s going to get you out of this hellhole. But he doesn’t.
“I showed up.” He says softly, brushing his thumb over a bruise on your cheek. “What have they done to you?” His eyes part from yours as he takes in the full sight of you. His fingers move up to trace the healing cut above your eyebrow, then down to graze along the cut at the corner of your mouth.
“I’ve been sedated until today. They gave me something not long ago, an injection.” Your muscles tighten involuntarily as another wave of pain surges through you, forcing you to drop your head to your knees again as the room spins around you. The scream that erupts from you, that rips through your chest, is enough to rattle the metal tray table across the room. By the time the surge begins to pass, you’re shivering. You let your head fall back against the concrete wall behind you and find Bucky staring at you, his brows pinched together in concern and a sheen of sweat forming across his forehead. You don’t have the strength to fight when he grabs your hands and tugs you to your feet, lifting you into his arms with ease and carrying you bridal-style to the exam table in the middle of the room. He lays you on it carefully, but your thin gown shifts to reveal your heavily bruised hip and he feels a fresh serving of rage filling him up.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” He demands to know, pushing your gown a little further to reveal the entirety of the deep purple and blue bruise. “Torture?”
“No, I think this is the first round of torture.” You groan, trying to roll onto your side so you can curl back up into a ball. Bucky places his flesh hand on your lower stomach and his vibranium one on your thigh, holding you still. “They said it isn’t broken.”
“And you believe them?” He questions. His mistake comes when he finally touches your skin with his flesh hand. When he presses his warm palm flat against your bared hip, you suck in a sharp inhale and your eyes open wide. “Does this hurt?” He asks, but you don’t respond. You don’t say anything because it doesn’t hurt. It feels like stretching your muscles after a long nap, like laying in the summer sun to dry after swimming for hours. He notices the look of relief taking over your face, so he keeps his hand right where it is. “This doesn’t hurt.” He says incredulously, narrowing his eyes as he looks down at the swollen, angry skin. Leaning into his touch again, you take another deep breath. “What did they give you?”
“I don’t know. It was a liquid in a syringe, looked like about ten milliliters of something cloudy and white.” Another twinge of pain shoots through your body but it feels muted this time, just a fraction of its previous intensity. Bucky knows what they gave you. His breaths come in quicker, the slight hyperventilation making him a little lightheaded as HYDRA’s plan begins to unfold before him. He doesn’t remove his hand from your bruised hip, but begins to curl his fingertips against your skin instead. His eyes study your face, watching how it contorts, but not in pain. It contorts with the faintest promise of pleasure. He unfurls his fingers and begins sliding his hand upward, dragging his palm and fingers flat as he nears your waist. A soft whimper escapes your lips and he halts his movements. Your eyes flutter open and you meet his gaze with a furrowed brow as pain lingers in your nerve endings. The further up he moves his hand, the less relief you feel. After giving each other a charged look, he continues his upward movement. He's trying to confirm that this is what he thinks it is, while simultaneously checking you for any other bruises. He’s tallying them up in his head. Each bruise he finds is one more of HYDRA’s men that will be dying a slow, painful death at his hands. He uses his vibranium hand to push your gown further to the side, revealing the dark bruises along your ribcage just before his hand glides over them.
“Just hairline fractures.” You whisper, speaking the words through a shaky exhale. He’s going to kill someone. Probably more than one someone. It’s already settled, the certainty of that fact taking up residence in his bones. He will kill anyone who laid a finger on you. Actually, he’ll kill anyone who has so much as looked in your direction with ill intent over the last seven days. As soon as he gets you out of this damn concrete bunker and back to safety, he’s going on a fucking rampage. “Bucky…” His name falls from your lips in a way that has his body physically reacting. He feels sick over it, over feeling even the tiniest bit of pleasure when you’re in such a state.
“It felt better when I was touching your hip.” He already knows. You nod in response. Slowly, you reach down with your left hand, watching him cautiously as your hand comes to rest over the top of his that’s still lingering over your bruised ribs. He lets you guide his hand down your skin, inching closer and closer to your hip as your face relaxes and your eyes fall closed once more. “You don’t know what this is?”
“Just tell me.” You plead, scrunching your nose up when another muted surge of pain pulses down the back of your spine, shooting down to your fingers and toes like lightning. Still, with Bucky’s touch, it’s so much more bearable.
“It’s a chemical compound that HYDRA designed when they realized that recreating the serum from a super soldier’s DNA would take years. They wanted to shift into researching super soldier stem cells instead.” As soon as the words stem cells leave Bucky’s mouth, you know where this is going. A sheen of sweat is glistening across your forehead now, and you wipe at it with the back of your hand as Bucky continues to drag his palm in circles over your hip bone, trying to keep the worst of your pain at bay.
“What does the chemical do, Bucky?” Exasperation is evident in your tone, but it doesn’t even register in Bucky’s mind. He zeroes in on the way his name sounds rolling off of your tongue, trying his best to ignore the tent forming in his tactical pants. This is not the fucking time nor the place. He grits his teeth for a second and his hand stills on your hip, which earns him a displeased whimper from you and another noticeable hardening twinge in his cock. He’s quick to start rubbing circles against the skin of your hip again.
“It does a lot of things…causes pain that gets worse and worse over the course of about eight hours, makes you wish you were dead.”
“Yeah, I got that part.” You groan, considering curling into a fetal position. “But what’s the purpose of using it on someone? Why are they doing this?” There’s a long pause after your question, and you study the side of Bucky’s face as he watches his hand moving over your bruised hip. “Bucky?” Would it be wrong of him to tell you to stop saying his fucking name? He’s considering it.
“They used to inject super soldiers with it and then lock them in rooms with women. It enhances all of this reproductive shit, sends their sex drive into overdrive, all they can think about it getting off.” It’s crude, the way he describes it, but its effective in giving you a clear mental image of HYDRA’s depravity. Your heart is beating out of your chest as things start to make sense in your mind, as you realize the true gravity of the precarious situation that you’re in right now.
“Why haven’t I heard about this before?” You have to ask, but you’re sure you won’t like the answer. Bucky hesitates for a moment, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth and biting down, avoiding your gaze.
“It wasn’t effective.”
“Why not?” His hand pauses again, and this time, he withdraws his touch completely, taking a step back from the exam table you lie on.
“The women never survived.” A sinking feeling settles deep in the pit of your stomach, almost overwhelming the cramping pain you already feel there. He isn’t saying the women didn’t survive the dose of the drug. That’s not what he’s saying at all. He’s saying they didn’t survive being fucked by feral super soldiers. He’s saying these women were violated and then discarded like single-use plastic, all as part of HYDRA’s attempt to have at least one of them end up pregnant so they could harvest potentially super soldier serum-laden stem cells. Bucky can see the wheels in your head turning, he can see the panic rising up inside you before it’s even reached the surface. He doesn’t reach out to touch you, but god, he wants to. He wants to reassure you. “Something about this is different though. As far as I know, they never gave the women a dose of the drug. Only the men.” You take a few deep breaths, the mixture of sheer panic and an oncoming wave of pain quickly growing to be too much for you to handle.
“Touch me.” You choke out, just as another bolt of what feels like supercharged electricity shoots down your spine and raises your body temperature. You cry out in agony as you tremble on the exam table, barely noticing when Bucky steps forward and rests his hand on your hip again. You need more than that, so much more than that, and you both know it. When the wave of pain subsides and your breaths begin to come in slower, you peel your eyes open and find Bucky already focused on your face, concern, worry, and a good bit of rage etched into his features. “Why would they give this to me and not you?”
“I don’t…” His voice trails off as his eyes roam over the small bits of exposed skin, as he takes in the tattered hospital gown and the bruises and cuts littered across the expanse of your body. He knows why. He was going to lie to you, to tell you he doesn’t know. But what’s the point? “They know I wouldn’t lay a finger on you just to save myself.”
There it is. They’re dosing you to force his hand. He wouldn’t act on the torture if it was aimed at his body alone. He would suffer through the pain or die before he would touch a woman against her will, before he’d ever even think to ask that of someone. But when it’s you? He’d do whatever you ask of him, and somehow HYDRA found that out. HYDRA found that out long before even you did, and they’re using it against you both now.
“He said…the man who’s been treating my wounds, who gave me the injection earlier, he said tonight would be a test.” You whisper, your eyes roving over to the small camera mounted in the far upper corner of the ceiling. Bucky follows your gaze and thinks about ripping the camera right out of the fucking concrete.
Bucky’s trying hard to keep his composure. You’re the one weakness he didn’t even know he had until it was being exploited. What did he do to lead HYDRA right to you? Where did he go wrong? How the hell did everything go to shit so quickly?
He spends the next three hours doing everything he can to ease your pain and suffering without taking it too far. The camera captures everything. It captures the shift in the room when the drug really started to ruin you, when you turned into a moaning, trembling mess on the exam table. It captures Bucky trying to soothe you by running his single flesh hand along your thigh, your lower stomach, and at times even sitting you up to rub deep circles into your lower back. You still needed more. It’s not the first time that Bucky’s resented his vibranium arm, but it’s the first time he’s resented it for a reason totally unrelated to his own trauma. The only thing that’s offering you any relief right now is the feel of his skin against yours, and he can only give you 50% of what anyone else could, because he only has one fucking hand. After half an hour, your pain worsened to an unbearable degree and Bucky took matters into his own hands. That’s when the camera captured Bucky stripping the clothing from his upper body. It was a single cry that you tried to stifle that did it. His top was crumpled on the floor within seconds, his arms wrapping around your quaking body and lifting you from the table. Instead of carrying you bridal style this time, he guided your legs around his waist and let you collapse on his shoulder.
He took you right back to that corner of the room, the corner he first found you in. This time, he sat on the floor with his bare back pressing against the concrete wall. He turned you around in his lap as if you weighed nothing, twisting you until your back was to his chest and you were seated on the floor between his legs, and untied your gown to fully bare your back to him. The moment he placed his hands on your forearms and pulled you flush against him was the moment you knew you were fucked. It felt like coming up for air after tumbling around beneath crashing waves. When he slipped both arms under the fabric of the gown, wrapping them around your stomach and keeping you pressed against him, you felt relief and yet you only wanted – no, needed – more.
“Bucky, it’s not enough.” You whimpered, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder.
“I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry.” The sweet name hung in the air like smoke, swirling around in the corner of that concrete room. You felt a fire begin to build low in your stomach, replacing the agonizing ache you’d previously been feeling there. Bucky noticed the way your shoulders relaxed a little and the way a serene look briefly took over your features when he slipped up and called you that name. He doesn’t even know where the fuck it came from, but he’ll sure as hell keep using it if it’s doing you any good.
An hour later, the camera captured your thighs squeezing together as you continued to lean back into the super soldier behind you. It captured the internal struggle written all over his face as you fought the desire to straddle him right there on the floor and grind yourself against the sizable bulge in the front of his pants. He knew you needed it, but until you asked, until you vocalized it, he’d hold out. Though you didn’t know it, he was completely at your mercy.
When you started slipping in and out of consciousness, your heart beat rising to a dangerous rate, sustained well over two-hundred beats per minute, HYDRA watched on through their monitors as Bucky started to drag his lips over the skin of your neck. He pressed his lips to your pulse point, seeming to count the beats with the tip of his tongue as your eyes fluttered closed and a broken moan fell from your open mouth.
“What can I do? Tell me what I can do, please.” His plea registered in your mind but the ramifications of your response didn’t. There wasn’t a thought in your head when you reached beneath the gown and gripped his flesh hand, not a single damn thought when you guided his hand down between your legs.
The camera didn’t faze either of you. Though it was a consideration in the back of Bucky’s mind, his fingertips had already felt the wet fabric of the black panties you were sporting beneath the gown and his hand took it upon itself to do anything and everything you needed. With his vibranium hand holding your thighs apart and skilled flesh fingers pulling your panties to the side, Bucky was dipping two digits into your dripping cunt almost as soon as you’d spread your legs for him.
Bucky Barnes used nothing more than one hand and a few words of praise to draw two orgasms out of you, singlehandedly ending your suffering and lulling you into a state of semi-consciousness. He himself was in a daze when a team of guards swept into the room suddenly, four of them aiming their guns at his head as two of them pulled your limp body from his embrace and laid you back on the exam table in the center of the room. Bucky was left sitting in the corner, with sweat glistening along his exposed chest and abs, his dog tags sticking to his skin, and his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were fixated on his fingers, the two that were seated deep inside you just moments ago. The two fingers that worked your pussy until Bucky’s name was falling freely from your lips, until you wrapped your soft hand around his wrist and dug your nails in, leaving little half-moon shaped bruises in his skin. Until the power of your second orgasm took away almost all of the pain you’d been suffering through for the last three hours, and you went slack against Bucky’s chest. He left those two fingers buried in your cunt until the guards tugged you away from him, taking a piece of his already shattered soul with your weak body.
As the guards place Bucky back in electronic cuffs, not even bothering to have him put his shirt back on, he feels something rising up inside of him. It’s a part of him that he worked so hard to bury, to crush down into nothing more than dust and ash, never to see the light of day again. He feels a type of uncontrollable rage that he hasn’t quite felt since a time when he didn’t even know his own name.
Bucky feels the Winter Soldier clawing its way to the surface, scratching at the layers of his skin, begging to be set free. The only differences this time being who he’d be killing for and whether or not he’d be doing it willingly.
You. He’d be killing for you. And he would kill so fucking willingly.
Bucky is no stranger to nightmares. He’s no stranger to waking up in a cold sweat, his heart nearly beating out of his chest as he struggles to ground himself and remember that it isn’t real. He’s no stranger to being haunted during his waking hours, plagued by memories of what he’s done, or of what’s been done to him. What he is a stranger to is being haunted by you.
The little pants and gasps that fell from your lips so freely at the skilled work of his hand are engrained in his mind. They taunt him with every draft of filtered air that wafts around the chamber. He can still feel your back pressed against his chest, your thighs spread and leaning into his own, the soft tresses of your hair brushing against the side of his neck as you let your head fall back on his shoulder. He’s so fucking thankful that you let your head fall back that way. His control would’ve been in danger of slipping if you’d chosen to look down between your legs and watch as he slid his fingers in and out of you. Hell, his control was teetering on the fucking edge regardless. He hates that he knows how it feels to have your cunt gripping his fingers, your body begging him not to pull away, how it feels to have you relying solely on him for your release. He hates even more that he only has HYDRA to thank for it.
Bucky lets his head rest back and his eyes close tightly as a memory makes its way to the forefront of his thoughts.
“I’m not wearing your jacket.” You said defiantly, shaking your pretty little head and crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky was such a gentleman, keeping his gaze averted instead of taking in the way your stance was accentuating the shape of your breasts. Your breasts that were already threatening to spill over the black dress clinging to your curves. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to stop picturing your soft skin marred with road rash. He didn’t know you very well, but he knew that if you said you wouldn’t wear his jacket, then you damn sure wouldn’t be wearing it.
“Then you’re wearing my helmet.” He said coldly, turning to face you with his black helmet gripped in his flesh hand. “Or you can go back inside and leave a little more glitter on one of New York’s most upstanding men.” The hesitation that flashed across your face only frustrated him more, as if you were really thinking about going back into that damn shithole. “It’ll keep the wind from messing up your hair, princess.”
You stepped forward suddenly, coming close enough that your arms almost brushed against Bucky’s chest as your eyes narrowed in disdain. You looked up at him through your lashes in a way that had him feeling like he was on the edge of a rocky cliff, seconds from falling.
"Put it on for me then, soldier.” You said softly, your voice barely above the whistling of the wind. A low chuckle rumbled past his lips as he shifted the helmet to his vibranium hand and did something so unexpected. He reached up with his flesh hand and gently, so fucking gently, pushed a perfectly placed stray lock of hair behind your ear. The helmet was on two seconds later, and he only had to fasten the strap beneath your chin before you’d be ready to ride.
“Look up for me.” His tone was even, unwavering, even when his words were suggestive. The energy between you was electric. It felt like the sharp, crackling atmosphere you’d feel right before lightning strikes right at your feet. A chill spread throughout your body, and because of how close Bucky was standing and how focused you were on everything he was doing, you didn’t stop to think that the chill was really your sixth sense kicking in. You were being watched. You were being chosen by HYDRA as Bucky fastened the strap under your chin and met your gaze for a moment too long. Your fate was being sealed.
The electronic lock outside of Bucky’s concrete room beeps, dragging him out of his head and back to the present. His head snaps forward as the door slides open and a slew of guards pour into the room, followed by a tall, thin man with gray hair and dark, empty eyes. His skin looks as if it would slough off and turn to dust if a strong breeze hit him just right.
“The girl made it through the night, thanks to you.” The man says, keeping his eyes cast downward at an illuminated tablet in his hands. Bucky narrows his eyes, refusing to let relief cloud his focus. “She’s had almost twenty-four hours to recover so she’s about to get her second injection now.” Bucky’s muscles tense within the restraint system, but he maintains his composure, biting down on the inside of his cheek nearly hard enough to draw blood. “We need to go over some ground rules before tonight’s session begins. Are you going to cooperate with me?” The old man looks up now, his hollow eyes meeting Bucky’s without fear.
“I’m listening.” He spits the words out like venom.
“Based on the conversation the two of you had last night, you already know why we’re doing this. You were pretty spot on, really, I was impressed.” The man pauses, waiting for Bucky to respond. Bucky bites down a little harder on the inside of his cheek before inhaling deeply.
“What are the ground rules?” He asks tensely, growing more and more impatient with every passing millisecond.
“She stays in restraints. If you so much as look like you’re going to remove them, we’ll find another super soldier to pair her with.” Just the thought of any other man being near you after the injection they’re giving you right now has Bucky clenching his teeth. “You finish inside of her. If you don’t, you’ll have a front row seat to watch someone else do it next time.”
Finish inside of her.
Bucky knew what they were plotting, but it’s only hitting him now that he’s hearing it said aloud. Some part of him was assuming the team would’ve swooped in and staged a rescue before things got this far, before anything really happened. That part of him is sweating now.
“Consider this your one chance to get what you want from her.” The man taunts, turning on his heel and heading for the door. He stops right before reaching the exit, looking back over his shoulder at Bucky. “She might feel something for you but she never would’ve given you a chance in the real world. You’re a cold-blooded killer, a ruthless assassin with a dark past. She would’ve only ever feared you.”
Something’s different about the man with the warm brown eyes, the man who gave you the first injection. He seems almost as uneasy as you are about being here. He doesn’t quite belong.
“This will burn at first, just like last time.” He says quietly, flicking the tip of his gloved finger against the side of a syringe in an attempt to pop the air bubbles inside of it. You stare at the ten milliliters of white cloudy liquid with disdain. You remember what it did to you last night. Memories of searing pain mingle with memories of a familiar face. Bucky Barnes showed up. He came to your rescue and gave you exactly what you needed to survive the torture HYDRA chose to inflict on you. “Tonight is going to be different.”
“How so?” You ask, forcing your mind to abandon all thoughts of the man whose fingers were curled inside of you less than a day ago. You can’t think about that right now.
“There will be expectations, and if they aren’t met, things will get very bad for you very fast.” The man’s warning makes your blood run cold. You tense up as he runs an alcohol swab over the skin of your upper arm.
“Things aren’t already bad?” You ask sarcastically, glancing around the concrete holding cell you’ve lived in for days now.
“They want you pregnant. Whether that’s by your friend or not is up to the two of you.”
“Oh, we get choices now? Does HYDRA have a catalog of captive super soldiers that I get to choose from?” The man shoots you a callous look as he sinks the needle into your arm and pushes the plunger down, administering the drug quickly. You feel the burning sensation all around the injection site as he retracts the needle and drops it on the metal tray table beside him.
“Do you trust me?” He asks, turning away from you and peeling his gloves off. You watch him closely as he begins to clean up the various items on the tray table.
“Fuck no.”
“That’s fair, you don’t know me. But I know you. I know that you have all of SHIELD and a few other big-name agencies scrambling to rescue you. I know that you won’t be here for very long, and that Bucky Barnes being here was part of the plan to bring you home. I know that when I tell you I’m on your side, you won’t believe me for one second.”
His claims catch you off-guard. You’re frozen, sitting on the side of the exam table with your knuckles turning white as your grip on the edge of it tightens. The man doesn’t spare you a glance as he finishes wrapping up his trash from the tray table and places it in a small plastic bag at his feet.
“He killed a guard yesterday.” You process his words quickly, your eyes following his every move as he lifts the bag and heads for the door.
“Why?” You ask quickly, keeping your tone low. You’re tempted to look over your shoulder and see if the camera is on, but if it is, you don’t want to draw attention to the fact that this man is giving you information you shouldn’t be getting.
“Because apparently, you’re worth killing for.”
“He wouldn’t have done it just for me, there would’ve been a reason.”
“The guard was talking about fucking you.”
An unfamiliar feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as the implication of the man’s words sink in. Bucky killed someone for you?
Bucky killed someone for you.
Bucky could reduce the metal restraints around him to fragmented pieces on the floor. He could shatter the walls of this damn chamber with a single punch, without even using his vibranium arm. He’s envisioning himself kicking down the door to the room violently, ripping the electronic keypad lock from the wall, and shoving it up any one of the guards’ asses. Sweat is beading across his forehead and dripping down his hairline as he struggles to hold onto reality. He can see you when he closes his eyes. He can feel your head against his shoulder and the soft skin of your thigh against his palm. You’re so unreachable, locked in your own cell with multiple concrete walls and a few hundred meters between you and Bucky, and yet, it’s as if you’re right in front of him. The image of you is taunting him, daring him to lose control.
He doesn’t know how his touch soothed you in any way last night, not when the drug is wreaking this level of havoc on his own body. He can’t imagine finding relief in anything. He’s a trembling mess when a large team of guards descend upon the chamber. He doesn’t put up a fight as they remove him from the chamber restraints and place electronic cuffs around his wrists. The only thing that stops him from killing every single one of the men in the room right now is the fact that he’s sure they’re taking him to you.
His brain is fuzzy, his thoughts jumbled and hard to sort through by the time he’s positioned in front of another metal door with an electronic lock. He has a brief moment of clarity when he sees one of the guards key in the code: 0371. Even with the swarm of bees buzzing around in his head, he commits the number to memory, just in case he needs it later.
Bucky’s shoved forward into the room as soon as the door slides open, but with the lights low and his eyes not yet adjusted, he can’t see shit. He feels one of the guards moving to stand in front of him, removing his electronic cuffs, and then moving away. There’s a rush of cool air against his bare back as the door whooshes shut behind him. They never gave him his fucking shirt back.
You see Bucky before he ever sees you. As you lie on your back, with your hands restrained out to the sides, you let your eyes roam over his disheveled body. His hair is messy and his scruff is a little more grown out than you’re used to seeing. Sweat glistens across his bare torso and forehead. His eyes are narrowed as he searches the dark room for any sign of you. You’re about to call out to him when the room is suddenly cast in a pale, dim glow, and his eyes land on you, lighting your skin on fire. You feel vulnerable as his blue eyes rake over your body, taking in the sight of you restrained and only partially covered by a thin white sheet. They let you wear a black sports bra and pair of black underwear beneath the sheet, but that does little to make you feel any more covered.
A sharp pain starts to build in your lower stomach, spreading quickly down to your thighs and causing you to tense up beneath the sheet, bending your knees upward and letting out a soft groan. Bucky’s moving forward within a second, reaching the side of the bed and resting one knee on the mattress as he reaches for your restraints.
“Don’t.” You choke the word out, shooting him a warning glance. Your eyes fall to the right, looking just past him, and he turns his head to follow your gaze. The wall behind him is made entirely of mirror, a two-way mirror, presumably. Fuck HYDRA for that. He can hear those fucking ground rules replaying in his head like a broken record as he turns to look at you once more, as his eyes take in the ropes tied tightly around your already bruising wrists. He knows what’ll happen if he touches those restraints.
Bucky pulls his hand away from the restraints but leaves his knee propped on the side of the bed, looking down at you with concern as your face contorts with pain. He reaches down with his flesh hand, letting his fingertips ghost along your jawline, watching as your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze. He can’t stand seeing you this way for the second night in a row. Fury and the rest of the team should’ve had you out of here by now. What the hell are they waiting on now that they have Bucky on the inside?
“Bucky…” His name is a near whimper when it leaves your lips. Hearing you say it in such a way has him pulling his hand back and retreating from the bed quickly, like you have something he doesn’t want to catch. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to get out of this.”
You watch as Bucky’s eyes scrunch shut and his flesh hand moves to wipe a bit of sweat away from his forehead. You take a moment to let your eyes rake over the entirety of him. They definitely gave him the injection. You can tell by the way his pulse is visible in his neck even from a few feet away, by the way his chest rises and falls so much quicker than usual, and by the slight tent forming in the front of his tactical pants. You don’t let your gaze linger for long, not when you feel your pain and restlessness increasing just at the sight of him. You want him. You want him bad, and you’re afraid if you weren’t in restraints right now, you’d already be all over him. It’s fucking shameful.
When Bucky lets his eyes focus back on you after taking a minute to gather himself, he finds you staring up at the ceiling, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to leave an indentation of your teeth. The bulge that’s already straining against the fabric of his pants only grows, and he wants to bang his head against the concrete wall for that. He can only hope you haven’t noticed it yet, but he’s sure you have.
“What are our options here?” You ask, a slight rasp breaking through your normally smooth tone. Bucky can only assume it’s from all of the screaming you did the night before. He casts another glare in the direction of the two-way mirror wall, trying his best to look anywhere but at you.
“I don’t think we really have options here.” He answers honestly, rubbing the palm of his flesh hand against the back of his neck. His eyes are coasting over the concrete wall behind the bed now, still avoiding you. He feels a dull ache throbbing at the base of his skull and slowly spreading down his spine the longer he remains standing.
“I think we have a few.” Bucky raises an eyebrow at your statement, finally looking back at you. “We could refuse to do anything and see how long it takes for them to come in here and kill me.” Bucky narrows his eyes at your stupid suggestion, shaking his head slightly. You might think they’d just come in and kill you for refusing to cooperate but Bucky knows what they’d do. They’d take him out of the equation and bring in some other super soldier who wouldn’t think twice about taking everything from you. “We could do what they want, suffer through it, and pretend it never happened when we get out of here.”
Suffer through it. Bucky feels physically ill just from hearing you describe it that way. You think you’d suffer through sex with him. And almost worse than that, you seem to think he’d suffer through sex with you. He’s ready to bring the concrete bunker to the ground with just a few punches in order to get you out of here so you don’t have to suffer through a damn thing.
“Or we…” The words die on your lips as you watch Bucky’s muscles tensing and rippling with whatever pain or emotion he’s currently feeling. He looks pissed, honestly, and you’re not sure if that’s because of the situation you’re both in or because of something you said. You swallow hard, audibly enough that Bucky can hear it from across the room. “Or we could fuck.”
You’re not thinking straight, you can’t possibly be thinking straight. If you were, you wouldn’t have said that to Bucky just now, he’s sure of it. He’s holding his breath and keeping his brow furrowed as he stares at you, at the mouth that just said something to unhinged it sent heat flooding through his body. He’s staring at the mouth that he wants so badly to feel against his own, and for some reason, he can’t think of a damn thing to say to you. You shift under his gaze, repositioning your wrists so the ropes don’t pull as hard on your already bruised skin.
“Say something.” You press, hating the silence that’s weighing heavy on your shoulders.
“I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I gave you three options.” A distant pain rumbles through your body, making your bones tremble.
“And you want me to just pick one?” Bucky asks, sounding more and more on edge with every word. You inhale deeply and let out a sigh, choosing to stare up at the ceiling instead of staring at him any longer.
“What the hell even are those options? The first one, refusing to do what they want, that won’t end like you think it will. The second option just makes me feel…” Bucky starts pacing at the foot of the bed, letting the dim lights highlight his toned body perfectly with every jarring step he takes. “The second option makes me feel like shit. Suffer through it?” He casts you a sideways glance that makes you feel bad for the way you worded things just a moment ago. “You’ve been suffering since the night you got here and I’m not going to have a hand in adding to that. But the third option? What the fuck are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking it might be the only thing under our control.” You say softly, the meekness of your voice freezing Bucky mid-step. He’s at the center of the foot of the bed, slowly turning to face you head-on. He looks like a god from this angle and it makes you want to draw your knees up to your chest and close your eyes like a cowering child. He should look like shit. He should look as bad as you probably look right now after being held captive for so many days.
“What do you mean?”
“Not only are they behind that mirror watching us right now, but you know they’re recording every second of this.” Bucky’s blue eyes flit over to the mirror wall on his left and he scowls at it, as if he can see the horde of despicable men gathered behind it, just waiting for a glimpse of some action. “I don’t want there to be some video floating around one day where I’m just lying here beneath you in this bed, looking helpless while you just...I’ll be damned if I die down here and a video like that is the last anyone sees of me.”
Bucky wants to reassure you, to tell you that there’s no way in hell he’d let that be the last people see of you. But he knows reassurance isn’t what you need right now. You need to feel like you have some semblance of control over your situation. He can see how that third option you listed is the only way you can fathom feeling like you have that control. Fuck. Is this really what it’s come to?
“So, you want me to just…” His voice trails off, as if he’s scared to finish his sentence. The only thing you can think about is the way the fear doesn’t reach his eyes at all. There’s something else behind his blue irises, rimming his dark pupils as he stares back at you. It’s something so real that it causes a chill to spread along the surface of your skin, threatening to erupt into a tremble if you don’t tamp it down.
“Fuck me.” You say, your voice a little shaky but still sure. “Fuck me like it’s something you actually want to do, like it’s something you wanted to do long before we ended up here.”
Oh, you have no idea. You have no idea that it really is something he wanted to do long before you ended up here. You don’t have a fucking clue that Bucky has laid in bed more than one night in a row, listening across the hall as you get ready for bed. He’s waited until you’ve fallen asleep more times than he can count, before replaying a few key interactions with you in his head, letting his hand drift lower and lower down the front of his sweats until he wakes up the next morning full of shame. He looks you over carefully, from head to toe this time. His eyes rake over the shape of your body outlined beneath the white sheet, taking in every dip and curve in your form.
With the way he’s looking at you, studying you, it feels like the concrete bunker has suddenly warmed up by fifteen degrees. Your tongue darts out, wetting your bottom lip nervously as you await some kind of response from the man that you just practically begged to fuck you. Bucky’s eyes track the small movement, and he finds himself wanting to feel your tongue against his own. God, he’s going to feel so ashamed after this, isn’t he?
“You want me to fuck you.” He says slowly, bending forward at the waist until his hands come to rest on either side of your covered feet at the end of the bed. Your heart is beating out of your chest as he holds that position and looks into your eyes. He didn’t phrase it as a question, but it’s obvious he’s waiting for you to confirm it again. He isn’t going to a damn thing without confirmation. You nod quickly, swallowing hard and trying to look more sure of yourself than you’ve ever been. Bucky moves forward again, this time lifting one knee and placing it on the bed. Then the other, then the first leg moves again. He’s crawling over you in a way that has the entire atmosphere changing around you. It feels like the room is spinning, like the air is thinning out and the oxygen percentage is dropping dangerously low with every inch between you that’s lost.
“I need to hear you say it.” He speaks lowly as he hovers above you, dropping his head down so his nose brushes against your jawline while one of his knees moves between yours gently, nudging them apart just enough for him to fit comfortably against you.
“I want you to fuck me.” You answer breathlessly, letting your eyes flutter closed as his lips begin to ghost over your neck, moving closer and closer to your ear.
“Again.” He rasps, taking your earlobe between his teeth like he’s done it a million times before and knows it’ll get a reaction out of you. Your back arches in the slightest as he bites down on your earlobe softly, causing your covered chest to brush against his bare torso.
“I want you to fuck me, please.”
“That’s it.” The words rumble in his chest and you feel the vibration against your skin. Suddenly you resent the sheet that’s acting as a barrier between the two of you. “Just keep reminding me.” Bucky’s pressing his lips against the skin of your neck, right over the spot where he used his lips to check your heartbeat just one day ago. In one swift move, he’s tugging the sheet down and to the side, slipping himself beneath it letting the skin of his upper body collide with everywhere that yours is exposed. Instant relief floods through his body at the simple feeling of your warm skin against his. Whatever pain he was feeling is suddenly gone, diminished almost entirely. You’re all he needed. He positions one knee between your legs again, but a little higher this time, nearly letting it press against the fabric of your black panties.
“I want this.” You whisper, your tone laced with need. He drags his lips from your neck, over the curve of your jaw, and along your cheek until he’s hovering right over your mouth. He wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you more than he’s ever wanted anything, but he won’t. He decides that now, as he’s staring down at your lips, wishing he knew what it felt like to bite down on one of them, what it felt like to slip his tongue between them. If he kisses you, he won’t ever be able to listen to you speak again, to watch the way you tug that bottom lip between your teeth when you’re thinking hard. He won’t be able to look at you without wanting your lips all fucking over his own every second of every damn day. So, he won’t kiss you.
You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. As he hovers above you, his mouth just an inch away from yours, you’re expecting it. You’re a little disappointed when he dips his head to the side instead, dropping his forehead down toward your shoulder and nipping on the exposed skin there. But every trace of disappointment flees when he positions himself fully between your legs and grinds down, pressing the hardened front of his tactical pants against your clothed cunt with just the right amount of pressure.
“You want this?” He asks, scraping his teeth along your shoulder as he grinds against you in small circles. A tortured moan escapes you and you tug against the restraints, wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and pull him even closer. Your knees bend on either side of him but you resist the urge to entrap him with your legs around his waist. You won’t let yourself seem that desperate, that starved for his touch.
“Bucky.” His name leaves your lips as a sultry moan, and he stills instantly. Though he doesn’t pull away from you, he stops grinding entirely. He bites down on your shoulder, a little too hard, leaving a little red mark in the shape of his perfect teeth.
“You can’t do that.” He groans. He’s speaking so quietly that you doubt the cameras in the room will be able to pick up a word. You kind of like thinking that his words are only for you to hear. “You can’t say my name like that, not when they put this shit in my veins. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” You don’t really know why you’re so sure, but you are. He won’t hurt you.
“But I could.” He reminds you, slowly starting to grind his hips again. You can tell that your thin black panties are already soaked through with arousal. Can he feel it through his tactical pants? Can he smell how wet you are for him?
“But you won’t.” You say again. Bucky reaches beneath the sheet with his right hand and slides it under your bent knee, moving your leg out to the side to spread you even more and give himself a better angle. Another moan falls from your mouth and he feels his body temperature rising to a dangerous degree. You’re right, he won’t hurt you. He’d never, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t fear that not-so-distant part of him that was always so capable of inflicting bodily harm. Especially this week, with everything that’s happened. That part of him is so much closer to the surface than usual. He fears that any little thing could make him snap and the Winter Soldier will take over before he has a chance to force it back down to the depths he keeps it locked away in. “Look at me.” Your command is soft but stern, easily earning you Bucky’s attention. He stills his hips against yours and lifts his head from your shoulder, doing exactly what you want when he looks into your eyes. “I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t, not with this.” He argues, fighting the urge to drag the hardened length of his cock against your damp panties again. He’s starting to itch to get his tactical pants off, to remove some of the layers keeping him from fully feeling you.
“I do, and you can’t really change that. I trust you to do this.” He almost growls at your words, hating the power you’re giving him. It’s only making things harder for him, in more ways than one. “What’s so wrong about me saying that I trust you to fuck me?”
“Everything.” He’s grinding into you again, but more fervently this time. Your head presses back into the firm pillow behind you and the soft sigh you let out has Bucky’s cock twitching in its confines. “Everything’s wrong. You’re tied to a fucking bed, covered in bruises and cuts, with a chemical influencing every thought in your mind right now, and you’re telling me that you trust me to fuck you. Shit…” His voice trails off for a moment as he hitches one of your legs around his hips and drives down against you a little harder, needing so much more of you than he’s taking right now. “That same chemical is influencing me and you think I can control myself? Enough to keep from hurting you?”
Bucky lets his flesh hand slide up your waist beneath the covers, skipping over the curve of your breasts in an attempt to be respectful before traveling up the side of your neck. He grips your chin in that hand, holding your face still and forcing you to look at him.
“What makes you so sure I won’t hurt you?” He has to know. When you search his blue eyes, you find so many things. Need, lust, desperation. But you also find fear, apprehension, and doubt. He needs to be sure that you’re really and truly okay with this or he’ll never be able to live with himself after it’s done. That much, you’re sure of.
“Is this the first time you’ve ever thought about touching me?” Your question comes out as a whisper against his lips. His hips falter, but you aren’t going to let him stop this time. Keeping your leg hitched over his hip, you start grinding your hips upward, maintaining the pace he’d been setting. He narrows his eyes at you, his grip on your chin tightening for the quickest second before releasing. That same hand slides across your cheek, moves between your head and the pillow, and tangles tenderly in your hair.
“No.”
“Every other time you thought about it, did you ever imagine hurting me?”
“Not once.”
“If I told you that you were hurting me, would you stop?”
“Yes.” He breathes the word out with ease. He doesn't even need to think about it.
“Do you trust me to tell you if you’re hurting me?” The pause that ensues is loaded and the tension is almost crackling in the air around the bed. Bucky nods slowly, his eyes still narrowed and his hips still unmoving as you grind up against him yourself. “Then why do I feel like I have to beg for this right now?” A playful smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth and you know you’ve gotten through to him.
“You would beg?” He asks, the smirk taking full form now. He leans down and takes your earlobe in between his teeth just like he did moments ago, but instead of biting down, he sucks on it gently. He releases it from his mouth after a second and starts dragging the tip of his tongue up the shell of your ear.
“Is that what you want?” A tremble shakes your body as he lowers his full weight onto you.
“I’d love to hear it.” He admits, whispering his answer so only you catch the words. “But if you do that in front of the men behind that glass, I’ll cut their ears off and shove them down their fucking throats before I kill them. I try not to do shit like that anymore, so don’t force my hand.”
You’re reminded of the possibility that he might’ve killed someone for you last night, for talking inappropriately about you. You were unsure of it at first, but hearing Bucky talk this way makes it so much more believable. You’re stuck in your head when he rolls off of you, breaking the physical contact and leaving you both yearning for more. He’s lying beside you, tugging his tactical pants down and off in one swift move beneath the sheet, trying to figure how the hell he’s going to make it through this.
Nerves are bubbling up in your stomach as you start to question everything. This is all just the influence of the chemical coursing through your veins, like Bucky said. But if that’s true, why does it feel so real? He’s back on top of you in an instant, now with only his boxers and your panties creating space between the two of you.
“You get to have some control here too.” Bucky promises, sinking between your legs and placing his forearms on the bed on either side of your head. “If you want something, need something, tell me.” You nod just as he’s lowering his head down and attaching his lips to the column of your throat. The sweet combination of him kissing, licking, and sucking on your skin like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted has your back arching off the bed and your wrists fighting the restraints. What makes it even worse is the way his scruff combats the soothing actions of his mouth, leaving a light burn everywhere his face travels. You wish you could kiss him back the same way and show him how damn near insufferable it is to be the helpless one. “Are you sore from last night?” He asks as his flesh hand begins ghosting down your side. He traces the waistband of your panties with the tips of his fingers, back and forth slowly, teasing you as he waits for an answer.
“A little.” You rasp, your throat feeling dry and tight with the building anticipation. You swear he almost smirks at your answer. His hand slides beneath your waistband and you’re having flashbacks to the night before. The pain was worse than anything you’d ever felt but Bucky’s hands between your thighs was the perfect antidote. Just as a new wave of pain is beginning to shoot down your spine, Bucky drags his fingertips along your wet folds, teasing just outside of your entrance, before dragging them up to your clit and applying a firm pressure there. You gasp, pushing down into his hand as much as the restraints will allow as the pain in your back instantly subsides.
“That’s it.” He coos, taking in the way your pupils dilate at his touch. Your cheeks are flushed pink beneath him, and though he knows it’s mostly from the drug in your system, he can’t help the tiny bit of pride that swells in his chest. Bucky starts rubbing slow, steady circles against your clit, staying focused on your face the entire time. “There you go, just like last night.” He dips his middle and ring fingers downward until they’re threatening to slide inside of you, and you want nothing more than to buck against them, but you fight against the urge. Bucky notices your resistance and chuckles lowly, sliding his two fingers in to the first knuckle. “You wanted control, so take it. Don’t hold back on me.” He encourages, with his lips lowered down to your ear again.
With his words echoing in your head, you let your eyes fall closed and your head press back into the firm pillow as he starts slowly dragging his fingers in and out of you. In and out, in and out. He peppers your neck with kisses before sliding his fingers in as deep as he can, and then curling them against your walls on the way out, coaxing a sultry moan from you with ease. With every pretty sound Bucky earns from you, he’s one step closer to losing his shit. He hates that his resolve crumbles more and more every time you so much as take a breath beneath him. He hates even more that there’s probably a room full of men that get to hear and see you this way, that it’s not just for him.
Bucky can feel the effects of the drug growing stronger, sending repetitive pangs down his back and throughout his bones. He knows you must be feeling it too. It hasn’t reached its peak yet and he can only hope that what he’s about to do will be enough to keep that peak at bay for a while. His flesh hand continues on between your legs, with his middle and ring fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady rhythm and his palm applying pressure to your clit. He rolls slightly to his side and uses his vibranium hand to start tugging his boxers down. He’s pushing all thoughts out of his mind when you’re on the brink of your first orgasm. When it’s tearing through you, bringing stars into your vision and a rush of heat where his hand is connected to your clit, he’s watching as you bite down on your bottom lip and lose touch with reality. You look painstakingly beautiful this way, so fucked out and vulnerable in a way that should be reserved for his eyes only.
“Say my name.” He whispers, as your orgasm ravages your body. Before you even have a moment to think, his name is rolling off of your tongue and filling the concrete room. He feels like some kind of two-pump chump now, having to bite the inside of his cheek and damn near draw blood just to hold off his own orgasm. Precum coats the tip of his hard cock, threatening to drip onto your bare thigh if he doesn’t hurry up and do something about it. As your orgasm tapers off and aftershocks begin to work through your muscles, Bucky draws his flesh hand out from between your legs and hooks his index finger in the wet fabric covering your pussy. You’re barely recovered from the first orgasm when you feel him tugging your panties to the side and pressing the shaft of his cock against your wet cunt.
“Shit, Bucky, let me catch my breath.” You pant, but the feel of his hard length gliding back and forth between your legs already has you wanting more. It has you wanting everything.
“Catch it.” He encourages you, pressing his lips against your cheek in a chaste kiss. “But there isn’t really much sense in that when you’re just going to lose it again as soon as I start fucking you.” He has a point. You focus in on the way he’s grinding against you, dragging himself against your arousal-slickened clit from balls to tip repeatedly, but slowly. You don’t have to see him to know he’s well-endowed, and that scares you a little.
“It’s…it might not fit.” You whisper. Concern is etched in your features as you blink your eyes at meet his gaze head-on.
“It’ll fit.” He assures you. With another drag of his hips, the tip of his cock is brushing against your entrance before sliding right back up to your clit. He’s teasing you, teasing himself.
“It’s been a long time for me.” You admit. A soft blush colors your cheeks as he slows his hips to a stop and drops his head to your shoulder. You feel him sigh against the bare skin there and for a second, you fear you’ve said something wrong. Should you not have told him that? Does it make you seem weak? Afraid?
Bucky’s really struggling to hold himself back. He wants to grab the backs of your thighs, push your knees up toward your chest, and sheath himself within you so fucking hard and fast that you don’t remember what it’s like not to have all of him inside you. And now knowing that you haven’t been with another man in so long? It almost makes him giddy. He almost wishes you’d said you’d never been with another man, but that’s unrealistic, considering you’ve probably had a greater number of men begging at your heels than the number of men he’s killed over the years.
“What’s your favorite color?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. Bucky reaches down between your bodies with his flesh hand and wraps it around his shaft, stroking up and down slowly and carefully as he kisses your shoulder. God, even your skin tastes good.
“It changes all the time.” You answer, just as he’s using his hand to line himself up at your entrance. Your eyes scrunch closed in anticipation, knowing his size is going to be more than enough to cause a bit of pain.
“When I get you out of here, what’s the first thing you want to eat?” He drops more of his weight onto you, letting the head of his cock press much more firmly against your entrance. You feel it slide in just barely, so slowly that you’re unsure if it’s even moving forward.
“Whatever I can get my hands on.” You can’t think straight enough to come up with any specific answers, but he doesn’t care. He’s just trying to distract you enough so that you don’t focus completely on the stretch of him sliding inside you for the first time. He pushes his hips in a little more, feeling your cunt start to draw him in. So fucking tight. He groans lowly, needily, and nips at your shoulder.
“Do you remember that solo op you had in the club?” Bucky shouldn’t be getting so real, but as he sinks his cock into you inch-by-inch, his mind is drifting into dangerous territory. He’s starting to feel a little too animalistic with the way your cunt is practically weeping for him, begging him to go further. Bucky feels you nod and he pulls back from your shoulder, bracing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head again. He peers down at you just as his cock is reaching the halfway point within you. A loud moan escapes you as the stretch grows to be a little too much to bear. “I couldn’t stand to see that guy with his hands all over your ass.” He confesses. Suddenly, the burning pain his cock is causing you dampens significantly. You’re staring up at him, your lips parted as panting breaths fall from them, as his hands slide over the pillow to smooth out your hair.
“You barely even knew me.”
“I still barely know you.” He points out, giving you another inch, breeching that halfway point. Though your cunt is greedily pulling him in, he still feels the resistance within your tight walls. You weren’t lying when you said it had been a while for you. “But that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t like him touching you.”
“Bend one of my knees up, around your hip like you did before.” You whimper the request as he nearly bottoms out inside you. You know that angle will make it a little easier to take such an impressively sized cock. Bucky’s quick to comply, gripping your left thigh and crooking your leg over his hip. He holds it there with his flesh palm pressed flat against your skin and his fingertips digging into the back of your knee. There it is. With one gentle thrust, he’s balls deep inside of you and frozen in place.
Bucky imagines that this is what it would feel like if he had the privilege of going to heaven. Hell, just being buried inside of you like this, feeling your chest heaving beneath him and your back slightly arching off the bed is enough to kill him and send him there right now. He holds himself still, wanting to give you a chance to adjust while also giving himself time to calm down so he doesn’t start filling you up before he’s even really fucked you. It’s a feat, trying not to blow his load so soon with the way your pussy is gripping the entirety of his length. He feels your breathing slow and after one deep inhale, you relax beneath him.
“Good girl.” The pet name rolls off of his tongue the moment he feels you relax. Suddenly, you’re tense again, and one moan from you has him dragging his hips backward and pulling his cock halfway out. You scream his name as your wrists tug hard on the restraints, threatening to break the ropes. He hated hearing you scream last night, but this is different. Hearing you scream his name this way makes him fucking feral. He snaps his hips forward, thrusting into you so hard that all you can do is cry his name out over and over. “And you didn’t think you could take me.” He says lowly. He starts to set a steady rhythm with his thrusts, in and out, in and out. He alternates between pulling his length halfway out and occasionally pulling it almost completely out before slamming it back into you a little harder each time. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours beneath the sheets fills the room, echoing off of the concrete walls and surely reaching whatever audio recording devices are around.
“This shouldn’t feel so good.” You groan, bending your right knee and hooking it around Bucky’s hip to match your other one. The new angle gives him access to go even deeper and with every thrust, you feel yourself dripping all over him and the sheets beneath.
“Yeah? It feels good, huh?” He punctuates his question with a particularly deep thrust and you cry out again, struggling against the restraints. “If you weren’t tied up like this I’d have you on all fours right now.” That’s it, the drug has to be peaking for him to be talking like that. You have no doubt. “I’d be watching you take every fucking inch of me over and over.”
“Stop saying shit like that.” You need him to stop talking, because if he doesn’t, HYDRA is going to have one fucking loud sex tape on their hands. Dirty talk is a weakness of yours, and every time Bucky speaks your moans are growing louder and even more filthy sounding.
“Just keep taking my cock.” Bucky groans out, as if you have much of a choice in the matter. You know you do, but with the way you’re feeling, your body wouldn’t give you one. You think your body might actually implode if you stopped taking his cock right now. “You’re doing so good for me.” He reaches that specific spot inside you, one that men have rarely reached before, and it has your toes curling and your lungs gasping for air.
“Right there, oh my god, right there.” You whimper, straining just to get the words out whole. If he didn’t already know how pretty you sound when you’re close to an orgasm, he’d be scared he was hurting you. The tension in your voice, the gasping breaths you keep taking when he bottoms out inside you, and the way you keep trying to twist out of those damn restraints could easily be mistaken as the actions of a girl in pain. But Bucky knows you. You’re going to cum on his cock.
“If you’re ready to…fuck, baby.” Bucky grunts, fisting a hand in the hair at the back of your head and driving his cock into you impossibly harder. “If you’re ready to cum, just let go.”
“You first.” You say through gritted teeth. He chuckles, though you can tell his resolve is steadily slipping.
“Oh no, sweetheart, that’s not how this works.” His tone is almost condescending and if he wasn’t giving you greater pleasure than you’ve ever known right now, you might tell him to fuck off. “You’re going to cum on my cock, and I’m going to fuck you through your orgasm.”
“What happened to you get to have some control here too?” You ask, repeating his earlier words back to him as he continues rutting into you at a devilish pace and depth.
“I found out how good it feels to have you wrapped around my cock and I got greedy.” He responds, looking and sounding wholly serious. The most pathetic sounding whimper erupts from your chest as he pulls all the way out and slams back into you, almost too roughly for you to handle, but it feels so damn good. It’s like he somehow knows exactly how much you can take, and he pushes that limit just enough to blow your mind. “I’m going to do that one more time, and you’re going to cum on my cock.” It’s not a question. It’s a command. Knowing this is a fight you won’t be winning, you nod desperately and tighten your legs around his waist. He pulls fully out of you one more time, leans down and presses a kiss right at the corner of your mouth, and then snaps his hips forward. He buries himself to the hilt and starts grinding his hips into yours in circles, gifting you a type of pleasure that you’ve never felt in your life. As your orgasm washes over you and your pussy clamps down on his cock, threatening to hold it hostage inside of you indefinitely, you can’t help but feel a little sad. Your back arches off the bed and his fingers curl against the back of your scalp as a needy growl climbs up his throat, as he tries hard to fuck your unrelentingly tight pussy. Your heart aches with the thought that you won’t ever get to feel this again, that he’s just ruined you for every other man out there. Fuck him.
Fuck Bucky Barnes.
Bucky’s a mess in more ways than one as he presses his forehead against yours and his thrusts grow sloppy and lose rhythm. With one final deep thrust, his balls are flush against your ass and he’s cumming so deep inside you that he fears he’ll be giving HYDRA exactly what they want. He only feels a fleeting moment of relief before a sickening feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. He only got to have you this way, to experience you like this, at the hand of the organization that ruined his life. As much as he enjoyed it, and he thoroughly enjoyed it, it feels like it’s tainted. Shaking the negativity from his mind, he slowly starts to pull out of you, watching your face with concern as you wince.
“Did I hurt you?” He questions softly, peering beneath the sheet. He doesn’t see any blood on his cock, thankfully. He never would’ve forgiven himself if he drew blood from your sweet little cunt. You murmur a nearly silent no as his eyes fall on the white stream of his cum dripping out of you. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. She’s had enough.
Bucky slips two fingers between your folds, gently circling your clit twice before dragging them down and scooping up his cum. He fucks it back into you as tenderly as he can, with his brows pinched together in concentration. You lay there and take the moment in. It feels possessive. Though you’re sure everything that just went down only happened because HYDRA mandated it, something about the way he’s looking at you and making sure even a single drop of his cum isn’t wasted on the bedsheets has you biting down on your bottom lip. This right here feels like it’s real, like it’s just you and Bucky. You decide to cling to that feeling to keep from descending into a pit of shame and sadness.
“Should we take him back to his cell now?” One of the guards asks. He stands tall beside the two-way mirror with his hands on his hips as he stares at the scene before him. He studies the super soldier, who looks so normal and humane lying next to you in bed. It’s difficult to look at him and imagine the Winter Soldier that the guard has heard so much about over the years. This man seems so different than the gory tales. As Bucky brushes your hair away from your face and rolls over to the side, the guard wonders just how far removed this man is from the legendary assassin.
“No, leave them together. The drug will peak again in a couple of hours, I want to see how they handle it a second time.”
“But we were told that—”
“I said leave them together.”
You wake suddenly, disoriented and in a cold sweat. Your shoulders ache something fierce and when you try to roll over onto your side to figure out where the hell you are and why it’s so dark, you find your wrists tied to the corners of the bed. Shit. You know exactly where you are now. When did the lights get turned off? When did you even fall asleep? God, it’s just like last night, when Bucky fingered you to two orgasms and then you woke up hours later with no recollection of the events that occurred after the last bit of pleasure you felt. The soreness between your thighs and wetness seeping into the fabric of your panties is the only reminder you need of what happened earlier.
You had sex with Bucky Barnes. Panic begins to set in and you start tugging against the restraints hard enough to break your skin, hard enough to draw blood. You don’t even realize that Bucky’s in bed next to you until you feel the mattress shift beneath you and hear his raspy voice break through the thoughts swirling around your head.
“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He speaks to you softly, but sits up quickly and places both of his hands against the skin of your shoulders. You focus in on the contrast between his cool vibranium hand and warm flesh palm. “Just breathe.”
Even in the dark of night, Bucky can see the thin trail of blood dripping down your arms, threatening to stain the white sheets beneath you. He thinks quickly, refusing to sacrifice the only piece of material fully covering you from HYDRA’s view. Bucky slides his flesh hand behind your head, curling his fingers in your hair and lifting up slightly so he can tug the pillow out from under you. Within two seconds, he has the pillow back under your head and is using the pillowcase to soak up the blood on each of your forearms. She stays in restraints. Bucky can hear the rule repeating in his mind, even as his fingers trail over rope cutting into the skin of your left wrist. If he squints, he can make out the bruises that have already formed from how tight they are and how hard you’ve been fighting against them tonight. He follows the length of the rope with his index finger, noting where it’s attached near the upper corner of the bed, to a metal loop bolted into the concrete wall. Fuck HYDRA. With one solid tug, the metal loop is flying out of the now cracked concrete wall. Relief takes over your features and your breathing begins to slow as Bucky grabs your wrist and moves your arm to your chest. He does the same thing to the metal loop on the other side, and then brings that sore arm in closer to your body as well.
He stays close to your side, hovering over you protectively, waiting to see if anyone is going to burst through the door and whisk him away for breaking a rule. A few silent seconds pass and he starts to relax. When he focuses on your face again, you’re looking up at him, studying him closely.
“What?” He asks, watching as you alternate between rubbing each of your wrists. Bucky lets himself fall back into bed beside you, switching to staring up at the ceiling instead of at your face. The drug hasn’t worn off yet and when he looks into your eyes, he’s reminded of what he did to you just a short time ago. It makes his dick throb in the worst way. He reaches down beneath the sheet and adjusts himself in his boxers, letting out a frustrated sigh.
“I don’t think you were supposed to do that.” You whisper back. You maneuver the lengths of rope around so that they’re in a pile beside you on the edge of the bed. You wish you had a way to cut them off entirely, but still, this is so much better than how it was before.
“I’ve done a lot of things I wasn’t supposed to do tonight.” The guilt is evident in his tone and it feels like a literal punch to the gut when you hear it. You want to reach over and grab his hand, to tell him that he did what had to be done and you don’t resent him for it, but you stay still. You can feel his body heat radiating and seeping into your exposed skin with how close the two of you are.
“I’m sorry.” Why the hell are you sorry? None of this is your fault, yet you’re apologizing. Anger flares in Bucky’s chest and he sits up abruptly, turning away from you and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He assumes a sitting position, with his hands gripping the edge of the mattress and his head hanging low.
“Don’t do that.” He says through gritted teeth. When he glances up, he sees his reflection in the mirrored wall. He can see his own heaving chest, his rippling abs, and his tensed flesh bicep, all of those things coming together to give off a vibe that says fuck off.
“Do what?” You ask apprehensively, moving to sit up in bed as well. You keep the sheet draped over your lap but turn your body to peer over Bucky’s shoulder, catching his gaze in the mirror. His stare burns you up, and you quickly avert your line of sight, choosing to stare at the tense muscles of his bare back instead.
“Apologize.” Bucky responds stiffly, screwing his eyes shut and inhaling deeply. He doesn’t want to risk seeing you in the reflection, not when the drug seems to be gearing up for a round two within his bloodstream. The room is starting to feel too small and too hot around him. “You know you didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t apologize.”
“I feel like I did something wrong.” He doesn’t like hearing you so unsure, it doesn’t suit you. “I shouldn’t have asked you to fuck me like that earlier, I should’ve just—”
“Should’ve what? Said no and waited around for them to bring in someone who wouldn’t care if you wanted it or not?” He can hear the sound of his vibranium arm whirring as he squeezes down on the mattress a little harder just at the thought of you with someone else, specifically with someone who doesn’t give a shit about you. “You needed to feel like you had control over the situation, so you asked me to do it and…” His voice trails off, the rest of his sentence lost in the dark room.
“Right, I asked you to do it.” You repeat his phrasing slowly. “So, why does it seem like you feel guilty?”
“Because I do.” He grumbles, dropping his chin down to his chest again and breaking the staring contest he was having with himself in the mirror.
“Why?” You press on, needing some kind of explanation. What could he possibly have to feel guilty for? He did what you asked, and only what you asked of him. He didn’t take it too far, he didn’t take advantage of you in any way. Bucky doesn’t answer. How does he even begin to explain why he feels guilty? Should he say that he feels guilty because it’s his fault that HYDRA targeted you in the first place? Should he say that it’s because he should’ve found a way to get you out of here long before they ever tied you to a bed and made him touch you?
You watch the toned muscles of his back tense more and more in the dark. You notice the way his flesh bicep flexes and his vibranium one whirs louder with each passing second. You were the one panicking a moment ago, floundering in the dark before Bucky reached out and comforted you. Now it’s your turn to comfort him. You reach out a cautious hand, watching as the rope drags along the bed. When your palm collides with the skin of Bucky’s back, you feel him tense even more and freeze, as if he’s holding in a breath. You peek over his shoulder into the mirror as you push your hand firmly against him and start to drag it down toward his lower back. He doesn’t so much as lift his eyes to meet your gaze, and you take that as good sign. You shuffle forward on your knees, moving to sit right behind him with your thighs on either side of his hips and your chest close to his back.
“What are you doing?” He asks lowly, keeping his head and eyes cast downward but sensing your movements. You continue to drag your right hand down until it’s nearing the waistband of his boxers. You’re trying not to think as you then turn your hand and slide your palm around his side and start feeling over the ridges of his abs. Your front is pressed flush against his back now and instead of pulling away, you swear you feel him lean into you the tiniest bit.
“Stop talking.” You whisper back, moving your left hand beneath his vibranium arm and around his torso to meet your right hand over his abs. When Bucky feels your hands still and your chin pressing down on his right shoulder, he finally tilts his head up and steals a glance at your collective reflection. Shit. He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his cock just from the way you’re wrapped around him and looking into his eyes.
Bucky starts peeling your hands away from his skin slowly, moving them away from his torso before pushing off the bed and rising to his feet. Rejection stings. You stay right where you are, resting on your knees with your legs slightly spread, facing the mirror. You watch the man before you as he runs a hand through his already tussled hair and turns around to look at you.
He can’t stand it. When he sees you sitting like that, looking up at him with such a gentle expression on your face, his cock twitches within the confines of his boxers.
“Shit.” He groans, quickly turning away from you and scrunching his eyes shut. “You have to stop looking at me like that.” Realization dawns on you as your eyes land on the bulge behind the black fabric of the only item of clothing he has on.
“Bucky—”
“Don’t.” He’s speaking through gritted teeth again, and with your current view of his side profile you can see the muscle of his jaw ticking. “Don’t say my name.”
“You liked hearing me say it earlier.” His eyes are back on you in an instant as a playful smirk threatens to spread across your lips. There’s a flashing image of those same lips gracing the shaft of his cock, but he shakes it out of his head as suddenly as it appeared. “What’s different now?”
“They only needed us to fuck once.” Bucky points out, continuing to stare at the concrete wall. “We don’t have to do this a second time. You let your eyes roam over his body, taking in every detail you can make out in the dark room. It’s not over for him. The drug hasn’t cleared his system, and if anything, it looks as if it’s having an even stronger effect on him than before. Yet, for you, it’s dampened. You’re a little warm and you feel a bit of an adrenaline rush, but no waves of pain or agony are ripping through you right now. Your suspicion is confirmed when Bucky reaches up and grips his flesh shoulder with his vibranium hand, squeezing it as though his trapezius muscle is cramping up.
“You’re in pain.” You say quietly, analyzing the way he reacts to your observation. He drops his hand from his shoulder and takes in a shaky breath before turning his head to make eye contact with you.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not a very good liar.” He scoffs at your insult, reaching up to rub his shoulder again. You’re right. His shoulders are starting to feel like he’s been holding two-ton weights for hours and his back has been aching ever since he stood up from the bed and refused your touch. “Let me help you.”
“You really want another round on camera for HYDRA? The first one wasn’t enough?” He spits the words out like venom, like you chose to give the enemy a sex tape. Anger surges within you and you cross your arms over your chest. Bucky’s eyes flit down, settling on your suddenly accentuated breasts as they threaten to spill over the top of your sports bra.
“You’d rather them have footage of you cowering in the corner with a hard-on? Looking like a beaten down puppy?” He scowls, lifting his eyes from your chest to focus on your face.
“I’d rather not take advantage of you twice.” His expression is serious as he speaks.
“You didn’t take advantage the first time.” You argue. He stares at you with narrowed eyes and a fiery look behind his eyes. You can’t tell who he hates more right now, you or himself. “Stop looking at me like you want to kill me.” Your demand causes him to falter momentarily, his stern look and narrowed eyes shifting to a confused expression. Kill you? He wants nothing more than to either fuck you six ways to Sunday or get as far away from you as possible, he’d take either option right now. But killing you? It’s almost laughable that you’d think that’s what’s going through his head right now.
“If I wanted to kill you—”
“I’d already be dead, right? Save the tough guy shit for someone else, that line is really overused.” You’re dismissive now, moving to sit with your legs crisscrossed in front of you, still facing a very on-edge Bucky Barnes. His eyes glaze over as he takes in the sight of your legs against the white sheets. He knows exactly what those legs feel like in his hands, hooked around his hips, wrapped around his lower half. Fuck.
You watch as a million thoughts seem to be running rampant through Bucky’s mind. Seeing the way his eyes dart around and his tongue sticks out to wet his bottom lip makes it seem like he might actually be hearing voices or something. He clenches his fists and then unclenches them. He turns away from you and the bed, choosing to stare at the concrete wall for a few seconds before turning to the mirror and contemplating shattering it with the flick of his wrist. He turns away from the mirror and faces the only door in the room. There isn’t even a handle or keypad on the inside, there’s no way out of it unless he punches through the fucking concrete wall. He could do that, probably with even less effort that he imagines, but what would that get him? He might end up back in his own concrete cell, which is what he really needs right now, but what would happen to you? They’d find someone else to do what Bucky’s currently refusing to do. He clenches his teeth so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if he heard every single one of his molars crack under the pressure.
“Does it hurt?” It’s as if a time machine has suddenly appeared and is sucking Bucky into a swirling vortex, dragging him back in time. The trigger being the question that’s just left your lips in such a soft whisper. You asked it just like you did the first time, the first time in the gym showers when you caught Bucky so off-guard that he thought about you for days.
“Does what hurt?” He asks, remembering every single moment of that little conversation as if it was a script. Him remembering and repeating his line in such a slow, hushed way is what has warmth spreading beneath the surface of your skin. He listens to the rustling of the bedsheets as you push yourself off the mattress. He listens to the sounds of your ropes dragging across the floor as you make your way across the room, drawing nearer and nearer to him and effectively sucking all of the air out of his lungs as you do so. Your fingertips, so gentle and soft, dance across the scars where his vibranium arm meets his flesh. His eyes close tightly as you drag those fingertips down over his shoulder blade, and then further over to the right to trace his spine. Down, down, down you drag those fingertips, until he’s shuddering beneath your touch and all he wants to do it turn around and face you. Your fingers still right above the waistband of his boxers, and that’s when he decides to make a move.
Bucky turns around as your hand falls away from him, and he finds himself only a couple of inches away from you. His mind is screaming at him to close the gap, to wrap his arms around you and eliminate the space between your bodies. But the memory of that night in the gym showers tugs at him even more than that resonating mental scream. A shiver runs down your spine as Bucky lifts his flesh hand to your face. He traces the curve of your jaw, from your right earlobe down to your chin with his index finger. His touch is so light and careful, so calculated and thoughtful as he meets your burning gaze. Your breath hitches in your throat when he starts trailing that same finger down, over the front of your neck and straight to the notch between your collarbones. His eyes follow the movement of his finger, setting your skin on fire with the combination of his touch and his watchful scrutiny.
“You’re not wearing your necklace”. That’s what he said next that night, when he didn’t want to answer your question about his scars. It’s true again now. As his eyes settle on your chest, that little necklace with the built-in panic button is notably absent. Though you know that you could keep carrying on the little charade, that you could keep reading off of the script that you both seem to have memorized, your gaze falls to his chest. You study the silver chain hanging from his neck, following it down until you zero in on the two metal plates resting over his sternum. He lets his hand fall away from your neck as you reach up and hook a finger around the chain of his dog tags.
“Give me yours.”
There’s no more hesitation or apprehension when Bucky rushes forward, letting both of his hands capture the sides of your face and guide you in to meet him. He wasn’t planning on kissing you. In fact, he was specifically avoiding doing exactly that. He feels every nerve, every sensory receptor in his body firing at once when his lips press against yours. It’s like the fourth of fucking July beneath his skin as you part your lips to let his tongue delve into your mouth. You’re stumbling backward in an instant as Bucky begins taking steps forward, moving you in the general direction of the bed. He kisses you harder and harder with every step he takes, surely leaving your lips pink and your nose a rosy shade of red. You don’t even get a chance to break for breath until you feel the edge of the mattress hitting the backs of your knees. Your hands move to his abs and you push against the firm muscles there, fighting for balance so you won’t go crashing onto the bed.
As Bucky pulls back, keeping his hands on the sides of your face and his gaze trained on your widened eyes, he realizes that he’s been fighting a losing battle not only with the drug coursing through his veins, but with you as well. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re having the same realization. He’s tugging the dog tags from his neck without giving the action a second thought. When he stands before you, with the silver chain clutched in his flesh fist and the two metal tags suspended in the air, it feels as though all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.
“If I let you wear these…” Bucky takes a deep breath in and shifts his gaze to the decades-old dog tags in his hand. “You don’t take them off until you have your necklace back.” He looks to your face, waiting for any sort of confirmation. You nod slowly, not even thinking about his request. You’ll do it. You’d do anything he asked of you right now with the way he’s looking at you, with the way he just kissed you. He slips the cool chain over your head gently, ensuring it doesn’t get tangled in your hair as he settles it around your neck.
Seeing his name around your neck awakens something feral, something so fucking primal inside of him. Bucky bites down on his bottom lip as you reach up with your right hand and grasp the tags, running a thumb over the indentation of his name.
“Bucky.” Your voice is always a little different when it’s his name being spoken. He can’t quite describe in what way it’s different, but it always does something to him. He bites down on his bottom lip a little harder and lets his hands move to your waist, smoothing over your skin and tugging you forward against him. “Let me take advantage of you.” Every single muscle in his body stops working, all except for his heart. He can’t even fucking swallow as his heart beats against his ribcage like it’s gone into overdrive. He’s sure even you can feel the rapid thrumming of it, vibrating against your own chest with how close he’s holding you to himself. If you can’t feel that, you can sure as hell feel the outline of his hard cock pressing against your lower stomach right now. He sees nothing but sincerity and lust written across your face and swirling around in the color of your eyes. So, he responds with the only sentence his brain can come up with.
“Take advantage of me.”
Though things happen so quickly, HYDRA’s cameras capture everything. When the two of you fall backwards into bed, the man observing you both from behind the two-way mirror is on the edge of his seat. Out of all of the ways the second round could’ve started, he didn’t expect it to start quite like this. He watches with his mouth hung open as the Winter Soldier presses you impossibly further into the mattress, kissing you with a fervency not many people have had the privilege of experiencing before. The man pushes out of his chair and moves to stand closer to the mirror when Bucky starts rutting against you, grinding himself between your legs in a desperate attempt to find relief. But when you hook a leg over Bucky’s hips and skillfully flip positions so that he’s on his back and you’re straddling his lap, with the flimsy bed creaking beneath you both, the man behind the mirror is truly shocked. This isn’t what he expected at all. He nearly put a stop to things the moment Bucky ripped your restraints out of the wall, but seeing this now, he’s glad he didn’t. Hell, if HYDRA doesn’t get the stem cell experimentation capabilities that they want out of tonight, they could get a big payday with the video footage of this alone.
Covering up with the sheet doesn’t cross either of your minds as you hook a finger in Bucky’s waistband and start pulling his boxers down his thighs. You only pull them down enough to free his dick, and watching it spring up toward his stomach is enough to have you wanting the boxers on the damn floor. But still, you won’t go that far, not here. You don’t give yourself much time to admire his impressive length as you wrap your hand around it and start stroking from base to tip, spreading his precum along the shaft. Bucky’s lost in the feeling, so lost that he doesn’t even realize how many times your name has fallen from his lips, and you’re not even fucking his cock yet. When he groans your name in an especially needy way, you’re already tugging your panties to the side and pressing your wet cunt against his shaft, dragging your hips back and forth in quick succession.
“Shit.” Bucky groans lowly, gripping your hips with both hands and pulling you down harder against him. “Just like that.” He learned yesterday just how far encouragement goes in getting you off. You grind against him like that, alternating between quick movements with your hips and slow, lazy circles, until you can’t stand it anymore. You feel empty and your pussy is aching for him. His face is contorted with pleasure and his eyes are screwed shut, but you can read him well enough to know that he needs more too. Your gaze travels down to where you’re seated against the shaft of his cock, noting the way the head of it glistens with a mix of his precum and your arousal. God, it’s such a sight. Your head is swirling with dangerously horny thoughts as you lift your hips and wrap your hand around his length once more. Giving it a few strokes, you line it up with your entrance.
“Don’t hurt yourself.” Bucky warns, watching you with narrowed eyes and a slightly concerned look on his face. You know you should listen to him and take it slow. He’s so big and as if his length wasn’t enough, his girth alone could take a girl out entirely. You laugh softly, thinking about how he was telling you take his cock just a couple of hours ago. You sink down, taking the tip in painfully slowly, focusing on the burning pain as your walls stretch to accommodate him. Then, just to spite him, you sit down on the entirety of his cock all at once, crying out at the mix of pain and pleasure. “Fuck, what did I just say?” Bucky groans out, digging his fingers into the skin of your waist as he tries to lift you back up. You fight against him, staying seated on his cock as tears form in your eyes. “Get off, it’s too much for you.”
“No.” You say defiantly, willing the muscles tightening around his length to relax as much as they can. With each passing second, it burns less and begins to feel more tolerable, more enjoyable. “I can take it like this.”
He’s going to lose his shit. Bucky’s seconds from either cumming so hard that it’ll be spilling out of you for days or picking you up, pressing your back against one of the concrete walls, and fucking you until you can’t even take a breath without feeling the ghost of him inside you. He watches through hooded eyes as you start circling your hips, as you let your head fall back and your hands brace against his bare chest. He catches sight of his name draped around your neck, hanging between your breasts, marking you as his and he can’t help himself. He thrusts upward just once, feeling you clench around him and memorizing the pretty sound that erupts from your chest. Again. He needs to feel and hear that again. So, he thrusts a second time. Then a third. Then, he’s meeting every bounce of your hips with one of his own.
“That’s it, take advantage of my cock.” He coos, matching your pace as your fingers curl against his chest and leave red marks in their wake. He wants more of you, he wants you closer. His eyes land on the ropes still tied around your wrists, and without thinking, he’s moving his hands from your waist and gripping one rope in each palm. He tugs on them hard, pulling you down abruptly so you fall against his chest. You’re skin to skin now, with his cock buried so deep inside of you that you think your pussy might be molding to the shape of it with each passing second. “Do you have any idea how good this feels for me?” He whispers the question against the skin of your neck, pressing his lips to your pulse point right after he’s spoken. “Do you have any idea how perfectly your tight little cunt wraps around my cock? How badly it makes me want to cum?” The volume of your moan would be almost embarrassing if everything he was doing and saying didn’t make you feel an unmatchable level of pure bliss.
“Please,” you plead through panting breaths, working hard to keep bouncing your hips in your current position. “Please cum inside me again, Bucky.” You sound desperate but don’t give a single fuck. “It felt so good the first time.”
“Fuck, you need it, don’t you?” He asks, thrusting up into you a little harder and sliding his hands down your sides. He grips your ass with both hands and puts even more force behind each upward snap of his hips. The sounds in the room are obscene and borderline pornographic as he fucks you senseless. “Whose name is around your neck right now?”
“Yours.” You cry out, dropping your head to his half flesh-half vibranium shoulder. His right hand disappears from your ass, but only before a second before it’s slapping back down with a resounding smack, earning him a gasp and arched back from you.
“Say it.” He orders, massaging his palm against your reddening ass cheek. You scream his name out only a moment later, as your orgasm is turning your brain to mush and your pussy to a fucking ravine. You’re barely aware when he rolls you over and starts fucking you into the mattress like his life depends on it. You feel the warm gush of his cum filling you up, the few sloppy final thrusts as he empties himself entirely, and then the weight of his body collapsing on top of yours. The only thing your brain seems to be thinking about is how deeply fucked you are. You’ve never been more sure of anything than you are of this, right now: Bucky’s gotten so far under your skin that you won’t be able to shake him when all of this is over.
You’re fast asleep beside him when the world tilts on its axis. When the explosion happens, Bucky doesn’t even have a moment to reach over and grab you, to pull you to his chest and try to protect you from the rain of concrete and debris. He can only watch as you’re thrown violently against the far wall, crashing against the concrete with a silent thud as a sharp ringing sound takes over Bucky’s hearing. He’s tossed in the opposite direction, feeling every little cut and rip of his skin as his body is cast through the two-way mirror on the other wall. It’s the last thing he remembers before blacking out, that he didn’t protect you when everything came crashing down.
“I’ve got something over here!” A deep male voice calls out. It’s grating to your ears, almost like nails on a chalkboard. Everything sounds too far away yet too close at the same time, and your head is throbbing in the worst way. You want to yell out and tell everyone to be quiet, to let you sleep a little longer. Something tugs against your neck, and you want to reach out and swat away whoever is nearby, but you find yourself too weak to even move your arms. Your eyes remain closed and your body remains still. You just want a little more sleep. “Dog tags!”
“Is it Bucky?” A second voice sounds, this one a little higher pitched and quieter. You try to blink your eyes open at the familiar name, but it feels like they’re covered in sand and it burns the second your eyelashes flutter, so you stop. Swallowing thickly, a cough creeps up your throat and barely manages to scrape past your lips.
“No, no it’s…” That’s when you feel a warm hand wrap around your own, intertwining its fingers with yours and squeezing once. “It’s her. I think she’s alive. We’ve got her.”
“Someone get a medic crew down here now!” The higher pitched voice grows louder and your head throbs more intensely. If everyone would just take it down a notch you could get a little more rest. “Let Fury know she’s coming home.”
Home. The word sends a fuzzy feeling, something like relief maybe, buzzing through your mostly numb body. You’re going home.
BONUS PART (will be linked here June 7th, 2024)
TAG LIST:
@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @valenftcrush @andrometda @sillysillygoose444 @gracescor3 @hellsenthero @mistressmkay @shortnloud @stellarburritos @hazbin-h0etel @mostlymarvelgirl @lesleurs @lillianacristina @frombkjar @witch-lemon @edelweissbarnes @glowstickfluid01 @its-daydreamer23 @sadiechar @hallecarey1 @hhiggs @steeph-aniie @lilipiggytails @ladyvenera @theallknown213
#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#the winter soldier#winter soldier#sex pollen
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nah cause all i can think abt it rafe being an absolute DICKHEAD to everyone but you. like he 180 changes when ur around and it completely baffles everyone.
OOOOH yes. everyone tellin you “he’s a dickhead, I don’t get why you’re with him.” And youre like “wdym? he’s the sweetest boy ever.” because you nd him and literally like this everyday
his friends hate it sm. I imagine it would go something like this
🪷 ꪆৎ 🕊️‧₊˚♡︎
Everywhere Rafe went, you followed. His friends never had the balls to say anything and just let it happen.
At parties, he was drinking and leaning in his chair, talking to Barry, who currently smoked a joint. A man sat in front of them, offering them an amount of money for the gold from the cross.
Rafe shook his head at the offer.
“That all?” Rafe asked him, unamused.
“I mean,” the dude scoffed. “How much would you take for it?”
“This bar is at least 5 grand. If you don’t got the money, fuckin’ stop wasting my time.”
“How is that five grand?”
Rafe rolled his eyes, irritated as he shut the case the gold was kept it. “Yo, what the fuck did I just say? Stop wasting my time. Get the fuck out.” He nodded, the man scoffing and shaking his head, standing up and walking away.
Rafe seemed irritated, his eyebrows furrowed and his face rested in an annoyed expression. That was until he glanced up and saw you walking towards him.
The man that had tried to buy the gold pushed past you, making you furrow your eyebrows at his rudeness.
Rafe had seen it, his irritation and anger bubbling once again. You just shrugged it off as you continued your stride to your boyfriend.
And he saw your bubbly demeanor, bouncing around happily as you walked towards him with the sweetest smile. He melted, the corners of his lips twisting up to form a smile. You fell into his lap, clearly drunk as you slurred out his name happily, hiding your face in his shoulder.
“Hey, baby.” He mumbled softly and quietly, hands rubbing circles on your legs.
Barry raised his eyebrows at Rafe, Rafe motioning for him to leave, his old glare back before he turned his attention back to you.
“You tired?” He asked you quietly.
“Yeah. Wanna go home, Rafey.” You whined and complained. And with anyone else, the nickname would have had someone 6 feet under.
“Alright. We’ll go home. Lemme just clean up here, Kay’?” He patted your ass softly, gently getting you off his lap.
“‘Kay.” You mumbled tiredly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and waiting, but before he could even turn around to you, you were fast asleep on the couch.
He sighed, shaking his head and smiling again to himself.
#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe fluff#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron#obx series#rafe obx#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron blurb
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What it's like to take König's virginity. MDNI 18+
You were both careless, idiotic idiots. König was inching closer towards his thirties and through his drunkenness, he stupidly admitted to being a virgin. His eyes were half-lidded, his eyelids heavy as he gazed at you, palming his hard bulge that formed all because of your naughty teasing.
“Scheisse... Look what you've done, Liebling.” he heaved out and gasped as he jerked his hips skyward into nothing, fantasising about the tightness and softness of your pussy. Sure, he has used a fleshlight in the past, but he was sure that you'd feel nothing like the toy. He craved something realistic, your gumny and sticky walls clamping down around his shaft.
You took matters into your own hands and had begun to tease with him, playing around with him as if he was a toy. At first, König gradually sunk into your soothing touch, the feeling of your pussy rubbing against his thigh and your lips against his bare neck. Although, König couldn't hold back the tightness and fullness in his balls, how his lengthy cock twitched and throbbed beneath your bodyweight when you would grind your backside against his bulge.
The sound of his heavy, uncontrollable breathing made you laugh, the effect you had on the poor bastard. When you attempted to pull away, König would dig his nails into your soft hips to pull you backwards against his lap. He didn't appreciate the way you'd taunt and mock him for being a virgin, despite being in his late twenties. But you couldn't help yourself, the thought of this large hunk of a man being too socially anxious and creepy to lose his virginity was laughable, and almost attractive. You wanted to be his first, and clearly König did too, as he pushed you down and rutted against your tight rear, pulling his dick from his boxers to slap against your hole.
He wasn't interested in being gentle, not after your relentless and cruel form of flirting. Using his bodyweight, he held you down and forced you onto your stomach, pinning both his dirty hands to your waist as he began to grind his tip against your tight cunt, slowly nudging inside the gummy and smooth warmth of your precious cunt.
“Godverdammt! Oh, fuck- you're painfully tight...” he let out at a sensation he wasn't familiar with, the pulsing sensation of your cunny. But fuck, he'd be lying if he said it wasn't addictive.
He felt almost justified in being rough with you after being bullied by you. A smaller thing, mocking the large, brute man for not losing his virginity... Most people would laugh at the sight, but it only riled König up. He would thrust deep into your walls, growling out hoarsely as he shut his eyes tightly, biting his bottom lip as a pathetic attempt at hiding the pleasure he was feeling. He was delirious as he collapsed atop of you and humped your ass, fucking his meaty, virgin cock into your slick, soft folds. How could he resist? Even after his first orgasm, he wouldn't stop. He couldn't.
I mean, the sight of your pussy covered in his creamy load was enough for him to come again. He would slam into your folds, bite deep into your neck, and whisper utter filth into your ear while you weeped blissfully, the stretch leaving you stupid and dizzy.
Looks like König will be making fun of you and what a cock drunk, horny slag you've become, all for his cock.
#orla speaks#könig x you#könig x reader#konig x reader#konig x reader smut#konig x female reader#konig cod#konig call of duty#konig mw2#konig modern warfare#könig modern warfare#könig mw2#könig call of duty#könig cod#könig fanfiction#konig fluff#konig x you#konig#cod x reader#cod x reader smut#cod smut
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✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
It’s late when Rafe gets home.
He only wanted to meet Topper for a drink at the country club but one turned into three and before he knew it, it was 2 am.
The house is sitting in darkness when he enters, and he tries to be quiet as to not wake you up - hell hath no fury like you woken up in the middle of the night for no reason. Rafe doesn’t even dare to turn the light on the bedroom on, letting the light in the hallway shine into the room. He can see you buried under the blankets with quiet snores, and he tiptoes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before turning the light on.
The sight that greets him nearly sends him into cardiac arrest: the bathtub stained red, splotches half hazardly wiped away, the shower sprinkled with a red liquid running down the drain, and the white towel in the hamper stained a dark-ish red.
“What the-“
Rafe’s heart sinks and he immediately books it out of the bathroom, throwing the door open so hard it nearly comes out of its hinges. He turns the light on, getting on the bed and tugging you out of under the blankets, panicked.
“Rafe, what the hell?!” you shout, but he ignores you as he scans you up and down, patting you down to see if you’re hurt.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Rafe sits back, relieved when he realizes you’re fine. “Fuck, you scared me.”
“I scared you???” you retort, staring at him flabbergasted. “I was sleeping like a baby until you barged in here and started feeling me like you’ve been in prison for the last five years, what the fuck!”
Rafe sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I came home and the bathroom looks like a murder scene, how the fuck did you expect me to react?” he grunts, his eye twitching. “What the fuck were you even doing in there?”
Just as the words leave his mouth, he pauses, taking a closer look at your hair before running his fingers through the red strands.
“You dyed your hair.”
It’s more of a statement than a question and you nod, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious.
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
Rafe doesn’t reply, instead he brushes your hair with his fingers, coming up to the back of your head before tugging on it to pull you into a deep kiss. “It’s hot.”
You giggle into the kiss, swatting at his chest, pulling away a bit. “Sorry I ruined the bathroom, I didn’t know hair dye stains so badly.”
“‘s fine,” Rafe grunts, pressing you into the bed, as he hovers over you. “I can call a cleaning company tomorrow. Right now I’m more interested in seeing if your hair stains the sheets.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
author’s note: just a quick drabble i wrote in ten minutes inspired by me taking a shower after the hair salon forgetting how the red dye leaks. also bc @zyafics told me to post so. not beta read, we die like REDACTED
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron imagine#obx#outer banks#drew starkey
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Say It
Summary: Bucky hates you and the feeling is mutual. It didn’t matter if he was attractive, or heroic, he was a grade A pain in your ass. The petty insults and the constant staring. It unnerved you. But you know how to get under his skin….
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: SMUT, enemies to lovers, swearing, gun use (no violence), begging, dom/brat dynamics
Sergeant Barnes was nothing more to Y/N than a nuisance.
He was always giving Y/N shit. At the compound, on the streets, during missions. He just never let up.
She did her best to avoid him, as being in the same room as him always brought out her worst.
He made her feel snippy and childish, resorting to constant defenses and quick retorts that left her with her head spinning afterwards.
It always felt like he got the final word, the last laugh, and it drove her crazy.
But with all his insults he dealt out, she had one solid retort. The one thing that could get under his skin… his army title.
Sergeant.
She wasn’t sure why, but nothing else phased him.
For him, it was the way she phrased it. Laced with disdain and contempt, throwing his authority back in his face.
His title be damned, she didn’t care. He may have been an authority figure in the army but he was by no means her superior. They were equals on the field and she made sure to remind him of that every chance he got.
She never called him by anything else, other than a few nicknames like asshole, dick, etc.
Never Barnes, never Bucky, never James.
Just sergeant.
And today was no exception.
Barnes and Y/N had both failed their firearms tests, or rather, neither had shown for their scheduled tests due to an emergency mission. Both were extremely skilled in their previous tests, but without passing the second time, neither of them would be reinstated as agents.
Not wanting to take any chances, Fury mandated bi-weekly training for the two. Why they had to train at the range at the same time, was beyond them.
“Your stance is off.”
Y/N huffed, glancing at Barnes out of the corner of her eye.
He stood to the side, arms crossed over his vest, gaze piercing under neath his protective glasses.
“Noted,” she chided, “Though your input wasn’t asked for, it’s noted.”
He chuckled, “Just trying to help. Wouldn’t want to fail your second time, would you?”
She reminded herself to unclench her jaw, nearly shattering her teeth in annoyance.
“I didn’t fail. I missed it. Same as you did.”
She sturdied herself, aiming for her target at the far end of the range.
She calmed herself, breathing in and out. In… and out… in—
“You’re gonna miss if you keep that stance.”
She growled, “Will you shut up and just let me shoot?”
“You need all the tips you can get, kid. No need to get hostile.”
A nickname she loathed, kid. He was always throwing it up in conversation, even when addressing her to other people. His constant reminder of how “young and inexperienced” she was.
“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll show you hostile.”
He stalked closer, leaning against the firing stall wall.
“Considering that you’re so inexperienced with a weapon, I don’t feel all that threatened.”
She disarmed her rifle and rested it, turning to face him.
“Right, right.” She said, “I have no experience with weapons. If only I had as much experience as you, tell me another fucking war story while you’re at it Sergeant.”
His face lost its smirk, dark blue eyes now glaring at her.
“You should show me some respect.”
She laughed, turning away from him.
“I should show you nothing, I don’t owe you anything.”
She picked up her rifle again, rearming it and getting set to shoot. She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her head. Her face grew hot, a trickle of sweat slipped down her temple.
Just breathe. Be steady, be certain. Fingers on the trigger, get ready…
“You gonna wait all day?”
That was it.
7 shots fired from the barrel, fast and paced with perfect precision.
7 holes left in the target’s chest, all she needed to pass.
She would be ready for upcoming test.
She disarmed her rifle once more, removing her tactical gloves and tossing them to the table.
“Anything else you care to say?” She asked.
His eyes had never left her form, and he smiled.
“Lucky shots.” He replied, “Hopefully they don’t clock your form on Friday.”
“Fuck you.”
She moved to walk passed him, her arm colliding with his shoulder.
He grabbed her wrist and whipped her back to the stall.
“Don’t talk to me like that. Be quiet and stand here.”
His hands gripped her hips hard, and he spread apart her legs with his. His stubble scraped her cheek, his breath hot on her ear.
He moved her as he spoke, his hands harsh and controlling. “Face the target squarely, feet shoulder width apart. Toes should face the fucking target flex your knees—”
His hips bucked against hers, “Lean forward towards the target. That’s how you take a fucking shot.”
He was breathing hard against her neck, his heart ramming against his chest. She hoped he couldn’t hear hers ramming too.
“That’s isosceles. I prefer the goddamn weaver stance.”
He didn’t move, and neither did she.
“Yeah?” He uttered, “You do that and you expose an area. Right here—”
His large hand wrapped around her torso, nearly encompassing her side.
“—that’s open from your armor. You get shot there, you die.”
She shoved him off of her, whipping around to face him.
“What difference does it make? They’re both accepted stances by the government’s protocol.”
“If you don’t give a fuck about your survival chances then why give a fuck about your test at all? Your stance matters.”
She stepped to him, her face inches from his.
“I give a fuck about my survival chances. Just because I don’t like your old school, traditional bullshit stance, doesn’t mean I don’t give a fuck about my test.”
“You refuse to take any criticism about your skills, it’s gonna get you killed.”
“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Their chests heaved in unison, their eyes wild as they dared to look at one another.
“Then you wouldn’t have to deal with the hot-shot rookie that knows more than you, that could replace you in a heart beat.”
Discarding his eyewear, he scoffed in her face. As he stalked forward, her back inched towards the opposite stall wall.
“You think you’re so much better than me, than everybody on this team. You couldn’t replace me, I’m one of the strongest and most experienced members on this team. You’re nothing but an entitled brat with your head in your ass. I can do more than you could possibly imagine.”
Things were turning dangerous. She hated that he insulted her age, she hated that he called her inexperienced, she hated that he was constantly fucking with her head. She hated that he looked so fucking hot when he was this angry, standing right in front of her.
“Oh yeah?”
She grabbed the tactical gloves and shoved them into his chest.
“Then why don’t you show me how it’s done—”
He watched as her lips snarled, hand pressed against his chest.
Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking say it.
She smirked.
“Sergeant.”
His hands flew up so fast.
Gloves fallen to the floor, her hands were pinned to the wall.
He pushed her up with his hips, body taut against her.
Her eyes were blown wide, lip dropping in awe.
“Say it again. I dare you.” He growled through gritted teeth, noses touching.
She urged her body not to tremble at his grasp, heat pooling in her abdomen.
He was testing her. Playing some twisted mind game. He wouldn’t hurt her, he wanted to see if she backed down. She wouldn’t.
“Sergeant.”
Blue eyes turned black.
His mouth was hard on hers, fingers digging desperately in her wrists. He pressed his hips forward, pushing his hardness into her clothed core.
She gasped into his lips and he took the chance to battle with her tongue. He ground himself against her again.
He pulled away, taking in her shocked gaze.
“You wanna mouth off to me? Give me attitude?”
He ducked his head into her neck and she shuttered. His hips continued their bucking.
“No respect… I’ll teach you how to behave.”
Her head was spinning, thoughts running wild from the man in front of her. All this hatred, all this fighting, now his hands were releasing hers and stripping off her vest.
Her hands were free now, why wasn’t she pushing him away?
She grabbed his shoulders to stable herself, watching as his hand dipped into her waistband. The other gripped the underside of her ass, keeping her clothed pussy right against his hardening cock.
He laughed to himself, “Is this you showing me hostile? Look at you now, nothing to say.”
She stifled a moan as his fingers drifted across her panties.
“Barnes, I—”
He awed, “There it is. No ‘sergeant’ this time, huh kid?”
He rubbed at her clit through the fabric, watching as she struggled to keep her composure.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he hissed.
“Don’t call me that.”
He leaned in to her neck, fingers shifting her panties to the side.
His voice vibrated against her throat.
“You don’t like it? Be good and I’ll call you something else.”
She gasped as his fingers entered her, strong and purposeful.
He groaned at her wetness, licking the skin at the base of her neck.
Her legs clenched around his waist, he rewarded her with another finger.
“If I’d known fucking you would have shut you up, I would’ve done it sooner.”
She swallowed a sigh as his fingers pressed against that perfect spot.
“You aren’t fucking me. You’re teasing me.”
He bit her neck and she gasped again.
“Be patient sweetheart, I’ll fuck you soon enough.”
As his thumb circled her clit while his fingers pumped into her, her eyes rolled back. Head drawn back, she couldn’t help but moan.
Bucky hummed as he fucked her with his fingers, “You like that?”
She bit her lip as he continued his teasing, his face moving away from her neck.
He leaned back and grinned, “Is that what you want? Me calling you sweetheart while I fuck you?”
“I—”
Her moan interrupted her as he picked up his pace.
He tsked as he rested his forehead against hers.
“Use your words. You wanted to before.”
She whimpered as he withdrew from her, angry with herself for giving into him as much as she had. She couldn’t let him win like this, she had to bite back a little.
“No,” she huffed, “Try something else to turn me on.”
He smirked at the challenge, and his hands dipped back into her waistband.
She wasn’t prepared for him sliding her pants to the floor, hiking her up further onto the wall.
“Fine,” he said, “but you’ll have to ask nicely.”
He was as soft as before, his fingers moving at a harsher pace. The newfound angle left her crying out, desperately clawing at his arms in pleasure.
“What do you think, huh? Maybe baby?”
He dipped his head to her chest, sucking at the delicate skin.
He didn’t need to watch her to know what she liked, he could feel it in her body. The beating of her heart and the rapid breaths she gave as he pulled her closer and closer to her peak.
“Princess?” He drawled, “No, no…”
He curled his fingers, pulling another whimper.
“How about Angel?”
She clenched around his fingers and gasped as he bit into her breast.
“Oh god—.”
“Ask me nicely, Y/N.”
Her back arched against the stall, eyes closed as he edged her.
“Fuck, yes. Yes Barnes, yes.”
She cried out as he drew her orgasm from her, hips rutting into his hand.
He groaned as she coated him with her wetness, the mewing mess he had made of her.
This was so much better than training.
“I knew I’d get you begging. I fucking knew you’d be good for me.”
He pulled her away from the wall, and she stumbled into his arms. Her eyes were glossy, hair tussled and lips swollen. All from him, all his doing. Pride welled in his chest, but he wasn’t done yet.
He spun her around, leaning her against the table that faced the targets.
“Remember what I told you Angel. Feet apart, bend forward.”
He pushed her chest down to the table, hands raking over her backside.
She growled, “I don’t need another damn shooting lesson.”
Her ass stung as his hand spanked her.
“What happened to being good, kid?”
She propped herself up on her elbows, “I said, don’t call me that—ah!”
He smacked her ass again, “That fucking mouth again. Why don’t you put it to good use?”
She sighed as he pushed her down to the table again, “What? You want me to suck you off, that it?”
He chuckled, “No Angel, I’ve got something else in mind.”
His hands swiftly removed his belt, slipping down his pants and boxers to leave him in nothing but his vest and t-shirt.
Pulling out his cock, he teased her entrance. Slowly sliding his head along her glistening folds, listening as she moaned in anticipation.
“You’re gonna say my name.”
He dipped his throbbing head in, feeling her legs tense… her pussy clench around nothing.
He pulled back and she exhaled.
“You’re gonna beg me, and you’re gonna say my name.”
She attempted to rut back against him, desperately hoping she’d take him in.
She couldn’t say his name, she couldn’t beg. She’d never live that down.
His metal hand held her in place, not letting up.
“Say it Angel,” he demanded, “Beg me to fuck you.”
“Screw you Barnes—”
His thumb was harsh on her clit, and she yelped at the rough circles he drew into her.
“I’ll leave you here, a wet fucking mess. Don’t test me, Y/N. Say it.”
“Fuck,” she cried out as he teased her with his fingers. “Fine I—”
He put the head of his cock in again, stretching her entrance.
“Bucky, please.”
He hummed, “Better. But not what I want.”
She felt herself grow cold in her exposure, Bucky pulling away and hand leaving her side.
She whipped around, “What? I said it!”
He smirked at her, shaking his head.
“First name, Angel. And beg.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
He could see it in her eyes, how desperate she was. Yearning for more, but so damn proud.
“Just say it, Angel. All you have to do.”
She hissed through her teeth, so touch starved she could cry. This would be the death of her, her legs shaking and wetness pooling at her thighs. Fuck, she had to.
“For god’s sake James, please just fuck me.”
He strode forward with ease, pushing her back onto the table.
He knew she’d give.
“That’s my girl.”
Her hips were around his waist in a second, hands in her hair and kissing her roughly as she moaned beneath him.
He bucked his hips against hers, sliding his cock along her dripping entrance.
He lined himself up and thrust into her, her head rolling back in a loud cry.
He groaned as he filled her up, her pussy tight around him.
“Fuck, you feel perfect.”
He rutted into her at a relentless pace, unforgiving as his hands gripped her waist.
“So good, Angel. Could fuck you forever with a pussy like this.”
Her fingers curled into his hair, gripping tightly as he pounded her harder against the table.
“You want that? You want me to fuck you over and over? ‘Til you can’t say nothing but my name?”
She exhaled a yes, mind too clouded from pleasure to stop herself. She was melting in his hands now, completely at his whim.
“Say it Angel, say my name.”
She was going to cum again, her vision growing blurry as it pooled in her stomach.
“James, oh god, James!”
She came hard, the lights blinding her as her orgasm took over her body.
His thrusts grew harder, determined to keep her cumming until he finished.
“That’s it Angel, cum for me. So fucking pretty when you cum.”
His hips stuttered as she looked at him, a moaning mess with her pleading eyes.
“Cum inside me James, please.”
He was done for.
He finished with a groan, body falling limp against her. Their chests rose and fell in unison, their breaths filling the quiet room.
It was dawning on them now, the wild scenario that had played itself out.
How did they get here?
Too tired to question it, Bucky lifted himself off of her.
He gently wrapped his hands around her waist, guiding her to sit up.
Silent, they look at each other.
Their faces were unreadable, dripping with sweat and cheeks swelled with red.
She tried to discern that look in his eyes, she never knew what he was thinking.
Unless he was right in her face, snarling at her, then she knew what he felt.
Anger, frustration, hatred.
This look… now that was something new.
He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.
“Okay…” he started, “no more ‘kid’ and no more ‘sergeant’.”
She swallowed, not trusting her voice she responded with a nod.
He nodded back. “No more fighting. It’s exhausting.”
She was taken aback that, and he laughed at the look of shock on her face.
“C’mon. It is.” He pointed between them, “Our energy is much better spent on this.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Wow, just like that?”
He nodded. “Mhm, just like that. You drive me crazy but, I can’t say I haven’t been thinking about this since the day we met.”
Speechless again, she stared at him as he continued.
“You’re frustrating, you make me worried, you—hell you’re reckless and it scares me. Feels like I have to keep an eye on you all the time.”
“You are frustrating. You don’t trust me to take care of myself or the team.” She said
He shook his head, “Not true. You’re a great agent, but I meant what I said. You don’t take criticism.”
She scoffed, “And you criticize too much.”
Still shocked at the events prior, she didn’t shove him away as he moved to hold her.
She shocked herself further by wrapping her arms lazily around him.
“Well,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “we’ll work on that.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sloppily written but hey, we get what we get and don’t get upset.
Taglist:
@pigeonmama
@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable
@dumb-ass-3
@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @niiight-dreamerrrr @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes
Bucky tag list:
@emmabarnes
#marvel#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes smut#bucky#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes au#Bucky Barnes enemies to lovers
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━━ ❝ HE LIKES IT WET 'N' MESSY ❞
ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...synopsis : the more you think about it, the more you realize you love how messy atsumu is…
ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...cw : m. atsumu x fem!reader, wet and messy, ovėrstimulation, dirty talk, marathon sėx, desperation, playful banter, unprotected sēx, excessive cūm (?), atsumu's undiscovered breēding kınk, begging, messy kissing, atsumu miya can't shut the fuck up
ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...lunar's note : another revamping of an old work of mine where i just. make this even more debauched and filthier than it was before !!
if there’s one word to describe atsumu miya, it’s messy.
sometimes, he leaves his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting until you playfully kick him in the butt to pick up his things and put them in the laundry.
he's also so messy when it comes to eating, always having food on his face, causing you to tease him as he tries to wipe it off, completely missing.
it doesn't bother you that much, having already grown used to his messy nature.
it does bother you, however, when he makes a big mess of the sheets. he's always ignoring your whines for him to get a towel to put down or else you'd make him do laundry for the rest of the week.
atsumu always gives the same damn response, a long whine of your name, telling you he’ll clean it up after.
after all, atsumu doesn't think he can bring himself to pull out of your slick heat, not when you feel this fucking good. he can't remember the last time he got to fuck you like this, messy and desperate without worrying about needing to get up early the next day to catch a bus or plane for a game.
he swears he almost forgot how warm you were, how sweet your voice sounds when you were this close to him, how pretty your face looks even when you were looking at him rather annoyed despite being fucked.
“’t-'tsumie, the towel—!”
“baby, nooooo, don’ make me pull out, don' it feel good? d'ya really want me to stop?”
fuck, you can't lie, it feels good, it feels so fucking good, the way he slows his hips to torture you with the slow drag of his cock, making you feel every inch pull out...and then slowly slide back in, a wet squelch signally his hips pressing fully against you.
but that doesn't stop you from being annoyed, knowing your fresh sheets were already a mess.
“d'awww, don’ look at me like that, sweetcheeks. tsumtsum's gonna make ya feel reaaal good if y'forget about the damn sheets,” atsumu huffs, his sweaty hands grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing them closer to your upper body.
its sinful the way he manages to slip in even deep into you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to prevent the pitiful little whimper from leaving him.
“l-lemme make a mess, baby girl, please?”
you want to roll your eyes at his request, because it's a little too late for him to ask you that. his cum from the first round is already dripping out your stuffed cunt, leaking onto the freshly washed bed sheets under you.
it doesn't matter that his sticky cock head is messing up your insides by pressing against all the spots that have you gushing. you just put these sheets on the bed!
giving him the best pout you can manage, you huff, "f-fine—o-oh!"
that pretty little moan shouldn't cause him to react so excitedly, but he can't help it. hearing your approval has him giggling, he knew you'd give in eventually, and he's going to make sure you don't regret it.
besides, hearing you, his sweet lil' princess, try to sound all tough and serious with his cock deep inside your hot gummy walls that were sucking him in with each thrust is making him so dizzy.
you are too damn cute for your own good.
he can't hold back anymore, not when you're so cute. his hands squeeze your thighs before he starts to pound into you, savoring the way you keen for him, mouth open as you chant his name so needily.
you aren't the only one being loud, poor atsumu giving up on holding back all those pretty noises of his, the way your tight walls squeeze and massage his throbbing dick so sweetly making it literally impossible to stay quiet.
“f-fuck, 'tsumu, ‘s too deep, ’s coming out more,” you whimper, trying to lift your hips to stop his cum from leaking out of you.
the wetness of your overstimulated cunted paired with his leaking cum causes the room to be filled with loud, wet, squelching, causing you to look down.
you suck in a breath, a hot pang of pleasure shooting up your spine at the sight between your legs. atsumu’s stupidly big dick is an absolute creamy mess that only seems to get messier the more he moves, pulling and pushing the sticky mixture of your cum in and out.
“listen to that, dolly, s' fuckin’ dirty. mmnh, tight l-lil' cunt can’t hold all my cum?”
god, atsumu doesn't ever shut up, he's always such a talker, knowing how embarrassed it makes you.
“c’mon, say it, angel, say it f' me, pretty please?”
“a…atsumu, i can’t hold all of your cum…’s comin’ out, ‘tsumu, you're making me messy.”
he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it, god, he really wasn't, but you did and now his eyes are fluttering as they roll back into his skull.
don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, he chants to himself, feeling himself nearly lose it just from your words.
a choked groan forces its way out of his mouth, you're just too fucking hot for him. he can't think of anything but you, your pretty face, your soft body, and your insanely wet cunt.
“s’okay, s’okay, fuck, i’ll-i'll fuck ya, pumpkin, 't-'tsumi's gonna fuck ‘n’ fill ya up over ‘n’ over again, 'til y'can't keep it all inside, gotta stuff you with my cum, make you cream around my cock, need it, need it.”
atsumu is absolutely gone, now fully pressing into you as he fucks you into the mattress. each thrust makes you cry his name, fingers digging into his back as he puts you into a mating press, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, so ready to pump another hot load into you.
it's too much, the drag of his cock and the way it was so deep inside you. tears prick the corners of your eyes, each thrust making your brain slowly turn into nothing but mush. you hate the mess, you really do, but hearing atsumu so desperate does something for you.
you...you want it, you want him to mess you up.
your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you moan and pant against his ear.
“a-atsumu, honey,” you coo to him, savoring the stuttering of his hips and the quiet hiss of ‘fuck’ you get out of him from the sound of your voice. “please, please fuck me more, fuck me, fill me up, stuff my pussy with your cum, h-honey, mark me nice a-an' deep, okay?”
everyone in the world knows that atsumu miya would give you the world if you asked. so you want to be filled up nice and full? then, he'll give you what you want, take such good care of you and make sure you feel him dripping out of you for days.
“yeah, yeah, fuck, good girl. take this cock, take it like a good girl, so good, my pretty girl, fuck! s-she takes this cock so well, wish you could see how good ya look stretched 'round me like this, baby, ohmyfuckin'goddd.”
you can't stop yourself, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate, the need to taste him overwhelming as your hands get tangled in his hair. he pulls away, panting into your mouth as his thrusts get harder and sloppier.
it's just a fucking mess now, your slick and cream and his cum are coating his abdomen and thighs, dripping everywhere. each thrust has you splashing on him from how fucking wet you are, and atsumu feels like he's gonna fucking faint if he tries to hold off his orgasm for much longer.
“'tsumu, 't-tsumu, 'tsumu—!"
“t-tell me ya want it, baby girl, p-please? c-c'mon, tell me y'want my fuckin' cum inside ya, n-need ta hear it,” he begs against your mouth, eyes watery as desperate tears threaten to spill.
you can't think, can't give a coherent response as you babble, the word ‘please’ falling from your lips over and over again. you just want him to stop talking and kiss you again as he pumps your needy hole full of his seed, until you can't take anymore, until it spurts out from around his cock.
but then, he stops.
a strangled sob leaves you the second his hips stop moving. it's borderline painful, you're so fucking close. just a few more thrusts and you'd be creaming all over his thick cock, tugging and pulling on his hair as your slick squirts all over him.
but no, atsumu fucking stopped.
you look at him with teary eyes, silently begging him to explain. this is just unfair to both of you! but atsumu only gives you a cocky grin, and you have to stop yourself from flicking his nose.
he grants you some relief, rolling his hips gently as his hand slides up to cup the back of your head as he pepper your sweaty cheek in open mouthed kisses. he's so annoying, you love him so bad.
“dunno, pumpkin, don' think ya begged enough f'me. hmm...i’ll give ya one more shot, baby…tell me how fucking much ya want my fuckin’ cum in yer pretty cunt and make ya a creamy lil' mess."
all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work
#atsumu x reader#atsumu x you#atsumu smut#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya smut#𖤐 ── lxnarworks.#hq smut#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x reader#hq x you#hq x reader
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rafe + degradation kink
warnings: mean!rafe (barely), pogue!reader, secret relationship, degradation, unprotected sex, slight jealousy, rafe slaps you
“what do you think your dumbass friends would say if they saw you like this, huh? underneath me, taking my cock like the filthy slut that you are?” you whimpered, nails digging into rafe’s skin as his hand came up to wrap around your neck. “so fuckin’ pathetic, you just couldn’t wait ‘til they left you alone.” he cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him.
“but that’s what you like, right? you run around causing all kinds of trouble, acting like you hate me but in reality you let me dig you out anytime i want. you’re such a fucking whore.” you couldn’t help but choke back a sob, tears brimming your eyes at the way the head of his cock stroked your sweet spot. rafe had your chest rising and falling, making you gasp for a full breath before knocking it right out of you again.
his thrusts were merciless, his hips slamming into your own with a force that made you tremble and shake. despite being rough, rafe still kissed you gently, whispering an occasional, ‘is my pretty girl okay?’ before continuing his brutal ministrations. “fuck!” you cried out, back arching off of his sheets.
rafe would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him when you acted like he was the worst person in the world while in the presence of your friends, the only way he could get you back for that was being mean to you during sex. “wanna act like i’m insufferable still? you should tell jj how you beg for it, ‘bet he wouldn’t believe you.” rafe laughed, slapping your cheek hard enough to make your head turn in the opposite direction.
your mouth fell open in a silent moan, eyes rolling back as your fingers started working on your clit. rafe cursed at the sight, hooking your thigh around his waist. he knew he could take you deeper in this angle, both of you moaning when you felt the head of his cock kiss your cervix. “rafe, please. wanna cum.” he shushed you, clamping a hand over your mouth.
“shut the fuck up. do you really think i’m gonna let you have your way?” he scoffed, “fuck no. i don’t even let good girls get what they want.” your eyes narrowed at the mention of other girls, your hands coming up to push at his chest. “aw, does that bother you? the idea of me fucking other girls like this pisses you off?” you bit the palm of his hand, sending his hand flying back as he glared down at you.
“fuck you.” your chin wobbled, a gasp leaving your lips when he tugged on the roots of your hair. “fuck me?” rafe repeated, “i’m just messin’ calm down.” he leaned down, kissing you softly. “how would you like it if i told you something like that?” rafe shook his head, both of you moaning at a particular stroke of his hips. “i wouldn’t believe you.” he laughed at your irritated expression. “and why is that?” you shot back.
“cause i’ll fucking kill anyone who touches you.”
#⟡ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒#outer banks#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron concepts#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe edit#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe obx#obx#obx rafe#drew starkey
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[ ░ ] 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 — 𝘦𝘯𝘩𝘢 𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 ! 🤍 18+
╰┈➤ enha + when you act out ! ✧.*
˗ˏˋ ✧ ´ˎ˗ PAIRING — enha hyung like × fem!reader
˗ˏˋ ✧ ´ˎ˗ WARNINGS — unprotected sex (use protection please), missionary, doggy, riding spitting, pet names ( baby, sugar, pretty) degradation, praise (?), use of sex toy (dildo), bulge kink
taglist enha masterlist
[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝙡𝙚𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜 !
“yeah, that’s it baby, t-take it all” he whispers into your ear, hips snapping endlessly into yours. you’d been teasing him all day, letting your tongue slip into his mouth for every kiss, wearing the shortest skirt you own, ass all out in the open. heeseung was beyond riled up, just waiting to have you alone and quite literally fuck you up. your legs are pushed so close your chest, toes curling each time his cock plunges at your sweet spot. heeseung can’t help but stare longingly at the way your tits bounce and jump with each thrust, dick hardening inside of you. “seungie—! please, slow down, t...too much” you mewl out with cries, eyes shut and mouth left hanging open. he tightens his grip on your hips, leaning back as he pulls it closer, pounding into you even faster than before. heeseung presses against the bulge in your stomach, grinning at it with a sinister look in his face.
you let out a string of choked moans, eyes rolling back to your skull, “fucking cumslut, you asked for it” he rasps back at you with a stern voice, anger clearly present. heeseung leans back down, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, his nose bumping into yours as his hand comes up to squeeze your cheeks, spitting in your mouth. its makes you feel dizzy, orgasm approaching closer by the second when you feel his cock twitch inside your cunt. “god, fuck— look at these tits, should cum all over shouldn’t i?” he says, mostly to himself as his eyes trail down to them. your eyes go wide as you coat his dick in white, chest heaving as you replay your orgasm, gasping slightly. heeseung still hasn’t pulled out, his rhythm slowing down as he pulls out abruptly, squirting all over your chest. it only has you slowly taking some on your fingers and stuffing it down your throat.
[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙟𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜 !
you had no excuse for the way you were purposefully provoking your boyfriend’s patience tonight, except that he hadn’t fucked you in two weeks. it was at a close friend’s birthday, and you really couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. jay’s patience was on the verge of breaking at the way you kept palming the tent that had built inside his pants, so with an excuse that you were feeling out of it, he dragged you out of your fun early. and here you are now, tear streaked face pressed into the floor of your living room as he smacks his hips into yours from behind, pulled your ass closer. you knew jay was angry, simply by the way you didn’t even make it to the bedroom. “mm! i’m sorry— g.. god” you murmur as you lift your head, balancing yourself on the palms of your hands.
jay lets out a sarcastic chuckle at your words, jaw tightening. “fucking think that’ll do anything? shit—” he rasps, hissing when he feels your walls clench down on him. your legs shake vigorously as his cock hammers at your cervix, walls fluttering. jay thinks he’s never going to see anything prettier than you under him and pleading, so despite you begging him to slow down a little, he only goes faster. it was all too much for you, intense pleasure aching at your core, but you’d be pushing back your hips if he even ended up stopping. “ja..y— gonna cum!— fuckfuck” you cry out, the knot inside your stomach tightening and walls pulsating. your so close, so so close, you’re about to let go, when he pulls his cock out of your wet walls, the sweet feeling dying down. he rubs your hips soothingly when you go still, whispering into your ear, “you’ll get to cum, pretty, just not now”
[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝙨𝙞𝙢 𝙟𝙖𝙚𝙮𝙪𝙣 !
jake still remembers the way your fingers sat stuck inside your dripping cunt when he walked into your shared bedroom; insatiable would be the word he’d use to describe you right now as he drags a baby pink dildo through your tight walls. you knew this was coming, you knew you should’ve sit still, but here you were, spread over your boyfriend’s lap as he stabbed a dildo through your cunt, fingers flicking at your clit. “hah—! yun.. wan’ your cock!” you say with a small frown etched upon your face. the words let out sounded a lot more insolent than you intended, but you could care less, it only pushed his buttons harder. jake is amused at how easy your words come out of your mouth, poking his inner cheek with his tongue.
“real fucking bitchy today, aren’t you?” he snaps, tossing the dildo, then removing his belt and pulling down his jeans, just until his cock sprung out, hard and slightly pink at the tip. the sight made your eyes droop in a daze, just desperate to get it inside of you. your legs wrap around jake’s waist as he pulls you closer, stuffing his dick inside your gaping hole abruptly. his cologne suffocates you in the best way, hips lifting off the bed as he pounds into you, walls fluttering and spasming around his length. “fucking take it! wanted cock didn’t you? come on baby, tell me you love it” jake snarls, thrusts getting wetter and sloppier. your toes curl up, legs numb and shaking as you nod again and again, “yes! shit—fuckfuck, love your cock, loveitsomuch” you mutter loud and broken, voice getting stuck. your body goes still as you let out your high, drenching his dick in white as he fills you up, hips still hitting yours. “we’re far from done, so be a good fucking girl and lay still” he whispers into your ear, leaning down and connecting his forehead with yours.
[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙣 !
“gonna be good girl?” sunghoon asks you, rubbing the sides of your hips soothingly. you nod, mumbling a small ‘yes’ looking away and managing a small smile as you play with the dainty silver necklace resting against his collarbone. lies, you definitely weren’t going to, and you knew it the moment you climbed onto his lap. he simply grins at you, lifting your hips up to fill your pussy up with his dick, completely swallowing it. you let out a gasp at the feeling, chest tightening when you feel his tip hit deep. sunghoon’s hands squeeze your hips, one hand moving down to grope your ass, as he moves you up and down his cock. you almost immediately tug of his hands, setting your own pace, acting like it was something totally normal. although you don’t look at him, you can feel him burning holes into your face with his stare, head tilted and an amused look drawn on his face.
sunghoon almost immediately brings your hips to a stop, grabbing both your wrists behind your back, tightly gripping them. “don’t think you heard me sugar, i said be fucking good” he tells you voice a lot more stern and deep. it has you gulping down your saliva, but you still put on a fake pout, looking at him innocently, “i didn’t do anything hoon, calm down” you tell with faux innocence. sunghoon thinks he’s never wanted to fuck you so hard and shut you up till now, chuckling deeply at the way you immediately talked back to him. “you wanna take control? is that it baby? then do it, but don’t you dare fucking stop, until i tell you” he tells you, laying back down. your a bit surprised at his words but listen nonetheless, mounting your hands on his chest as you bounce on his cock, igniting pleasure throughout your body. “mm, god, that.. f-feels good” you mutter, voice shaky as your hips move faster, the urge to come increasing. and that’s what you do, spilling all over, mind clouded and hips stopping. before you could even regain your strength, sunghoon’s hands take control, rocking your hips back and forth. you let out a cry looking at him, “i told you not to fucking stop, c’mon, let's see if you can make me cum” he mutters out.
#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#enhypen smut#enha hard thoughts#enha hard hours#enhypen x reader#enha smut#enha#heeseung smut#jay smut#jake smut#sunghoon smut#enhypen imagines#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#enha hyung line#heeseung hard thoughts#jay hard hours#jake hard thoughts#sunghoon hard hours#enhypen#jongseong smut#sim jaeyun smut#enhypen headcanons#sunghoon hard thoughts#jay hard thoughts#jake hard hours#enha x reader
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I CAN'T stop thinking about mattheo riddle with shy reader and edging nd overstimulation! please!!! 🥹
TAGS: 18+, smut, overstim, fingering/oral fem receiving, multi orgasm, begging, daddy kink (mattheo calls himself daddy (rightfully so), slight edging but heavier on the multi orgasm, dirty talk, praise kink.
well, anon, aren’t you so cute. begging for me so nicely like that hmm?🤭
Which is similar to what Matty would say as he’s kneeled in front of you, his fingers buried knuckle deep inside your cunt and thumb swirling over your clit—his movements slow, methodical, precise—since you’ve already cum twice and now he’s just teasing you for the fun of it, unable to pull away from you regardless of how much you squirm because your noises are just so fucking sexy and you’re so wrecked for him he’s never seen you look so beautiful.
“Matty, m’gonna—ohh—“
Your words are sliced by a whimper, your voice shattered cracked and fucking split into a million tiny pleasured pieces, back arching off the desk and eyes squeezing shut as he pumps you agonizingly slowly, his lips moving closer to your clit, teasing you with his breath until his tongue darts out to replace his thumb.
“That’s it, princess—give it all to me, baby..”
His words, muttered huskily against your dripping cunt, only add to your already mindblowing experience and the string inside you snaps in an instant, your third orgasm rolling through you so hard you damn near scream—and normally you’d be thankful that Mattheo had the presence of a mind to cast a silencing charm before all of this started, but at the moment you can’t find it in you to give a shit who the hell hears you.
You almost wished people could hear how fucking good he was making you feel—how fucking unhinged he'd driven you. You grip onto his hair so hard it feels like you’re trying to pry it from his scalp, your face burning and your body shaking. However, unfazed, Mattheo continues pumping and licking you through your high—only slowing slightly when your whimpers turn to pleas and you begin pushing him away.
He pulls his fingers out to lap up your release, and your ears ring, a shattered cry clogging in your throat. “Matty!—s’too much..t-too much—fuck…”
Both hands shift to your hips, gripping you tight and holding you in place as he mutters; “Mm—not yet..”
“Please—“ you moan, entirely against your fucking will, overstimulation making your head spin as you try to wriggle away from him but he doesn’t relent, determined to push you through it. “I—I can’t—Matty, I…ohhh…”
“Yes you can.” He grumbles against your cunt, the deep vibration of his voice making you gasp. “You can take it, for me…”
“Matty—“ your toes curl and your thighs clench around his head as he gives you a slow, languid, drawn-out lick before sealing his lips around your clit again and suckling gently. He’s attuned to your body, knowing exactly how to work you through overstimulation. “Mattheo—fuck—“
“That’s it…give me a little more, princess..I know you can…” he murmurs as he shifts his hold on you, palm pressing down on your pelvis, other hand moving back to tease your core again, gently pushing a finger into you while swirling over your clit. “You taste so fucking good…don’t wanna’ stop…”
Your head rolls back the second he eases his finger into you, clenching hard around it as he gently pumps in and out—dragging at your walls, pushing into the knuckle and curling slightly—everything he knows will drive you utterly fucking insane.
“Gods! Mattheo! fuck—“ oxygen was no longer in the room and you weren’t even sure if it existed anymore at all, unable to focus on anything other then his ministrations, his tongue rolling over your clit. “I-I-can’t—I can’t cum again—s’too soon…s’too much…”
“Shh, I got you…you’re okay, princess…” he cooes into your cunt, kissing at your clit as if attempting to soothe you, his breath warm and his voice low. Slowly, he adds a second digit inside you, his fingers curling just right to keep building the pleasure with an agonizing, deliberate slowness. “Daddy’s got you, baby…”
“Matt—“ there’s an edge to your voice now, frustrated and overwhelmed, your words tangling with the sheer intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. You don’t know what to do with it all, your hands shifting to clutch at the desk beneath you, knuckles cracking with the force of your grip. “It’s so fucking much, Matty—m’so sensitive—“
“I know, baby…” he mumbles, eyes fixed on his fingers disappearing into your soaked, aching cunt. You were one hundred percent certain he had no idea what you just said until he proves you wrong. “I know you’re sensitive, princess…but you’re doing so good f’me…”
And before you can even consider a response his lips are back on you, sealing around your clit and turning your vision blank—your hands shooting into his hair as though it could somehow ground you to reality—even though you knew you were long, long past that.
You can't control a single noise leaving your throat at this point. You're at the mercy of Mattheo Riddle—every swirl of his tongue and slow thrust of his fingers sending sparks shooting through every last nerve ending in your system. You're caught between pushing him away and bucking your hips toward him for more. Your brain is a scrambled mess, unable to effectively decipher and relay what it is that you want or need.
“M-Matt-y…G-gods!…”
Your fourth orgasm charges through you without mercy. You're gasping, whimpering, moaning, and crying out his name—all in a frequency barely coherent. Mattheo grins against your cunt, eagerly chasing your release, holding you tight as you squirm and shake, groaning against you as he relishes every last noise you make.
"That's it, baby...mm, good girl.." he coos through a choked groan, unable to get enough of how deliciously you break for him, how perfectly responsive to him you are. "Always so fucking good f'me..."
He pulls his fingers out slowly, the slick sound of your arousal filling the room until his groan overpowers it when he draws them into his mouth. He meets your eyes from between your thighs and you whimper, still twitching from the aftershocks—your body a trembling mess of overstimulated nerves.
“Look at you,” Mattheo's gaze never wavers, dark and hungry, as if he's already plotting how to bring you to the brink again. His fingers slip from his mouth with a soft pop, and he leans in to place a tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. “So fucking pretty…completely wrecked just f’me..”
Coming down from your high, a wave of embarrassment crashes over you as you realize the absolute mess you've made. Mattheo did a good job of containing it, but you can feel your wetness soaking the desk beneath you and the thought of meeting his eyes becomes almost unbearable. You whinge as he leans in, giving your pussy soft kisses, your hands shooting up to hide your face from him.
“Hey…hey…don’t look away from me..” he murmurs almost instantly, his voice deep and firm but soft and low. He softly nips at your inner thigh, planting gentle kisses over your mound as he trails to the other. One of his hands reaches up to remove your hands from your face. "Why are you getting shy on me, baby...hm? You embarrassed of the mess daddy's made of you?"
“Matty…” you whine, still trying to look away from him until he shifts his hand to your jaw and forces your eyes to his. “Please..”
“I’ll make you messier, princess…” he mutters, holding your gaze as he presses another kiss to your swollen clit. “I think you’ve got a few more in you.”
His fingers gently part your folds, testing your sensitivity with a deliberate slowness designed to provoke your rawest reactions. You groan, your back arching involuntarily, a helpless response to his touch. Your hands instinctively fly up to your face again, attempting to shield your embarrassment—but he intercepts them with a firm grip, pinning your wrists against your chest with one of his strong hands.
“No hiding, baby…I wanna’ see you…wanna’ see you break f’me…” he coaxes tenderly. “So perfect…pussys’ so perfect…”
His thumb finds your clit, circling it slowly, while his fingers continue their maddeningly slow movements, toying with you, enjoying the sounds of your arousal. His praise and possessiveness works to chip away at your embarrassment, though your face burns as you moan again.
"See? Nothing to be shy about," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your thigh. "You're perfect just like this, falling apart for me…fucking love seeing what I do to you..."
#mattheo riddle x y/n#mattheo riddle x you#mattheoriddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo#mattheoxreader#mattheo x y/n#matheo riddle#mattheo smut#mattheo riddle#mattriddlesmut#matt riddle smut#mattheo x you#mattheo fluff#riddle#riddle brothers#harry potter#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#slytherinboys#mattheoriddle x reader#overstim kink
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⋆⭒˚.⋆ i go lower - ʟɴ4 ☆
✿ lando norris x influencer reader + ex bf charles & ex best friend alexandra
✿ charles leclerc just keeps proving how much of a red flag he is
ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ୨୧ this is actually bad, i kept losing motivation so i just wanted to end it i’m so sorry
🝮
🝮
two days after the monaco gp
f1wags
liked by landonorris and 29,617 others
f1wags charles with a mystery girl in monaco last night! trouble in paradise?
lordperceval that ain’t no mystery girl 😭
sharls_lerklerk thats alexandra saint mleux she’s y/n’s ex best friend
⤷ lady.georgerussell why’d they stop being friends?
⤷ sharls_lerklerk she got with her ex boyfriend before charles 😭
⤷ lady.georgerussell63 SHUT UP 😭
estiebestie charles red flag leclerc back at it again
ethereal.yn bop
tripod.gasly bro invented homie hopping
all4lando why is no one gonna talk about lando liking this post?
sharls.eclair bro got p1 his home race and don’t know how to act anymore 💀
♥︎ by landonorris
dannyric.canlickle LANDO??!
🝮
ihateyn removed charles_leclerc and ynsbiggestfan as a follower
ihateyn unfollowed charles_leclerc and ynsbiggestfan
ihateyn
liked by lewishamilton and 92 others
ihateyn what the fuck i just woke up from my nap to my boyfriend out on a date with my ex best friend???
oscarpiastri I hate whores
francisca.cgomes i will cut his brakes
georgerussell63 Please dont cry queen I’ll run him off the track don’t worry
landonorris stand up
⤷ ihateyn i’m up
carlossainz55 Just say the word and I’ll make sure he’s never able to drive ever again I have nothing left to lose
lilymhe don’t be a little bitch
⤷ ihateyn you right you right
maxverstappen1 I’ll cut his dick off
sabrinacarpenter girl just tell me what to say and i’ll sing it for you dw
🝮
yn
liked by charlottesiine and 1,912,542 others
yn all in my lonesome
francisca.cgomes he who shall not be named better sleep with one eye open
lorenzotl Je t'aime petite soeur ❤️
⤷ yn i love you too enzo 🤍
⤷ sharlsworld “i love you little sister”
lilymhe once i get my hands on him it’s over for him
lewishamilton Chin up girl, You’ll be alright. sending all my love ♥️
⤷ roscoelovescoco yes’s we love’s you’s!
⤷ yn i love you two 🥹🥹♥️
arthur_leclerc i love you forever sista, my day 1 😇😇
⤷ yn my partner in crime always 🤞🏽
joris__trouche Been quiet since you left
⤷ yn come over whenever you want, you’re always welcome joris 🫶🏽
⤷ sharls_leclercussy gasping for air rn
chillinlikechili charlotte liked??
leclerc_pascale Ne sois pas triste, le soleil brillera à nouveau. Je t'aime pour toujours, viens bientôt tu me manques ♥️🥰
⤷ yn je serai bientôt fini maman je t'aime
⤷ sharlsworld pascale said “don’t be sad, the sun will shine again. i love you forever, come over soon i miss you” y/n said “i’ll be over soon mom i love you”
charleslovesyn ok but joris’ comment? my soul is weeping right now
🝮
yn
liked by danielricciardo and 3,082,561 others
yn 💌💐🎀🪩
landonorris who’s that handsome lad in the last slide? 😍
⤷ yn some bum i picked up on the side of the road
⤷ landonorris he looks absolutely yummy is he single 😈
⤷ yn get outta my comment section
leclerc_pascale Ma jolie fille! Tu me manques, douce fille 🤍🤍🤍
⤷ yn tu me manques aussi maman 💗
⤷ sharlsworld pascale said “my beautiful daughter! i miss you sweet girl” y/n said “i miss you too mom”
⤷ lovely_leclerc she’s literally the daughter she never had i’m sobbing 😭
alex_albon return him this instant
⤷ yn nahhhh
georgerussell63 Hmm interesting…
⤷ carmenmmundt Very interesting
landonorizz HELLLURRR WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE LAST SLIDE??
iactuallyhateyn moving on already?
⤷ yn can i not have guy friends?
lilymhe healing era rn revenge era coming soon trust guys 🥰
⤷ yn 😉
charlesismyman69 home hopping is crazy poor charles i hope he’s ok
⤷ landonorris yeah poor charles i wonder how he’s feeling after cheating on his girlfriend of 4 years with her ex best friend
🝮
charles_leclerc
liked by arthur_leclerc and 682,143 others
charles_leclerc Yawn
alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍😍
⤷ forzacharles GIRL
landonorris oh that not-
maxverstappen1 Brotha eughh
lilymhe downfall era 💀🔥
⤷ hoeforsainzzz lily muni he & oscar y/n defenders & charles haters: confirmed
♥︎ by lilymhe and oscarpiastri
estiebestie actually his downfall era though
lady.georgerussell erm what the sigma
carlando this should’ve stayed in the drafts
alex_albon this…not fye.
comments have been disabled
🝮
yn
liked by schecoperez and 5,592,781 others
yn life lately 🍉
leclerc_pascale My girl!! You’re like a breath of fresh air for my soul 🤍🤍
⤷ yn you always light up my day maman 🤍
♥︎ by leclerc_pascale
arthur_leclerc i totally won the diving contest idc what everyone else says
⤷ lorenzotl No I definitely did
⤷ yn you two basically belly flopped i won
scuderiaferrari We miss our girl! ❤️
♥︎ by author
charlottesiine cutie pie 😉😘🥰😍
⤷ yn your the reason why 🙂↔️
♥︎ by charlottesiine
landonorris fucked that pasta up
⤷ yn no sauce was detected on that plate after lunch
francisca.cgomes living for this
georgerussell63 I fear you won
⤷ yn 🥇🥇
forzacharles SCREAMING RIGHT NOW WHAT IS GOING ON
estiebestie pascale? arthur? lorenzo? charlotte? i’m deceased
carlossainzappendix she’s winning in life
🝮
yn
liked by danielricciardo and 11,017,535 others
yn worth the wait
landonorris i’d wait a million years for you
⤷ yn you’re to sweet to me
lilymhe this is the revenge era
maxverstappen1 That’s my favorite couple
francisca.cgomes WOOOOOO
leclerc_pascale My daughter deserves all the good in life 🥰 I love you my girl ❤️
⤷ yn i love you maman 💗
arthur_leclerc ❤️❤️
oscarpiastri Now I gotta deal with all the lovely dovey stuff
⤷ yn don’t act like your not happy about this
lewishamilton What did I say? Everything would be alright ❤️
⤷ yn so wise
lorenzotl My little star, you deserve all the love in the world 🌟💛
⤷ yn don’t make me cry enzo
joris__trouche 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽
charlottesiine so happy for you pretty 💘
♥︎ by author
🝮
landonorris
liked by maxfewtrell and 8,719,932 others
landonorris i’ll find you in every lifetime
yn nothing can keep us apart
⤷ landonorris nothing at all
francisca.cgomes are we surprised? no
danielricciardo Tone down the pda in the paddock plz 🙏🏽
⤷ landonorris nah fam
carmenmmundt Awhh so happy for you two
⤷ yn marry me carmen
⤷ carmenmmundt I’ll meet you at the altar
⤷ landonorris i just got her and your already taking her away from me 💔
pierregasly Hittin the clubs tonight
lilymhe shoutout to those un loyal bitches!!
alex_albon george owes me 200 bucks
⤷ georgerussell63 Whatever
⤷ yn uh what
⤷ alex_albon i said his post would be more sappy then yours
⤷ landonorris i hate you both
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris smau#lando norris fluff#lando norris smut#f1 smau#f1 imagine#formula 1#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x reader
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‘BAD HABITS’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO
pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader
genre. smut
word count. 6.6k
❝you know you're my favourite.❞
content warnings. toxic situationship, jealousy, heavy mentions of alcohol and weed, dealer!matt indications, explicit content, manhandling, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, mean!matt, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie.
Don’t look at him.
You mentally tell yourself as you forcibly tear your gaze away from Matt who enters into the house party with a girl at his side, capturing a glimpse in your peripheral vision of how his hand rests at the base of her back, guiding her through the crowded room.
Stop looking at him.
You remind yourself again when your gaze inevitably draws back to him, and from across the room, you find yourself fixated on his every move. You watch as he greets his brothers and friends with grins and handshakes before settling onto the couch they’re occupying. The girl follows, gracefully positioning herself beside Matt, her hands adorned with sharp manicured nails gliding onto his thigh.
Stop.
Your tongue prods at your cheek in annoyance as you watch how close they lean into each other to speak, how Matt’s words seem to make her giggle and she flicks her hair behind her shoulder when Matt smiles at her, clearly enjoying his obvious flirtatious comments. Irritated, your grip tightens around the cup you’ve been nursing all night, and yor forcefully tear your eyes away from the scene as Matt’s gaze finally meets yours.
The relationship you have with Matt is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and it’s not one you’re eager to let go of anytime soon. Matt is a friend—someone who you can rely on when things go south, someone who picks you up in his car for late-night food runs and smokes weed until the sun rises, and he’s someone who you actively sleep with just to get rid of that dull ache between your thighs.
You hate how well he knows your body, sometimes even better than you know it yourself. You hate how easy it is for him to whisper things into your ear, igniting something within you that leaves you breathless and yearning for more. You hate how his touch makes you weak and desperate, craving for more than just his hands. You hate how his eyes alone can have you on your knees in an instant, and his cock weighing heavily on your tongue.
But you know deep down that you have some sort of effect on Matt too, always finding it amusing how easy it was to get him alone with you, to make him drop whatever he was doing just to be in your presence. It, admittedly, brings you a lot of satisfaction in knowing that you both have some kind of similar hold over each other.
Although, there have been a handful of moments where he has ignored or rejected you, much like tonight.
It was you who had invited him to come to this party.
It was you that brought it up to him when you were fucking in the backseat of his car.
It was you that had asked him to accompany you, only for you to be shut down and told that he wasn’t interested in ‘some lame house party’, and instead revealing that he had other plans for that night.
Before you even arrived at the party earlier, you saw the Snapchat story posted by the girl who is currently clinging to his side like a leech. The image was blurry, but you could make out her holding two joints, with a caption tagging Matt to thank him, and promising a fun night.
At first, you figured it was a deal, being aware that Matt sometimes sells his weed on the side for extra cash, but you never expected that his ‘other plans’ would involve bringing her to a party he rejected coming to in the first place.
It honestly made you fucking pissed.
You mentally chastise yourself to get a grip and you scoff loudly, tilting your head back and gulping down the rest of your drink, the alcohol searing your throat and momentarily distracting you from your own fiery emotions. You lower the cup, swiping the back of your hand at the corner of your lips and wiping away any lingering traces of the liquid just as your best friend nears with you a drunken flush.
“Hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Anna exclaims as she flings her arms around your shoulders for a hug, but her embrace falters as she notices the sour expression on your face. “What’s happened?”
“I’m out,” You say, gesturing towards your empty cup with a tight lipped smile, trying to hold yourself back from admitting—”Oh. And Matt’s here.”
“I thought he said no to coming?” Anna’s brows knit together in confusion, and she glances over your shoulder in search, catching a glimpse of Matt and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. But her expression quickly shifts to one of exasperation as she rolls her eyes, directing her attention back to you. “Are we really surprised? You know exactly what Matt’s like.”
“I know.” You hate it.
Anna continues, “He’s always been like this.”
“I know.” You really hate it.
Anna takes a moment to stare at you before she sighs, her shoulders slumping as she crosses her arms over her front. “Yet, it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re thinking about him right now.”
She’s got you there. “I know…”
Anna firmly places her hands on your cheeks, and grips you with enough force to have you stare straight into her determined eyes. “Forget him. He’s just some guy you’re fucking occasionally, and you know what that means?” You blink in response, causing her lips to curl into a grin. “It means you are single and free to fuck anyone you want. We’re here to have fun, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”
She’s right.
Of course she’s right.
Her words bring a genuine smile to your lips and you nod in agreement, determined to not let something so silly ruin the rest of your night.
Anna wastes no time she excuses herself, returning back to you quickly with fresh drinks and tapping her cup against yours with a mischievous grin. You both take a few hearty gulps, allowing the alcohol to course through your veins and lighten your mood, head buzzing as she slips her fingers through yours to tug you away from your current position.
You mingle with a few of her other friends you’re familiar with, diving deep in conversations, laughing at jokes shared among the group, throwing flirtatious comments here and there when someone shows clear interest in you.
But you weren’t interested in them.
Not at all.
Not when you can still see Matt in your line of vision, who remains in his position on the couch, engrossed in his own conversation with his brothers, friends, and the girl who has yet to leave his side, seemingly unwilling to leave.
Your jaw locks tight when Matt occasionally meets your gaze, rubbing his palms on his jean-cladded thighs and shifting in his seat, manspreading as he relaxes back against the cushions. Your eyes narrow, fighting the urge to roll them when the girl beside him snuggles in closer, offering a smile that could make anyone swoon, but he’s not even looking at her now.
He’s fully looking at you.
Matt’s head tilts to the side slightly, the corner of his lips curling into a subtle smirk, leaving you with a mix of conflicting emotions that makes your head spin. On one hand, there’s a part of you that wants to wipe that look off of his face, fueled by your annoyance and frustration. But on the other hand, there’s a part of you that can’t help but be drawn to that smirk, wanting to bask in the attention and keep his gaze fixed permanently on you and only you.
A bitter taste lingers on the tip of your tongue as Matt’s attention is taken away from you, watching as he leans his head down to listen to the girl who whispers in his ear, her fingertips resting on his jawline to keep him close. A forced laugh escapes your lips, the sound tinged with bitterness and your tongue prods at the insane of your cheek.
You rip your gaze away from the pair, redirecting your focus on Anna who looks at you with a confused expression, clearly bewildered by your sudden laughter and you try to shake off that ugly feeling that has settled within you, offering her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and Anna spots that immediately.
She calls out your name, wanting to question your odd behaviour but her words come to a half when the guy beside you grabs the attention of the group. Was it Jason? Jaiden? You can’t quite remember, and frankly you don’t really care enough to remember. But you remain silent as he speaks, asking if anyone knows where he can buy weed at the party, if there is anyone who knows who sells as he assures that he has the cash.
Matt. The name flickers in your mind almost instantly, and you meet Anna’s gaze as she subtly shakes her head at you, knowing exactly what you’re thinking.
“I know someone,” You announce, and Anna sighs deeply in defeat. You ignore her reaction as you extend your hand towards the guy. “Give me the money. I’ll go get it.”
“Are you sure?” He asks in surprise, hesitating for a moment despite already having the dollar bills ready in the palm of his hand. “I don’t mind getting it—”
“It’s fine.” You cut him off abruptly, curling your fingers around the bills to take into your own hands. You turn on your heels, making a beeline directly towards Matt as you slip through the crowd, pushing through the bodies with determination and fire coursing through your veins, fingers grasping the money tighter as you get closer, eyes locked in on Matt as he watches you near.
As you stand in front of him, your gaze shifts to the girl by his side, tongue clicking against your teeth with bitterness tinging your thoughts as you observe her shuffling closer. Her hand now rests on Matt’s bicep, fingers sinking into the fabric of his hoodie.
The sight alone stirs a mixture of annoyance, frustration, and jealousy in the pit of your stomach and in the moment, you find yourself in an internal struggle to either make some snarky or bitchy comment in hopes to get Matt to understand how pissed off you truly are, or to continue with what you were originally here for.
“Pre-rolls.” Is what you say with a monotone and direct voice, deciding to get straight to the point, and you extend your hand as you show Matt the money, making your intention clear.
Matt’s eyes briefly lower to the money before returning to meet yours, “For you or someone else?”
“Does it matter?” You reply sharply. “Pre-rolled joints, please.”
“For someone else then,” You hear Matt mutter under his breath as he digs inside the pocket of his jeans to pull out exactly what you need, but he’s quick to pull it out of reach as you go to snatch it from his grasp. Your frustration grows within you as you glare at him, but he takes no notice of your expression as he asks, “Are you smoking too?”
You huff, “Obviously.”
You watch as Matt reaches back into his pocket and your demeanour shifts slightly as he pulls out another batch of pre-rolls, ones you’re all too familiar with as you see the pink-coloured skins. He knows you prefer spliffs over joints. You want to continue being annoyed and angry with how he knows you all too well but yet, deep down, you feel touched as your heart thumps wildly in your chest and a flutter of warmth swirls in the pit of your stomach at the seemingly thoughtful gesture.
You bite down on your tongue, not wanting to let him know how much that simple action affected you so much, “I don’t have enough money for two.”
“You don’t pay for yours anyways.” Matt states matter-of-factly as he takes the money for the one pre-roll but hands you the two. It’s true, you think, curling your fingers around the two pre-rolls he's given you. You’ve never paid him when asking for a smoke… he doesn’t let you pay him.
“You giving out freebies?” The girl beside him speaks up for the first time, her tone playful as she decides to jump in on the conversation. She nudges Matt’s shoulder as she teases, “Pink skins too? How come I don’t get that treatment?”
“Because I’m his favourite,” You find yourself replying before your brain can register it, sending her a forced tight-lipped smile as she looks up at you in surprise, not expecting you to be the one to respond. But you couldn’t care less. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
“I was talking more about the pink skins,” She snips back at you, and your tongue prods at your cheek once again, fighting off the urge to laugh as she turns to look at Matt as she smiles. “I like pink.”
“They’re for her.” Matt says as he gestures towards you with a nod of his head. The girl’s face drops, her smile completely fading and a sense of satisfaction washes over you. You offer her a sweet sickly smile in return before leaving, heading straight back to your group who are patiently waiting for you to come back.
Anna comes to stand beside you as you and the joint over to Jason (you managed to overhear his name as you were nearing closer to the group) and he grins in victory, thank you with a wet, dramatic smooch to your cheek before lighting it up, taking a hit and passing it around the group.
Anna leans her head down, disappointment clear in her tone as she speaks to you in hushed whispers, ridiculing you for suggesting Matt in the first place, but her tone soon shifts to curiosity and wonder, wanting to know what happened between you and Matt, and what you both had spoken about.
You’re partially honest with your answer, replying that the only topic of conversation was about the deal and that you were able to get exactly what you wanted and more as you showed her your own little gift. She grins, bumping her shoulder to yours proudly before jumping into a conversation with the others, taking the joint out of a friend's hand while you tuck yours away in your purse, saving it for later.
You had enough.
The irritation you feel becomes unbearable, unable to be masked by the alcohol coursing through your veins.
The sight of Matt and the girl still in the same position on the couch sitting close, sharing whispers and smiles. It gnaws at you despite your failed attempts to bury them with distractions by dancing with others and kissing others with lingering touches.
You’ve reached your breaking point.
You wish you were drunk enough to ignore everything and continue with the night, but unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case.
You want to leave.
Most importantly, you want to leave with Matt.
You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. It would be so easy for you to leave without him, or even find someone else to go home with—that being Anna or some random stranger. But honestly, you couldn’t care less about the easy options. You never cared.
Abandoning your half-empty cup without a second thought, you leave Anna behind, not even bothering to fill her in on what you’re about to do. The sound of her questioning fades into the background as you make your way towards the living-room area with a determined stride.
As you approach closer, a sense of tunnel vision takes over; everything else seems to fade into the background too, sounds becoming distant whispers or muted, completely overshadowed by your thoughts and emotions.
You begin to second guess how this upcoming conversation would go. If Matt would actually leave with you this time if you asked. After all, he did say no to coming here with you… so why would he leave with you?
You internally scowl at yourself for even thinking about something so negative.
He’s wrapped around your finger just as much as you’re wrapped around his.
“I’m leaving,” You announce as soon as you stand in front of Matt, not even giving him enough time to react to your sudden appearance. He remains unbothered though, his gaze casually meeting yours as he lifts a soda can to his lips. His eyebrow raises in response, and without missing a beat, you continue, “Come home with me.”
The girl sitting beside Matt reacts with utter disbelief, her mouth dropping open as she scoffs at your audacity, her eyebrows knitting together at your words but you’re unfazed by her reaction. It doesn’t make you feel bad at all, not as your focus remains on Matt, waiting for his response.
And in that moment, you feel a sense of victory and satisfaction swell in your chest when Matt gives a simple nod of his head and rises from the couch, reaching for his car keys that are clipped to the belt loop of his jeans as he bids his brothers and friends goodbye.
“Wait!” The girl exclaims as she interrupts, tone filled with desperation as her hand shoots out, gripping Matt’s arm tightly, halting his movements. Her eyes shift towards you at first, giving you a harsh look before turning her attention back to Matt. “Are you serious right now? You were my ride here. How am I supposed to get home?”
You hold yourself back, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from responding, though your annoyance is clearly visible on your face. You keep silent, watching as Matt’s face remains impassive.
“That’s not my problem,” He states bluntly, removing her grip from his arm without hesitation, words devoid of any sympathy. “You’ll figure it out.”
The girl’s jaw drops even further, shocked at Matt’s sudden change in attitude and tone. A smug grin finds its way onto your lips, unable to contain that satisfaction bubbling within you, and you wave your fingers in her direction as Matt’s arm finds its way around your waist, resting his hand on your hip as he leads you out of the area.
As you’re leaving the building, Anna’s disappointed gaze lingers on you, but she still mouths for you to be careful and gestures for you to call her when you get home. You nod your head in promise, blowing her a kiss before turning away and leaving her behind.
The cold air brushes against your burning skin, but your mind is too preoccupied with a whirlwind of angry thoughts and unanswered questions, and the scowl on your face is clear. Matt continues to lead the way, guiding you toward his parked car in silence.
It’s deafening, and you hate it, intensifying the frustrations that build within you.
You’re getting angrier.
You’re the first to climb into the vehicle, slamming the door of the passenger side with enough force it rattles the car. Matt, who seems completely oblivious to your anger (or just doesn’t take any notice), takes his place in the driver's seat, and his ongoing silence fuels your irritation even more.
Without sparing you a glance, Matt inserts the key into the ignition and twists, setting the car’s engine rumbling to life. His attention is glued to the dashboard as he presses a few buttons to turn on the radio, playing a song you’re all too familiar with but not in the mood to vibe along with like you usually would.
Your frustration grows further when Matt casually drapes one arm around the back of your seat, focussing behind as he reverses then pulls out of the parking space, the car gradually gaining momentum as it merges onto the road.
Settling back into your seat with your arms crossed tight over your chest, your gaze alternates between the side of Matt’s face and the road ahead. You’re aware that it would be best to stay quiet and allow yourself to calm down before questioning him, yet the curiosity mixed with annoyance within you refuses to be silenced.
You bite down on your tongue hard—you can do this.
… You can’t.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” You finally speak, unable to hold back your words. The bitterness seeps into your tone as you continue. “I thought you weren’t interested in ‘some lame house party’... what happened to that?”
Matt’s response comes with a nonchalant tone that irks you, “I’m not interested,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I had things planned, but plans changed.”
“Right,” You hum. “So you decided to come to a party, which I invited you to, with a girl?” You struggle to hide the tinge of jealousy in your voice.
Matt glances at you briefly, and a smirk slides onto his lips. His audacity strikes a nerve and you release a dry laugh, your tongue prodding at your cheek in disbelief.
“Jess was one of the people I was selling weed to tonight,” Matt explains casually. “Chris texted me while I was at her house that he was at this party, and he wanted to buy weed. I told him I’d drop by and give him some.”
Jess. Her name makes your face scrunch up in displeasure. “Okay. Then you somehow ended up coming to the party with Jess and stayed for the majority of the night.”
Matt grins, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. “She was actually planning to go to the party after she saw me. But once she found out that I was heading there, she asked if she could ride with me. I drove her, and when I realised Chris wasn’t outside, I was going to leave. Then Jess said she’d help me find him inside, so I went in.”
You mutter under your breath, the words escaping in a frustrated whisper, “Still doesn’t explain why you stayed.”
“I got caught up with my brothers and friends,” Matt responds simply, and his hand reaches over the centre console to rest on top of your thigh, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers. His touch attempts to soothe you, his voice softening. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” You lie through gritted teeth. “Just wish you would’ve at least told me you were coming, or came up and said hello when you arrived.”
“I’m sorry,” His apology is minimal, but his tone sounds sincere as his thumb draws circles on your skin. “Like I said, I wasn’t planning on staying,” Matt takes a quick glance over at you, that smirk returning. “Besides, you’re wearing that dress I like, sweetheart… walking up and saying hello wouldn’t be the first thing I’d do.”
You hum at that, twisting in your seat to face him, “And what exactly would you do?”
Matt answers without missing a beat, “The same thing I did last time I saw you at a party.”
The low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and your thighs squeeze together to relieve that sudden ache in your cunt, vividly remember that night qt a house party where he dragged you upstairs and fucked you silly in someone else’s bathroom, not caring that the mirror rattled against the wall and belongings off all sorts had fallen off the sink, creating a mess on the floor that neither of you bothered to clean up when leaving.
“I don’t remember,” You lie, giving him a glossy smile. “I think you have to remind me.”
Matt looks out into the open road, “Do you see a bathroom anywhere?”
“Funny,” You roll your eyes, but you lean over to brush your fingers over his crotch. “You can just remind me here—”
“We’re not fucking in my car,” His words make your eyebrows raise in shock, and your mouth drops open with a scoff as you rip your hand away. Matt smiles, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Last time we were in here, you ruined my seats. That shit costs too much to clean, sweetheart.”
You’re bitter as you reply, “You didn’t seem to complain when you were desperate to make me cum over and over again.”
Matt’s laughter fills the car, his tongue clicking against his teeth as he shakes his head at your bitter attitude. The sound gets on your nerves immediately. You scoff once more, crossing your arms back over your chest and directing your gaze out the window, intentionally ignoring him for the rest of the journey.
As the car turns onto your street and your home comes into view, you reach for your seatbelt. Once Matt parks the car outside your house, you swiftly unbuckle and slide out of the car, slamming the passenger door shut so hard that it rattles it again. The sound of Matt’s laughter only further irritates you.
With your house key in hand, you unlock the front door and step inside, feeling Matt’s presence behind you. His warmth brushes against your back, but you refuse to acknowledge it, striding towards your room.
Standing by your vanity table, you remove your sparkly earrings, your focus solely on the task at hand as you bite the skin of your cheek with a scowl.
“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me,” Matt drawls, his voice reaching your eyes. You raise your head to meet his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. He’s leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his lips despite the feigned upset tone in his voice. He continues, “You told me to come home with you, and now you’re giving me this treatment? All because I wouldn’t fuck you in my car? That’s cold, sweetheart.”
You huff quietly, even though you know deep down that Matt’s words hold some truth. You continue to stay quiet, unclasping the necklace from around your neck and placing it back in its designated spot.
Matt’s tongue pokes at his cheek as he continues, “I could’ve just stayed with Jess—”
You immediately bristle, and you whirl around to face him. “You’re not funny.”
Matt’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling. “Got you to finally talk to me, though.”
You let out a forced laugh, and you plant your hands firmly on your hips as you glare at Matt. “You know what? You can go—I don’t care. Go. Go back to the party and spend the rest of your night with Jess.”
“Hey,” Matt’s response is immediate as he moves toward you, standing right in front of you. His fingers reach up to grasp your jaw, the cool sensations of his rings stinging your warm skin. He playfully shakes your head, and a part of you wants to shove him away, but you remain still. “Enough, kid. You know I’d rather be here with you anyways.”
And you do. Deep down, you know that.
But you love pushing his buttons, especially with the thrill it gives you.
Pressing further, you challenge him, “Do I actually?”
Matt’s voice hums with confidence. “Of course you do. You know you’re my favourite.”
You blink at him, unimpressed. “There are others?”
Matt sucks in a deep breath, his grip on your jaw tightening as a playful warning. You can’t help but grin now, pleased in your ability to get under his skin so easily. “You’re a pain in my ass, I swear.”
A giggle escapes your lips as you slide your arms around his shoulders, and his hand releases your jaw to rest at the base of your spine. His fingers put gentle pressure, urging you closer, and you willingly comply as you allow your chest to press against his.
Your fingers curl around the hair at the nape of Matt’s neck, the grin on your lips unfaltering as you continue to taunt him. “Pain in your ass, yet you still can’t get enough of me,” You then mockingly gasp, “Don’t tell me you like me, Matt?”
“Yeah, yeah, you wish,” Matt mutters dismissively, his head dipping low to press his lips to yours in a heated kiss, sending a surge of electricity through your veins. You respond eagerly without a moment of hesitation, matching his fervour, your lips moving in perfect sync.
Matt’s hand glides up from your lower spine to firmly grip the back of your neck, keeping you pressed against him. The sensation of his touch sends shivers down your spine, and you fist the material of his hoodie in your grasp, ensuring that he stays close to you.
As the kiss deepens, you feel a gentle nip of his teeth on your bottom lip, causing you to gasp at the pinch. Your lips part, giving him an invitation for his tongue to slip inside your mouth. The taste of him, the mingling of your breath, it’s intoxicating to you, and you want more.
The force of his kisses push you back against your vanity table, the impact causing a few of your belongings clattering to the ground. But you pay no mind, your focus is solely on Matt who stands between your parted thighs, his hands sliding beneath the bottom of your dress.
“Lift your hips a lil f’me.” Matt orders you, and you listen. With his fingers that hook under the band of your panties, he pulls them down in one swift movement, discarding the lacy material carelessly to the side before his arm hooks around your back.
You yelp in surprise as he effortlessly lifts you up from the vanity table, and your legs instinctively lock around his hips to make sure you don’t fall, but it doesn’t matter when Matt drops you down on the bed with a bounce.
Before you can fully register what happened, Matt’s hand curls around your ankle and he tugs you to the edge of the bed, and you watch with parted lips as his hand moves between your thighs to drag his middle finger through your slit.
“You’re fucked soaked…” Matt hims as he lowers himself down, gazing up at you from your parted thighs. A silent gasp leaves your lips as his two fingers sink into your tight, wet heat. “You had so much to say earlier, and now you’re quiet. Does it feel too good?”
“Just shut up.” You bite back, and a smile breaks out onto Matt’s face, sending you a wink before he leans down. His tongue swirls against your sensitive clit, plunging his fingers into your cunt at a steady rhythm.
Breathy moans leave you as you try to watch Matt, but his free hand slowly creeps up your body and pushes down at your chest, making you fall back against the mattress with a huff. You’re reminded of the dress that’s still clinging to your body, making you regret not taking it off sooner, but all your worries and problems are pushed to the side when you feel Matt drapes your legs over his shoulders, closing him in.
“Fu—ah!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your back arches off the bed. You’re unable to use your words, lost in the feeling of Matt sucking at your clit and the curl of his fingers against your spongy walls, brushing over that spot that has your thighs tightening around his hand.
One of your hands grip the bed sheet, and your other lands on top of his head, threading your fingers through the overgrown strands as you tug, eliciting a groan from his chest. You’re grinding your pussy against his face, desperate for more, and he doesn’t seem to mind, allowing you to use him as you please.
That’s until your legs soon fall from his shoulders when Matt forces them apart, spreading you out in front of him when he feels your climax approaching, and he leans back as he watches his fingers pump into you. The speed in which his fingers move has your legs closing around his hand, and his tongue clicks against his teeth in a sound of disapproval.
“Keep ‘em open,” Matt warns you, and when you fail to listen, his fingers slow down, causing you to glare at him. “Don’t look at me like that. What did I just say?” Your legs slowly part, and Matt nods his head. “That’s right…”
He picks up the speed once more, and he drives his fingers inside your cunt, a grin playing on his lips as he keeps his gaze locked on yours, staring down at your face as he leans over you. You gasp loudly when his thumb rubs your clit for stimulation, and you immediately cum.
The squelching sound of your wetness is hard throughout the room along with your wailing, and your body shakes and your pussy contracts around his fingers. He’s laughing as he fingers you through your orgasm, watching as your body trembles and your hips rut against his hand.
You cry out in pleasure, your body shaking and your brain fuzzy as you slump back against the bed, trying to catch your breath.
Matt removes his fingers from your sensitive cunt, and you watch through hazed vision as he sucks them clean. The sight alone is enough to have a surge of energy rush through your veins, and you sit up to pull him into a kiss. Matt groans when your tongue slides into his mouth, and when he kneels in between your thighs, he takes hold of your wrists and guides your hands towards his belt.
You immediately know what he wants you to do, and you comply. You unbuckle his belt hastily through hungry kisses, making quick work of the button and zipper, tugging the material down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxers.
Usually, you would’ve completely rid him of his clothes and yourself. But on this specific night, you were too desperate to have him to go through with the task, and Matt seems to be feeling the same when he suddenly throws you around.
You huff as the air is knocked out of your lungs when you’re flipped onto your tummy, and you turn your head to the side, cheek mushed against your pillow as you watch Matt through your lashes. He’s fisting his cock, tip leaky and red, spreading his precum around the base.
He tapes his cock on your puffy folds and you squirm, an irritated whine leaving your lips to which Matt smirks at.
You grit through your teeth, “Hurry up.”
“Just admiring the view,” Matt cheekily replies, giving you a wink as he taps your ass before his cock nudges between your folds. “Breathe.” He instructs you.
You bite back the remark that’s resting on the tip of your tongue, and you inhale deeply, only to let out a drawn out moan when Matt pushes himself inside, the familiarity of him stretching out your pussy makes your toes curl and fingers grip the bed sheets.
Once he’s fully seated inside your warmth, buried in you to the hilt, you feel his ringed hands slide up your spine beneath your dress, his blunt fingernails pressing into your skin as he drags his hand back down before gripping your hips, keeping you still as he begins to thrust.
“So wet ‘n tight for me, sweetheart…” Matt grunts, pinching your hips. He lays a firm slap on your ass. “So good f’me. Always so good.”
He repeatedly pumps in and out of you, gradually picking up his speed, and you find yourself moaning with each deep thrust of his hips. You fuck yourself back onto his cock when you feel his grip loosen on you, and your volume increases, mewling at the feeling of Matt’s cock fucking you so deep that it makes your head fuzzy.
You pant, almost drooling, “I wan’ more.”
“More?” Matt repeats with a chuckle, and his lips curl into a grin as he watches your ass bounce back on his cock. “I’m already deep inside your guts. What more could you possibly want?”
You give him a dark glare in warning, “Matt—”
“You already cum once too,” Matt tsks, and you feel his hand slip around your waist to slot between your thighs. You shiver when you feel the pads of his ringed fingers brush over your clit. “Fucking greedy, kid. You take, take, take…”
You gasp as his fingers start rubbing slow circles, and your pussy clamps around his cock. “Ah!”
“Good thing I’ll always give you what you want, right?”
Your mouth drops open, and your eyebrows knit together from the stimulation of Matt’s cock fucking into you and his fingers rubbing at your clit, the pleasure building. He’s grunting loudly behind you, his free hand giving harsh slaps to your ass and soothing over the sore area.
It surprises you when Matt’s hips start to slow down for a moment, and he bends over you to press a wet smooch to your cheek. You crane your neck awkwardly to capture his lips in a kiss, only lasting a few seconds before he straightens back up and resumes his pace.
“Good cum for me, sweetheart?” Matt asks when he feels the walls of your cunt flutter around him, knowing all too well. You nod your head quickly, and Matt smiles as he pinches your clit, eliciting a squeal from you. “Hold it.”
You gape at him, “Ho—you’re joking?”
He raises an eyebrow, “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“I can’t wait!!” You hiss, shaking your head quickly, already feeling the pleasure build up in your tummy.
All Matt does is laugh at you, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he mutters about you always getting what you want, and you go to snap back to defend yourself, but the words fail to come out of your mouth when you feel his cock swell inside of your cunt, and with one harsh thrust of his hips, you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name.
He curses under his breath, trying his best to keep the momentum as he pushes further into your tightening walls, only for his orgasm to hit harshly. He’s hips jerk, his cock pumping you full of cum, and he’s breathing heavily as his hands rub your sides.
You’re sweaty and sticky, immediately regretting not taking off your dress the second he had you against the vanity table earlier. You grunt at the ache in your hips and lower back as Matt pulls his cock out of you, and you slump to the bed with a huff, allowing your body to relax while muttering quiet complaints.
Matt chuckles at your antics, and he reaches out, pressing his fingers into your lower back to massage you and you grin happily, melting at his touch.
“Spoilt,” Matt states, and you lift your hand to give him the middle finger in retaliation. Matt grins and continues his ministrations for a few more minutes before he lets you go, causing you to jut your bottom lip out into a pout as you turn to look at him. “Easy, kid. You need to go pee, and then we’re gonna go shower. Get you cleaned up.”
A smirk makes its way onto your face as you tease, “How chivalrous.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He waves dismissively at you, and he stands up from your bed. He offers a hand out to you and you take it, feeling his fingers clasp around yours as he pulls you up, and he wraps a steady arm around your waist as your feet touch the ground. “I still got some weed leftover from the party, I’ll roll when we’re done. Pink skins for the princess, right?”
Feeling smug and confident, you raise your head high. “Right.”
© sturnioz
#©sturnioz#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo triplets smut
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Sugar daddy! rafe who only asks for a little something in return
Endless hours of shopping at your local mall had you exhausted, just like rafe's credit card. He didn't mind it however, he had more than enough to keep your shopping habit pleased.
"daddy, can we go home?" you pout, exaggerating the e. "sure bunny, c'mon" he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, the heavy bags dangling behind you as you walked out of the mall.
He struggled to get the car keys out of his pocket, but nonetheless, he was able to do. He unlocked the car, both of you making your way across the parking lot to where you heard the sound come from.
"thanks rafey" you giggled, giving him a sweet kiss on his cheek, reaching up to your tip-toes to meet his height. "No problem bunny" you reached his car, getting into the passenger seat. He opened one of the back doors, putting all the bags from the mall in there, lying them on the backseat.
He shut the door, walking around to the front seat. He got into the car, putting the keys into the ignition. Once you were out of the parking lot, you grabbed one of his hands and meshed your fingers together, smiling like a little kid.
He laughed when he saw your overjoyed face, his thumb rubbing against the skin of your palm. "you happy bunny?" you nodded vigorously, a large grin on your face. "i'm glad" he smiled, bringing your hand to his lips. He kissed the skin softly, and brought it back to the center console.
Shortly, you both arrived home, and rafe carried all your bags inside, shrugging you off when you asked to help him. "S'okay bunny, I got it, don't worry" he'd said, and you went along with it. He set the bags down on a nearby table and walked into the bedroom.
You were there, getting undressed from the day's affairs. You were ready to just get into bed and sleep, your heels were killing you. Rafe took off his shirt, and got onto the bed, right next to you. His lips were hovering over your ear, his hand gently going to caress your hip.
"do you think you're awake enough to pay me back? for today?" he whispered lowly in your ear, making you shiver. "m-maybe" you stuttered, turning around to face him. Your lips were mere inches away from one another, the close proximity making your breathing hitch in your throat.
"Good girl," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. You blush profusely, his strong hands lying you down on the bed softly, stripping off your clothes. He tossed them carelessly around the room, landing in random spots. He leans forward, capturing one of your clothed nipples between his lips, sucking gently as he runs his free hand down your stomach.
He takes off your bra, his hands sliding behind your back and unclipping it slowly, kissing just above your breast. You whine, irritated. His fingers dip into your lace panties, teasing you slowly. "rafey" you whimper. "what bunny? tell me what you need" he whispers against your lips, his breath fanning onto your face.
"fuck me" you beg, a grin popping onto his face. He gets up, undoing his pants, sliding them down his legs quickly. His boxers joined just as quick, and he got back on top of you. He reached over to the bedside table, pulling out a drawer and grabbing a condom.
He slid it on, and quickly guided his length into you, holding onto you for balance. You moaned, your legs wrapping around his waist. "that's it, that's my good little bunny" He hit deeper inside you, his cock bottoming out. Your mouth gaped wide open, needy moans spilling from your lips. Rafe's pace was rough, letting you feel every inch of him moving inside.
"such a good girl, god" he moaned, his pace getting harder and faster, his hips slamming down onto yours. "r-rafey too much" you babbled, too full even to speak. "i'll say when its too much" he groaned, his hands going to either side of your head. He watched his cock slip in and out of you, wet sloppy noises coming from your messy pussy while he fucked you.
"whose your daddy?" he asked, hitting the gummy spot inside you. "y-you!" "who do you belong to?" "you!" he smiled down at you, loving the way your brain was seemingly turning to mush. "my little cock slut" he grabbed your chin, squishing your cheeks together. Your walls clenched around him, making him groan. "you close bunny?" "m-mhm!"
"come on this cock bunny" he rubbed your clit harshly, his fingers guiding you into an orgasm. Your moans went up a pitch, and you squealed as you came on him. "that's my sweet little bunny, know just lie still, I still need to come" you nodded, holding onto his back as he still thrust into you, seeking his own release.
Your nails scratched along his back, a short groan emitting from him as his dick began to twitch inside. "shit bunny, your pussy feels so good" his eyes widened, and he shot his load into the condom.
"god i love when you pay me back"
#itsmealaiah#rafe smut#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe imagine#rafe cameron imagines#drabble
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the combo "they have to work together and they hit a realization on how its not too bad" + "fuck you" "when" w eddie pleeeasseeee
ty for requesting :D — the kids hatch a plan to get their favorite arcade workers to stop hating each other. it works out a lot better than they thought (enemies to lovers, 1.5k)
You wipe down a few grimy tables — all of which seem to be perpetually sticky at The Palace Arcade — with nothing but a damp cloth and a stubborn determination. You’re interrupted by a finger poking you expectantly in the back.
You look slowly over your shoulder to find Max Mayfield standing behind you. Her auburn hair is parted into two plaits, and her freckled arms are crossed firmly over her chest. She leads the pack of regular teenage boys that typically accompany her here, obviously meaning business.
“Street fighter?” she wonders vaguely, in the place of any actual greeting.
“Out of commission,” you answer in a monotone before turning back to the table in front of you. You keep scrubbing at the stubborn ring of dried soda until she taps you on the shoulder again. “What?” you say with a dramatic huff.
“I know you got it working again,” Max insists with an arched brow. “Just like I know Keith’s keeping it hostage in the back so no one else can play.”
Both statements are only partially true.
Eddie Munson and his self-proclaimed magic fingers (which you’ve begged him to stop referring to) managed to bring the dead machine back to life. Mostly. It lives primarily in the back room now, because there’s no use in bringing it out if it’s hardly alive. Keeping it to yourself, and away from the sticky fingers of middle school kids, is just a bonus.
You blink at the kids with a deadpanned stare.
Dustin Henderson, getting the sense that you’re about to shut them down again, decides to blurt, “We’ll help you wipe down the tables!” You meet his offer with an unwavering squint, wondering how far you can push him. He caves immediately. “And… clean the bathrooms.”
Lucas whips his head to the side. “Dustin!” he shouts.
“What?” the curly-haired boy cowers.
“It’s a deal,” you hum with a proud grin. Abandoning your bleach-stained cloth on the wiped-down table, you walk through the group of teenagers and towards the back hallway. “Follow me,” you usher unenthusiastically.
You find that the dead machine is still, in fact, dead when you burst into the back room with a gaggle of high schoolers behind you.
Eddie’s popped open the bottom compartment to try and bring it to life again. He lies on his back with the top half of his body swallowed in the machine, working on the inside wires with lanky, tattooed arms. The hem of his shirt rides slightly upward, revealing the softness of his stomach and the trail of hair sprinkled there.
With your senses partially delayed by the strangely pretty sight, you don’t catch the kids running out of the room until they slam the door in your face. You rattle the metal knob with an aggressive hand. It refuses to budge.
“Ugh— You little shits!” you shout at the closed door.
Eddie, startled by the sudden chaos, bangs his head on the machine when he sits up. “Shit,” he grimaces once he’s fully in view again. He rubs at the top of his skull and squints over at you. “What the hell’s going on?”
“They locked us in here,” you grouse.
“Who?” the boy wonders with his face twisted in confusion and very distant disgust. “Why?”
“You’re not coming out until you kiss and make up,” you hear Dustin Henderson instruct, though his lisp is mostly muffled through the shut door.
“When I get out of here, you guys are dead,” you threaten in a monotone to the out-of-sight teens. “You know that, right?”
“We’ll take that risk,” Lucas snickers.
You huff when you hear them shuffle down the hall again, leaning your weight on the locked door with your eyes fluttered shut. Eddie just watches you, still sitting in the same position on the vibrantly patterned carpet. “I’m confused…” he mumbles after a few seconds of heavy silence.
“Unsurprising,” you scoff.
Eddie laughs to himself. The boyish sound strikes nothing short of inhuman rage in your chest. An impossible fire to breathe through. “Well, you’re particularly bitchy this morning,” he lilts and rises from the ground.
“I’m supposed to be working, but instead, I’m stuck in here with you,” you deadpan. “So I think I’m allowed to be a little bitchy right now, Munson.”
“Well… I’m on break, so…” He flashes you a stupid pink grin as he reaches for the outdated Pacman machine, which has conveniently plated his PB&J. He plucks the sandwich from the napkin it sits on and takes a sloppy bite. Jelly smears along the corner of his mouth. Your face swirls with disgust at the sight.
You turn back around and bang at the door with a closed fist. “Alright! You can let us out now!” you yell, hoping someone can hear you. “This isn’t funny anymore!”
“Stop trying. It’s too late,” Eddie mumbles with his mouth full. “They’re long gone. Probably for the next several hours… Either until Dustin beats his Dragon’s Lair high score or until one of them gets home and thinks to themselves… ‘Wait. I feel like I forgot something…’”
He rambles mindlessly to himself while he tugs the brown crust off his sandwich. He pops the piece of bread into his mouth and flits his gaze back to you. He finds you swallowing down a smile. ‘Cause you refuse to let the freak make you laugh.
“Whatever. I’m not taking the fall for this,” you huff and shake your head.
You sit on the cracked pleather stool across the room from Eddie, in front of a deconstructed machine. The boy scoffs at your dramatics. “Shut up. Keith loves you. We both know I’m gonna be the one getting blamed for this shit.”
“Good.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “This is your fault somehow.”
“Trust me, sweetheart. This isn’t any better for me than it is for you.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”
Eddie downs the rest of his sandwich in another too big bite. “Getting locked in a room with the Princess of Hawkins High isn’t exactly a bucket list item for me,” he says through the mouthful, then licks peanut butter off the pad of his thumb. “It’s more of a waking nightmare, honestly.”
You try hard to stay composed. You know he’s just fishing for a response. He wants you to be angry, and the problem is it’s working. You break before you mean to. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you bite, eyes narrowed in a challenging squint.
The boy approaches you with a tightlipped smile. He peers at you beneath his lashes, half-hidden in his hair as he flashes you an innocent look. “When?” he quips.
He towers over you while you stay sitting, scowling up at him with an emotionless glare. “You’re insufferable,” you deadpan after a few long moments.
Eddie’s grin widens. “I know.”
“And I hate you,” you press, just to really drive it home.
You might be overcompensating. Just a little. Almost like you’re prefacing what you know you’re about to do. ‘Cause he’s close enough to kiss and too pretty for his own good. The proximity is maddening.
“Wanna makeout about it?” Eddie smirks.
You don’t humor him with a response. You just grab him by the neck of his Palace Arcade tee and drag his mouth down to yours. The kiss is full of tongue and teeth, passionate with hate and a lingering fury.
His lips are softer than flower petals and taste faintly of sweet jelly. He kisses you with his delicate mouth, hard enough to knock you into the broken machine behind you. He holds the wooden edge of it with one ringed hand and cradles the back of your neck with the other. The thing hits the wall every time his tongue swipes against your own.
His touch is achingly loud. The rattling of the door knob across the room almost goes unheard. You hear the comically loud squeal of rusted hinges and push apart from each other like you’ve suddenly caught the plague.
You swipe Eddie’s spit from your mouth with the back of your hand as Keith bursts into the room — with wide-eyed teenagers standing behind him.
“What the hell!” Eddie gapes, lips rosy and softly swollen.
“Sorry…” Lucas winces. “We thought we heard banging.”
“I told them not to bother you,” Max chirps knowingly from behind him.
“We were scared you guys we’re, like, actually fist fighting or something,” Mike confesses.
You rise from the stool, keeping several conspicuous inches between you and Eddie. You nod and pull your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “Well, we were actually, so…”
“Fist fighting?” Dustin echoes.
“Yep.”
“With… your mouths?”
You swallow hard. “…Uh-huh.”
Silence lulls over the tiny backroom, making it feel that much more suffocating. You decide to make your escape with a heavy sigh, shoving past the bodies in the doorway without so much as a look their way.
Eddie follows behind you — not because he’s on the same mission, but because your ass looks really good in those jeans.
“God…” Keith grumbles behind him, in his signature slurred monotone. “This is so coming out of your paychecks.”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble
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