#pollen fic
Text
Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes
Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here
Word count: 7,500+
Synopsis: Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…
Warnings: Doflamingo x f!reader, NSFW, 18+, Mdni, smut, pollen fic, Pollen!Doffy x Unaffected!reader, dubcon, size difference (Doffy is 10’, reader is 5’+), degradation - Doffy receiving, yandere Doffy, Doffy is a brat, mentions of drugging, mention of poison, Doflamingo is a conniving bastard, swearing, choking - Doffy receiving, Doflamingo is his own warning, Doffy begs, toxic relationship, Doffy is infatuated, love confession, marriage proposal. ‘Mi amor,’ ‘Mami,’ femme titles used for reader.
Notes: this may not be everyone's cuppa, and it was absolutely something different I decided to try for pollen. Please read the warnings before reading the fic.
Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @nerium-lil @writingmysanity
Sitting at the lengthy dining table, Donquixote Doflamingo extended his glass out towards the gathering of eclectic individuals. Each person present had an array of wealth, titles and reputation; all represented with their names embroidered into their napkins and painted into their drinking glasses.
Doflamingo had planned everything perfectly. He had plotted each element of the meal to have everyone relax into the welcoming environment: keeping the air light and merry. There was not a fork out of place, nor a knife unaccounted for. He wanted the mood light enough to have you not suspecting a thing to go wrong.
And everything was going exceptionally well, all according to his plan.
“To a long and healthy relationship between us all,” Doflamingo's smirk grew on his face, him turning to you with a small wink, “And to casting aside differences in the face of humility. Salud.”
“Salud,” you and the crowd repeated in unison, all arms extended with beverages in hand.
Your glasses all contained gold letters depicting your names and titles on the rim. The servers ensured the liquid was all topped up with your chosen beverage for the night. Your choice? Whisky, neat with no frills nor ice to taint the liquid. Just like your host, Donquixote Doflamingo.
All according to your plan.
As soon as you received an invitation to attend this dinner party, you knew Doflamingo was planning something sinister for you. His silly little mind games he used to attempt to get the better of you were always centric to his plans. To embarrass you, to humiliate you, to harm you, to ridicule you: this was always the aim. And you had had just about enough of this torment.
Getting information out of his menagerie of guards and house staff was simple enough. Offer them enough Berry, and their lips would never stop moving. Hearing Doflamingo’s disappearance in the town square, halting over a small shop stocked with pills and powders, had you mortified at his cruel fate he had in store for the evening.
You expected poison to meet with your lips the moment you raised your glass to meet them. Your little game would rise to the greatest crescendo yet, you clutching at your rapidly closing throat and pleading for reprieve. Considering Doflamingo was the one to purchase the powdered poison, he would likely only offer you the antidote if you begged for it.
In lieu of following through with the action of swallowing a heaping gulp of poisoned whiskey, you decided to give the pink-feathered bastard a taste of his own medicine. You reap what you sow, was how you figured it.
“Fuck around and find out,” you chanted internally. Your soft, knowing smile drew over your features; watching Doflamingo drain the contents from the glass in his hand with gusto. You mirrored his action, downing the liquid in a single gulp.
Doflamingo shot you a smirk, watching your face for any immediate changes to your body. A flush of your cheeks, a dilation of your pupils, your lips parting and becoming both drier and filling with saliva in unison. He was shocked when you returned his smile: only warmth being offered to him from your place across the dining table before turning to the woman beside you.
He initially thought drugging you with a form of poison would be a hilarious sight: watching you claw at your neck and beg for the antidote in front of a room of his wealthy guests gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. But to give you an incredibly potent aphrodisiac with no known cure aside from giving into your cravings? Why, the thought alone made his cock twitch in eager anticipation.
He wanted nothing more than to have you shed your fine clothes of their place on your body, tearing them at the seams and beg for him to finally fuck you. He wanted you so desperate for him, you'd care not of the fact the room was full with those in your same league of formal standing.
As you had always turned down his prior advances of you; he wanted to claim you publically, and leave no room for misinterpretation for his ownership of you. He wanted you to want him, to yearn for him, to plead for his cock with lust oozing from your body in rapid waves.
He wanted you to want him in the same way he chased his release into his palm every night since your first introduction together. He wanted you the same way he would pay concubines to pretend to be you: copying your mannerisms, immigrating your vocal cadence, wearing similar attire.
It was never enough for him. He wanted the real thing, and he hoped this final push would have you want him back.
His craving to have you on your knees and begging for his cock to fill you to the brink with his cum, your neediness flushing your face, the whines and whimpers you'd elicit was too much for his mind to catch up with. He was already feeling aroused by the thought alone, confused at how alite his body felt with just the simple flash of erotic imagery.
Suddenly the room was hot. Too hot. His clothes were too tight, the lights were too bright; causing him to wince behind his rosy glasses. His cheeks tinted with a soft pink, his body immediately becoming ignited with the hot beads of glistening sweat.
He attempted to process the feeling, the stiffness of his erection brushing painfully against his striped, leather pants. Eyes widening and teeth clenching, he hissed out a winced breath as the sensitive buds of his nipples grazed against the open jacket firmly clutched against his chest.
Looking down at the glass in his hands, his lips parted with horror.
Your name was intricately painted in perfect cursive on the rim, each letter sparkling in the light illuminating the room. He snapped his face over to you, watching as your smile climbed up at the corners of your lips.
Remaining blissfully unaware of how much torture you narrowly avoided, you asked the waiter for another glass of whiskey for yourself and your companion beside you.
The glass in your hand had his name “Donquixote Doflamingo” in coiled lettering on the rim. As the waiter filled it, you held your eyes firmly against your conversation partner before you slowly sipped at the contents within.
The cruel reality of his situation now dawned on him.
He had unintentionally spiked himself with the incurable aphrodisiac, in public, instead of you. And now his body was desperate to see his lust satisfied by any means necessary.
“And what did he say, Maria?” you asked the woman beside you, your attention fully fixed on her eyes as she relayed her tale.
“He said: ‘a goddess as radiant as you should have men falling to their knees in adoration’,” Maria mocked in a lower, masculine tone. You bit back your smirk, eyeing her dangerously.
“And what did you do in response to that?” you urged her with an excitement in your knowing tone.
“I let him worship,” she smirked at you. Both of you became overcome with a fit of giggles, laughing at the sheer audacity of her promiscuous nature. You tapped her forearm with your hand playfully, enjoying a soft shove in return from her shoulder.
Of the guests amongst you: Maria and you had known each other the longest. Both of you felt out of place here, being two of the few women present. You were roughly of similar ages, both unmarried and unspoken for. She had a soft-spot for the marines, her latest conquest being the right-hand man of Vice-Admiral Garp.
“You are incorrigible,” you tease her, with a soft, “Atta girl,” added, nudging her with your shoulder before elevating your drinking glass up to take a sip.
“Speaking of,” she returned your gentle nudge with one of her own, “Doflamingo’s glass? How'd you manage that?” She gestured to the cup in your hand.
“Bribed the server,” you smirked, clinking the rim of the cup with the one in her own hand, “Had a feeling a game was afoot. And you know what they say,” you leant against her shoulder, both fixing your eyes on the blonde man at the head of the table.
“Play stupid games,” you both uttered in unison, “Win stupid prizes," concluding with a sinister chuckle,
Your host for the night was hunched over the table, his teeth clenched firmly shut and soft beads of sweat were rapidly now gathering at his temple. This only solidified your suspicions, noticing the silence he was presenting in lieu of his usual conversation.
Raising your brow, you remained focussed on him as the grip his hands perched against the table made his knuckles flash white. Curiosity plagued you, unsure as to why he was not asking his staff for the antidote to cure him. He was obviously under the effects of some kind of poison, his heavy breathing and indicator of such a plight.
Why would he not ask for help?
His eyes meet with yours, his frown deep and teeth grimacing. Quietly raising your eyebrows at him, you gently extend his glass in the air to add further sting to the ridicule. His eyes drew up to glare beneath his pink glasses. His pupils were focussed on your body, noticing every exposed area of flesh remaining unshrouded on the neckline of your button-up shirt. His eyes attempted to undress you, his gaze scorching you beneath his rose-tinted glasses.
Noticing his gaze, you hum in deep thought. Shrugging your shoulders back, you turn to Maria beside you and give her a short nudge. Upon finishing her final bite of dessert, she turned towards you.
“I’m going to go and gloat for a minute at my quick swipe,” you smirk at the woman to your side, “I'll be back once I'm satisfied he's ‘faced his humility’.”
“Be safe!” she giggled, ushering you on with two quickened waves of her hands.
“I'll be so safe,” you mocked her in return. Rising to your feet, you tucked your chair beneath the table and watched as several others did the same. All mingling amongst one another, you made yourself comfortable in a now vacant seat beside Doflamingo.
“Doflamingo,” you nodded your acknowledgement, crossing your knees beneath the table and nudging his calf with your foot, “You've been awfully quiet tonight.” Trailing your toes over his calf, you noticed the hitch of his breath as he balled his knuckles into clenched fists.
“Something amiss?” You asked him, placing down your drinking glass for the night while circling the rim with your index finger, “Something not quite going according to plan, perhaps?” Your smile grew as you noticed his shoulders tense, his breath hitch and his legs began to shake beneath your foot.
Gently trailing your toes higher, you eyed his reaction cautiously. His body was as hard as polished marble, his hair now slightly damp with a small amount of sweat gathering on his forehead.
“Oh, Doffy,” you hissed a small whisper, your foot now tracing the outer edge of his thigh, “What the fuck were you attempting to poison me with this time?” You clicked your tongue at him, pouting through pursed lips, “Doesn't look like it's quite agreeing with you.”
“Out,” he whispered in a gruff bark.
The quiet growl cut through the air like a steel knife carving through tough flesh. All guests immediately drew their eyes over to the pink-feathered host with a snap of their chins towards him.
“I said out,” he snarled, his eyes frantically darting between each member attending the dinner party, “Everyone out. Out now.”
You flinched at his change of tone, jumping back in your seat but refusing to hede to his dictation. Doflamingo felt his blood ignite with a passionate lust he had never experienced. He needed the cure, and he needed it now.
Each guest rose to their feet, murmuring amongst themselves as they hastily fled the space with caution. Against your better judgment to follow suit, you remained behind and rose the glass marked ‘Donquixote Doflamingo’ to your lips and finished the remaining liquid within.
Whiskey burned its way down your throat, the honey-sweet notes lingering on your palate as you placed the glass down once more. You rose to your feet and grasped for the water jug in front of Doflamingo and poured your emptied glasses with the icy water.
“You don't look so good, sweetheart,” you cooed in a mocking gloat, placing the water glass with your name in front of him, “Have a drink, you'll feel better.” Doffy remained unmoving, clenching his eyes tightly shut as his body fought against itself.
He tried to convince himself he'll manage this. He'll get through it without asking for your aid. He'll be able to withstand the potency of the aphrodisiac without becoming a whimpering mess in front of you.
But then you spoke.
And you kept speaking.
Your sweet voice cut into his resolve with expert precision. Haunting him, cursing him with the ridicule that you should've been experiencing. He attempted to control his urges by gulping back a dry mouthful of saliva and concentrating on slowing his breathing.
“Oh, come now,” you scolded the tall, blonde, “Nothing to say for yourself, huh?” You leaned your hips back on the table and eyed him cautiously, “Not even going to order the staff to get the oral antidote for whatever you've-.”
“-There is no oral antidote,” he spat through gritted teeth. He tried to ignore the twitch of his cock at the mention of ‘come’ and ‘oral’ from your lips. The swelling blood pooling in his cock had the shiny tip brushing against his leather pants. He mewled at the small twitch of his oversensitive knob, attempting to disguise his whimper with a soft cough.
The air grew thick and tense; silence swelling in an uncomfortable dance of fluttering heartbeats. After taking a moment to hone in on your thoughts, you slowly inhaled and exhaled alongside externally verbally processing.
“You were going to have me drink a poison tonight that had no cure?” you uttered darkly, “And watch me convulse as I took my last breaths?” Down turning your snarl and drawing up your heckles, you placed your foot on Doflamingo's bare chest and kicked hard. You glared into his shrouded eyes.
“You were going to publicly execute me in front of your guests?” you continued, “My friends, my colleagues, my potential clients? Doflamingo,” you continued, leaning down and pressing your chest into your knee, “You deserve your cruel fate. Suffer, asshole.”
A shaky, large hand slowly drew itself up and softly cupped your ankle. He cautiously lifted your foot off his chest and pressed his lips against the ball of your foot. As soon as that kiss ended, another was placed slightly higher up into your inner calf.
He removed your shoe, casting it to the side of him as he groped at you with his large hands. Hastily drawing his hands down to collect your other foot, he rid the presence of your shoe from you before placing your toes down on his thigh.
Shock wrote itself on your face as a flurry of several more kisses were pressed into you. Each kiss was accompanied by a strangled whimper falling from Doflamingo's lips: breath hitched, brows furrowed and throat humming out the calls of desperation.
“It h-has a cure, mi amor,” he softly whined into your leg, “Just not a manufactured one.” His lips could barely part with your skin, each soft kiss growing hungrier the further up your legs he drew. Humming through several more of his kisses, you were too terrified to truly correlate his affectionate advances to any known experience prior.
Donquixote Doflamingo had always been intrigued by you. Always finding some way to bully, vex and torture you. This was something you never anticipated. His desperation in need for you was now depicted as his tongue raked up your thighs: his moist organ dampening your pants with a long and lustful streak of saliva.
“Absolutely not,” you spat, forcing Doflamingo back into his seat by pressing your foot against his chest once again. “What the fuck, Doflamingo?” He mewled as your heel grazed his right nipple, his body crying out in relief and arousing itself further.
From this angle, you hastily drew your eyes down to the large polearm hoisting up his pants in a perfect peaked tent. His large cock left very little to the imagination beneath the shroud of his leathery pants.
He whispered your name, the last syllable calling out in a soft sob. His breaths were both deep and shallow, his body hot and cold, his mind clear and cloudy - he had no idea how to process these emotions. All he knew is he needed you. He wanted you. He craved you.
Disgust was now openly displayed on your features at his desperation, watching the mighty King of Dressrosa sob and cry for you like a child that had a favorite toy hovering just out of reach. His hands began opening and closing, the strings of his devil-fruit power beginning to hover in his fingertips; only to fizzle away as soon as they formed.
“What were you attempting to spike me with tonight?” you hissed at the blonde king, adding an emphatic kick to his chest to regain his attention.
“An aphrodisiac,” he admitted, choking on his confession as he attempted to withhold it, “One so potent, the only cure for it is s-sex.” He moaned with his hissed admission, throwing his head back and whimpering.
You sucked in a horrified gasp, recoiling as you understood exactly what he was admitting to you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts and mull over your next actions. Hardening your resolve, you shook it off and removed your foot from his chest, before straightening up your clothes.
“Fuck you, Doflamingo,” you spat, beginning to walk away from him and collect your discarded shoes. He spun in his chair, almost knocking the seat over with the haste he followed you with.
“Where are you going?” he whispered your name, falling onto his knees and needily following you with desperate longing. You growled, pairing your shoes and beginning to attempt to exit the dining room.
“Getting you your concubines,” you spat over your shoulder, “Only cure for this is sex, and there is no way you're getting that from me,” Your hand hovered the doorknob, halting as a large hand drew down onto your knuckles and held your hand firmly away from it.
“Don’t,” he huffed a gruff growl, his body leaning unconsciously towards you.
“You want the cure? I'm getting it for you,” you whispered, rage bubbling within your chest, “It's likely better than the fate you had in store for me.”
Silence was once again uncomfortable between you, your confirmation solidified in the quiet of his response.
“You would've had me beg for it, wouldn't you?” you uttered darkly, “Have me grovel and plead for release in front of the entire dinner party.” His hand tightened over yours, bordering on painful.
“Yes,” he admitted in an icy tone. He sucked in his bottom lip, clenching his teeth over them and moaned while inhaling your scented perfume.
“And who was going to be the likely cure for this tonight?” you shot over your shoulder, noticing his face was hovering closely against your shoulder, “You?”
“Yes,” he whined, hovering his body behind yours and caging it against the door.
“You bastard,” you spat, turning around to face him and breaking your hand away from his, “You don't deserve a cure for this-.”
“-I know,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees in front of you, “I know, I know. I just-...”
“Just what, Doffy?” you growled at him, “What now? After all this, what-?”
“-I just wanted you to want me how desperately I want you,” he confessed in a single breath, his words fleeing from him with unbridled gusto, “I wanted you to want me so badly, your body couldn't stand another moment without me. And now that I've taken the fucking drug instead of you,” he lunged towards you, clutching at your thighs, “I can barely keep up with how much I want you.”
“Doffy, what are you-?” you began, your breath hitching in a shriek as he ripped off your pants in a quick swipe. “Doflamingo!” you yelped as he buried his nose against your clothed cunt.
“Let me taste you,” he whined, nuzzling against your panties with his nose and greedily lapping at the cotton with his lengthy tongue, “Please, let me have you cry for me. I n-need you.”
“Doffy,” you uttered sharply, nudging his shoulders away from you - which did nothing to halt his enthusiastic advance. He instead circled his arms around your thighs and hooked them over his shoulders.
Shrieking, your back was now placed against the door: Doflamingo's head buried deep between your thighs as he clasped his hands around your ass to hold you in place. Greedily bobbing his head, he began lapping at your cunt with his slippery tongue, paying no mind at all to the fact what he wanted most was shrouded by the fabric of your panties.
With each cruel swipe, a single word was chanted in a penance-like prayer. The word was music to your ears, your resolve crumbling with each whimpered petition. The song of his desperate pleading beckoned you to let go and give into him.
“Please.” He hooked his lengthy tongue beneath the fabric, clenching his teeth on the elastic and noseying it aside with his chin. “Please.” Flattening his tongue, he gasped as he tasted your sweet nectar and swirled his organ over your clit. “Please.”
The ache in his pants was so strong, he could barely take another moment not being buried to the hilt within you. He continued to make an effort to withhold his cravings, to ensure you were ready to take him, as he was twice your size in every way.
Being the giver was not his strength. Doflamingo would take, take, take until there was nothing left to take from his bedmates. He wanted to chase his release, no matter the consequences his large cock would indent while sheathed within a partner. He simply didn’t care about them, but he did care about you. He wanted you to want him so badly, desperate to earn your approval and love. He needed you to know how far he was willing to go to ensure this was as good for you as it was going to be for him.
You barely had a moment to adjust to what was happening to you. Replaying the events of the evening perplexed you with even more confusion.
Doflamingo invited you to dinner with the intention of poisoning you. A poison that was an incurable aphrodisiac that made you desperate for sex with any willing partner. The reason he wanted to poison you with this was because he liked you, and wanted to pursue you romantically. And instead of asking to formally court you, he decided spiking your drink in public was the answer.
You had every right to push him away, to tell him “no,” and to halt his advances. But at each skillful swipe of his tongue, you felt more of yourself melting away beneath his humility. His apology dictated to you with each intentional swirl of his lengthy tongue.
“Doffy,” you mewled to him, feeling his tongue dip into your slick entrance. His nose circled your clit, his skillful organ greedily flicking in and out of your cunt while hooking up within you to climb deeper into your body. Your walls clenched around his tongue, his chin spiriting you towards bliss as he ground your pussy against his face.
“Please,” he muffled into your core, desperately lapping up your arousal like a dog parched for water, “Please, please.” You felt your stomach tighten, his aggressive chase of your high with his lips wrapping around your sensitive bud ushering you to your unravel.
“Doffy, wh-what are you-oh!” your breathy gasp had his hands pawing at your ass, grinding your core against his face harder to urge you closer to your high. Your hands pawed at the wall behind you to brace yourself against it. You found the pit of your stomach wind tighter and shoot sparks down your legs. He moaned into you, expressing his gratitude at your body beginning to give into him and release your inhibitions onto his face.
“Please cum,” he begged, slurping messily and lapping up your juices, “Cum on my tongue. I n-need it.”
Your hands shot down to his hair, clutching at the strands in heaped fistfuls. As the coil inside you snapped, your lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as he channeled his desperation into meeting your needy thrusts and grinds against his head. “Let go, let go,” he begged you, his face becoming coated by your gushing slick.
“D-Doffy! Oh, f-fuck. Oh fuck, I'm cumming. You fucking prick, Doffy!” You mewled his name, crying for him with your eyes clenched tightly shut.
His hair began to burn within your fists, but he truly didn’t care. His tongue lapped up your gushing cunt over emphatically while grinding you skillfully against his nose, lips, tongue and chin. Riding your high, Doflamingo continued to hold you against his face as your soul fell back inside your body.
“So good,” the older Donquixote brother complimented you, looking up at you through his glasses, “Now let me fuck you.” He withdrew your hips from his head, attempting to wrap your legs around his waist and shepherd you over the waistband of his pants.
He pawed at the front button, his cock immediately springing forth and glistening in the light. Eyes spread wide with worry, you shook your head after feeling yourself recover from your high. Your underwear once again shrouded your glistening core, protecting you from a small twitch of interest from Doflamingo’s aching and incredibly large cock.
“No, Doffy,” you firmly commanded, wriggling yourself away from his hold over you. As you side stepped, his hands extended in longing with outstretched, splayed fingers. He whimpered, his body leaning down and shaking with desire.
“B-But I-...” he didn't get a chance to speak, as you growled over his pleas.
“-You pinned me to the wall, and forced me cum on your face after you attempted to poison me,” you barked at him, “And now you expect me to help you by what? What, Doffy?” you snarled intp his face, baring your teeth at him, “You want me to sit on your cock and ride you until you cum? Tsk, pathetic.”
A sound you were not expecting to exhale through Doflamingo's lips at this moment. He sobbed, his lips quivering as his hands shuddered. His lengthy digits hovered over his cock, desperately wanting to chase his high into his fist: only withholding it because he knew it would make his situation all the more severe. He knew he couldn’t cum without external, other bodily stimuli. He needed you to help him, and he bit back a soft sob as his eyes grew glossy behind his pink glasses.
“I need you,” he whimpered, “I need you so badly. I needed you when you were first introduced to me, and I have needed you ever since.”
“I simply do not care, Doflamingo,” you spat in return, his soft sob doing nothing to break you away from your resolve, “The only thing I’ll do for you is get you a concubine to sleeve your cock in, but otherwise I am done.”
“I don’t want them, I want you,” he whimpered, shaky hands balling into his covered thighs. His cock twitched in the air, the veiny underside throbbing with pulsating longing. You fold your arms over your chest, looking down on the taller man with absolute disgust. He held your gaze with his shrouded eyes, disguising his longing behind their tinted hue.
“You repulse me,” you snarled, walking over to his kneeling position on the floor.
“I adore you,” he mewled through his confession, gasping as you grasped his girthy shaft.
“You don’t deserve this,” you began pumping his shaft, flicking your thumb over his glistening knob.
“You deserve the world,” he confessed, a small release of tears began expelling from his eyes. You halted your fisting of his cock, focussing your unrelenting grasp over his tip and squeezing it.
“I despise you,” you spat, using your unoccupied hand to pry his glasses away from his face; throwing them on the table beside you. As soon as your attention returned to his now unconcealed eyes, your breath was stolen from your lungs.
“I desire you,” he whispered, blinking slowly with his lengthy blonde eyelashes. You understood now why he concealed them behind his sinister glasses. His irises were a pastel pink, eyes expressive now they were unshrouded by the coloured glass. There was no lie presented within his eyes, honesty being the only inhabitant lying within. He was a very pretty man, especially with his whole face now presented to the light.
“You make me sick,” you lied through gritted teeth as you rolled your neck, stepping out of your panties and straddling his lap, “You are foul,” you anchored your knees against his hips, placing your heels firmly on the floor beside him, “Obnoxious and detestable.”
“Mami, stop teasing me with your horrible words,” he moaned, “I’ll cum.”
“You’ll cum when I allow you to cum,” you retorted firmly. The bob of his adams apple did not escape your notice, nor did the soft roll of his glassy pastel eyes. You clicked your tongue, lining up your slit with the tip of his cock.
“Don’t you fucking move, Doflamingo,” you barked your orders at him, “You’re a great deal larger than I am, and I am no mere whore you paid to fuck yourself stupid in.” He sucked in a soft whimper as he felt your prior release coat his knob, “I don’t particularly enjoy taking partners twice my size, and I don’t want to get hurt because you decided you wanted to buck up suddenly.”
“I-I won’t, mi amor,” he stuttered, crying out a little with his lips parted, “I’ll be a good boy, I swear. So good for you.”
“Pathetic prick,” you mewled at him, eyes wincing as your body adjusted to taking his tip inside you, “It hurts,” you cried out a little as your body began to sink onto him. Your slow descent atop his cock, impaling yourself on his thick shaft, had your breath hitch and a soft whimper leave you, “And you were going to rail me with it, weren’t you?”
He stooped low, covering his eyes by burying his head against your clavicle. He huffed out his restraint, his voice shuddering as he felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. Wrapping his arms around your back, his fingertips ghosted around your body to trace gentle encouraging circles against your skin.
“Answer me, asshole,” you sobbed, slowly sinking down as you felt the blunt, mushroomed tip begin to kiss your cervix, “You owe me that much.” Anchoring your hands against his shoulders, you braced yourself as you continued to inch your way down his lance of a cock. The girth was almost the width of your forearm, your glistening walls struggling to stretch to accommodate him.
His shoulders shook, his lips finding your collar bone and pressing gentle kisses against it. He winced as he disciplined his body to wait for you to adjust to him, sniffing back a small cry.
“Th-The pollen makes you-... nnnmpph-... Makes your arousal heighten,” he winced at his resolve, bracing you within his arms and snaking his large hand up your back, “You would’ve b-been too far gone to care.”
“Is that what you are, Doflamingo?” you snarled at him, sinking yourself past your limit to suck more of his full length inside your body, “Too far gone to care?”
“I want you, mi amor,” he murmured into your shoulder, nose rubbing against your neck and brushing your blouse away from covering your chest, “Although, I a-am reaching my l-limit for tolerance. I need to fuck you. I need t-to cum inside you.”
“Don’t you fucking dare move,” you whimpered at him, “You’re too f-fucking b-big.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, tearing his face away from you to look into your eyes, “I am so sorry.” His expressive eyes pleaded for you to understand how hard he was trying to hold himself back. His pink irises were eclipsed by his blown pupils, his lips open and panting, his temple bleeding with drops of heavy sweat. He couldn’t help a soft rock of his hips, testing how your body adjusted to him.
“Stop!” you barked at him, “Stop that right now or I’ll leave.” Doffy whined, prying open your shirt with one quick rip, tearing the buttons from the seams and revealing your bare chest to him. The buttons flew over the room, your nipples perking up now revealed to the cool of the air. Your sleeves fell down your shoulders and each inch of revealed skin was immediately replaced by Doflamingo’s lips.
“I’m r-reaching the e-end of my resolve, mi amor,” he confessed, “I-I’m c-close, and I need you to bounce a little on me. Please ride me as you are now, you d-don’t need to take any more of my length. Please just bounce on what you can take. I’ll be so good.”
“Close just from me taking your partial length? You’re so fucking pathetic,” you degraded him, your voice solid and unwavering. You felt the twitch of his cock, his body revealing more to you than he would ever audibly inform you, “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Doffy whimpered.
“S-Stop degrading me,” he attempted to growl, his voice breaking and turning more into a breathy pant, “Stop it or I’ll cum, mi amor. I’ll cum so fucking hard for you.” His whispered confession had you elevate a sinister smirk up your lips.
“Stop calling me ‘mi amor’,” you wrapped your right hand around his throat, your left perched on his shoulder as you sunk yourself down on him, “I’m not your love. You're a conniving and devious bastard, and I despise you.”
“Just like that, Mami,” he whimpered, hands falling to your hips as you began to bounce on his cock, “I know you hate me. I adore that about you. I wanted you for so long, and you’re so, so good.”
“At least your ears work, you arrogant prick,” you released your firm hold on his throat, glaring into his eyes as you continued to take more of him into you. You became more confident in riding his swollen cock, bouncing, writhing and grinding your slick cunt against his pelvis, “Maybe there is hope for you after all-.”
“-No, no,” he begged, pressing his throat against your palm, “No: I’m nauseating, I’m disgusting, I’m pathetic. Please, please choke me. Tell me how much you hate me. Ride my cock while you tell me you find me repulsive.”
“Oh fuck, Doffy,” you bit back your moan, feeling the rapid approach of your second orgasm stampeed within your abdomen. You choked him harder, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you circled your hips on his cock. His eyes held firm to yours, feeling the tangible dislike against him from you. He fought back the urge to roll his eyes back in bliss, his balls sucked deep within his stomach the longer you rode him.
“I abhor you,” you whined, feeling him hold back meeting your bobbed movements. You finally began encouraging him to thrust up into you, your motions now rhythmic and in perfect synchrony.
“I adore you,” he whispered in return, placing his lips against your jaw and tenderly kissing you.
“I f-fucking loathe you,” you felt the familiar sparks indicating the eruption of an impending orgasm. Your pussy began contracting around him, your walls beckoning him with rhythmic throbbing.
Whimpering, your world came crashing like waves breaking down cinder blocks. You threw your head back, keening more so at the fact Doflamingo made you cum for a second time tonight. The first one was against your will, this one you ensured you were in control of.
“I fucking l-love you,” he held his eyes against yours, his orbs glassy as they filled with tears, “I love you so fucking much,” he mewled in bliss as spurts of his hot cum splashed deep within you, “I-I-... I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m c-cumming. You’re s-so good. I love you s-so fucking much. I love you.”
He cried, hot tears of relief spilling down his cheeks as he sobbed through his accentuated release. His lip quivered, his highly emotive eyes looking almost innocent the longer he rocked his hips up into yours. You squeezed his throat, choking him as your pussy milked him of his large load.
The spill of his seed dripped down your legs and onto his patterned leather pants. The blunt tip of his velvety cock continued to kiss your cervix, propelling you into a longer release. Your walls could barely contract around his cock due to the stretch, but each time Doffy’s cock released a squirt of his cum, it twitched back enough for your cunt to wring his shaft.
The twin highs seemed to last an eternity. Spurts of his load continued mixing with your slick and Doflamingo’s prior saliva. You were not sure when exactly it happened, but you found yourself within an almost loving embrace within Doflamingo’s arms. His cock was sleeved completely within you to the hilt, your arms circling his shoulders as you both hid your faces in each other’s necks. His hands gripped your waist, his blonde eyelashes ticking your shoulder as he buried himself deeper within you.
Sunk to the hilt, you remained that way until your thighs began to burn from holding your body up over his thighs. Your pussy began to ache, coming down from your high with his full length still buried within you. Unhooking your arms from his shoulders, you attempted to remove yourself from his embrace to no avail. He held you firmly, not enough to bruise, but not allowing any room for you to wriggle away from him.
“Doflamingo, release me,” you barked at him, shoving his shoulders away in an attempt to reveal his eyes to you.
He held you tighter.
“Doflamingo, let me go,” you spat, trying again to flee from his steely grip. He gripped his elbows behind your back, holding you firmer.
Your panic grew more frantic, your heart beating faster than it did when you rode through your bliss.
“Doflamingo, you will break away from me this instant,” you pushed and shoved him with all your might, only managing to have your abdomen ache at being so full for so long.
He refused.
“Doflamingo, if you don’t free me from your grip right now; I’ll-,” Doflamingo murmured against your chest, halting your wriggling and frantic movements.
“-But if I let you go, you’ll flee,” his voice whimpered, his chin anchoring against your chest and staring his blush-coloured orbs up at you. You felt yourself become breathless beneath the spell of his loving look, feeling all emotion pouring from his eyes onto you.
“Yeah, that’s the point,” you attempted to break from his embrace, only causing Doflamingo to grip you tighter.
“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he massaged down your back, pressing on your hips firmly enough to lock you against him, “I meant every word I said. I love-.”
“-And I meant every word I said, Donquixote,” you winced against him, attempting to pry his hands off you by gripping his wrists. He was far stronger than you were, causing panic to rise within your chest, “I hate you.”
“Marry me.”
Those words shocked you, causing you to snap your eyes up to meet his. Again, those ruby orbs held you captive. You couldn’t believe how expressive they were.
His soul was raw behind those twin lanterns, illuminating his face with the innocence you were certain had long-since left him. Still, you remained firm - the softening of Doflamingo’s cock within you brought you crashing back to reality.
“Never.”
“Consider it,” he sighed, releasing your left thigh and cupping your cheek with his left hand, “Consider it, and you will want for nothing. That’s all I ask,” he rose from his stoop and pressed his forehead against yours, “That’s all I want. All I’ve only ever wanted.”
Using this opportunity: you hastily rose to your feet, the crude squelch of Doflamingo’s flaccid cock exiting your slit prompting you to cringe more than the embarrassment you felt at his profession of love. You felt the mix of fluids seep out of your core, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. He called your name, wincing now he felt empty and unfulfilled without you wrapped around him.
“No,” you retorted, bending down to recover your panties and pants. You wrapped your top around your chest to shield your body away from his eyes.
“You would be my queen,” he tried again, leaning forward on his knees and looking up at you, “Queen of Dressrosa. Queen of my heart. I would have you rule beside me as an equal, mi amor-.”
“-I said ‘no’, Donquixote.” Your buttons from your shirt lay scattered on the floor, your eyes darting around while arguing whether they're worth collecting.
“Please,” he whispered his soft beg, his palms finding the floor as he began to crawl towards you, “Please, I need you. I want you. I crave you. I would bleed for you, die for you, kill for you - just say you'll be mine.”
“Look,” you turned on your heel, glaring at him with enough animosity to halt his low stalking prowl, “The next time you attempt to drug me over dinner and accidentally drug yourself in my place,” you snarled, prompting Doffy’s eyes to fall half-lidded in adoration, “Do not call on me for aid, you won't find any empathy from me.”
You hurriedly thrust your panties and pants back over your sticky legs, tucking your shirt into them as Doflamingo sat back on his knees, kneeling in stunned silence. Without a further word, you made your way towards the large exit, only stopping your withdrawal when Doflamingo tried one final time to woo you.
“You didn't even let me kiss you,” he whispered in a voice so soft, you halted in place to hear him. You turned your chin, glancing at him over your shoulder as he sat in somber silence.
“If you think you're getting a kiss from me after all that-...” you began, fully turning to face him as his head lay hanging low to avoid your eyes. You sighed, finally in pity for a man who resorted to great lengths to gain your attention, “...you get one to show me your gratuity.”
Doflamingo perked up, his ruby eyes meeting with yours with the hope of a child being promised their greatest coveted prize.
In a few hasty strides, you made your way back over to Doflamingo. He continued to kneel beneath you, cock still hanging limply over the waistband of his pants. You grimaced at the flaccid cock, noticing that its limp length was still well above the average size of the cocks you'd seen prior.
You shook your head, taking Doflamingo's cheek in your palm and elevating his face to meet yours. Lips closing in a soft purse, you collected his plump lips beneath yours in a soft and tender kiss. Parting your lips, you gently grazed his mouth with a soft swirl of your tongue. He moaned against your lips, large hands perching on your hips and holding you firmly against him.
Tilting your head, you bumped Doflamingo's chin with your own to deepen it. He sighed into your mouth, allowing you to initiate how much emotion you were willing to press into him. His lips felt warm, encumbering and loving, something you were not expecting to experience from any encounter with the King of Dressrosa.
Even though he had confessed his love for you, the softness he was presenting you with was foreign in comparison to his harsh dictatorship. You swirled your hands behind his head, massaging his scalp in soothing circles. A happy chirp fled from his lips to yours, his smile evident as his tongue collided with yours.
Breaking away from his embrace, your hands raked through his blonde hair affectionately. He hummed up at you, his blonde eyelashes fluttering beneath his half-hooded eyes.
“I'll cherish the gift of your lips always, mi amor,” he sighed up, the sparkle in his ruby gaze. That title snapped you away from your daze, shaking your head and once again grimacing.
“Never call me ‘mi amor’ again, asshole,” you spat hastily, refusing to allow him a semblance of your heart, “I'm not your love, I'll never be your love. You're fucking pathetic, and I hate you.”
“Stop being mean to me,” he licked his lips, his gaze growing dark, “I’m already starting to get hard.”
#one piece#x reader#f!reader#doflamingo x reader#Donquixote Doflamingo#doffy x reader#Doflamingo smut#pollen#pollen fic#op pollen fic#doflamingo pollen#yandere#yandere Doflamingo#one piece pollen#op doflamingo#donquixote#degradation doflamingo#sub!doflamingo
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an extant form of life- chapter 3
OH BOY HERE IT COMES
It's late afternoon by the time Tim makes it back to Jon's flat. He stops outside the door, rests his multitude of rustling grocery bags on the stoop, and pulls out his phone.
Tim: back at Jon's
Sasha: are you sure you don't want me to come over?
Tim: nah
Tim: not yet
Tim: need someone to call the fire brigade when it all goes pear shaped
Sasha: i'll make sure they dig your body out first
Tim: you’re the best
Sasha: you’re sure about not telling Martin?
Tim: don't want to worry him
Sasha: seems a bit cruel
Sasha: to me that is
Sasha: what am I supposed to tell him tomorrow when you don't come in?
Tim: jon and I are doing research on a statement
Sasha: mmhmmmmm
Tim: a real supernatural case
Tim: it's not a lie
Sasha: mmHMMMMMM
Tim: hey
Tim: shut up
#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#writing#tim stoker#pollen fic#ao3 fanfic#fanfiction#phyn writes
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Pollen - tasm!Peter Parker x fem!Reader
Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: SMUT!!! swearing, mentions of experiments? unprotected sex
You and Spidey aren’t exactly friends. He’s the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man whilst you were - quite possibly - the complete opposite. Spidey stops the little guys: the corner store burglars, the car hijackers, the pick-pockets. You, on the other hand, spend your days tackling organised crime, taking down rings of the worst criminals imaginable and outing people of power as the monsters that they truly were. You were both doing something meaningful, you guessed, but there was no denying that your work was far more important.
Despite your starkly different targets, the two of you often bumped into each other. Tonight, however, both of you were headed to the same place
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Spider-Man.” you mock as he swings his way towards you, planting his feet onto the roof beside you. “Wait,” you pause, sitting up and glaring at the man. “You’re not here with them, are you?”
“With th-what?” he shakes his head. “I’m looking for my bodega guy’s cat.” he states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Ah, a cat. Of course.” you jokingly nod along, a sigh escaping your lips.
“Always with the attitude.” he says, sliding himself down the unit behind him to sit opposite you. “I’m guessing some real shit is going down here, then?” he says. “It’s never just friendly neighbourhood stuff when you’re involved.”
You let out a hum in agreement, nodding your head before turning back to your binoculars.
After a good few minutes of silence, you assume that Spidey had swung off into the night to continue his own mission (or, cat rescue). Once you turn your head, you’re shocked to see that Spider-Man is still sitting opposite you, peering down onto the buildings below.
“Don’t you have a cat to rescue?” you laugh, placing your binoculars onto the wall beside you.
“I mean - I did.” he shrugs. “But this seems more important.”
He stands up, his tall frame towering over you as he steps towards you before quickly sitting beside you.
“Do you know what’s happening in there?” he says, gesturing to the building that you had been watching.
You contemplate telling him.
He does the little stuff, this isn’t his problem!
Then again, you could use some help.
“Some sort of experiment.” you say, anxiously pulling your knees to your chest. “At first I thought it was some kind of drug ring. They were always carrying plants in and out of the building,” you say. “ I assumed it was just weed so decided to leave it alone. I came back to check it one night, just in case,” you gesture, Spidey nodding along in agreement. “It definitely isn’t weed.”
“What?” Spidey leans in for you to continue.
“I have no idea - but when they carried the plants in this time, they were in full on safety gear. Suits, masks, gloves, the lot. And the plants were in containers.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” he says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
“No shit.” you mutter, standing up in an attempt to focus back on the matter at hand.
You hear him shuffle on the spot behind you before he gets up, joining you at your side once again.
“Are we going in there then?”
You turn to face him, a shocked expression on your face at his uncharacteristic brashness. Uncharacteristic when it comes to situations such as this, anyway.
“You aren’t worried about the possibly deadly plants?”
“Eh, we’ll figure something out.”
-----
You definitely shouldn’t be here - although you guessed if you weren’t, nobody would be.
The two of you had somehow snuck in undetected, currently finding yourselves in a large, dark room lit only by blue overhead lights. Odd looking plants covered the room, one of the walls completely coated in leafy green. There was nothing particularly off putting about it all except for one thing: the smell.
“What do you think it is?” you ask, uncharacteristically close to Spidey, in fear of what you could have possibly stumbled across.
“Uh- I’m not sure,” he stammers. “Look closely, can you see that?”
He gestures to the plant closest to you, his gloved finger flicking one of the leaves.
With a squint, you spot it. There is some sort of dust, a glowing residue surrounding each leaf.
You look back to the man beside you, surprised to see him pulling nervously at his suit.
“Warm?” you tease, chuckling as you walk further into the endless rows of plants.
You hear him shuffling around before you turn your attention back to the plants, looking for any kind of clue to identify them.
“H-hey, don’t get too close” he says, his voice strained as you stare back at him, an amused smirk on your face. “The pl-plants. Get away from them.”
“Come on now, Spidey. Scared of a few plants?” you laugh, although you can’t help but notice the weird tingling sensation slowly growing throughout your body.
You pull at your sleeves awkwardly, suddenly becoming extremely aware of your clothes against your skin.
The two of you catch each other’s eyes as you frantically start tugging at your clothes, your skin desperate for air.
“What’s happening?” you ask as you become increasingly more aware of your bodies.
An intense heat grows between your legs as you edge closer to the suddenly extremely attractive, masked man in front of you. Your eyes scan his frame to find a large imprint on his thigh, the shape begging to be freed.
“W-we need to get o-out of here,” he says, pulling at the neck of his suit so harshly that it could rip any second now.
You grab his hand as he starts to run in an attempt to find an exit, the warmth of his gloved hand against yours too much to endure.
You reach the door you entered through, only to find it locked.
No fucking way.
“You’re joking!” you exclaim, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your equally sweaty hand. “What do we do?”
You stare at Spidey, your eyes unintentionally moving over his entire body as you slide to the floor in defeat.
“I think you know, (y/n).”
Feeling his eyes on you, you move your focus back to his masked face.
You don’t even attempt to fight the feeling as you begin pulling your clothes off, tugging your shirt over your head in an attempt to dispel the ever growing heat on your skin.
“Is this a good idea?” you ask as you shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear, crawling desperately onto his lap.
“Probably not,” he answers, lifting the bottom of his mask to reveal his lips before pulling you closer.
In an instant your lips are on his, tasting the sweat and saliva and everything good as his tongue searches your mouth for something, anything.
His lips feel as though they were made just for you, although that may just be the chemicals talking.
Unable to control yourself, you grind against his thigh, eliciting the most wanting noise from his throat.
“Fuck. What are we doing?” he pants as he grinds up against you, his hands sliding frantically up your back.
“I think you know, Spider-Man.” you mock as you continue to move on him. “Take this off,” you whisper into his mouth, pulling at his skin tight suit.
He moves his hands to undo the zip, quickly pulling it down before returning his hands to you, rubbing them against your thighs.
You tug at the suit, managing to reveal his toned chest, letting your hands explore the new found skin.
“I can’t hold back much longer,” he breathes. “I need you, (y/n).”
The sound of his voice uttering your name echoes around your head, going straight the bundle of nerves between your legs.
“What are you going to do about it?” you tease, although you’d guess that you were just as desperate as him.
“Always such a tease,” he utters before standing up, lifting you up with him.
You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you over to one of the counters, pushing off several of the plant pots as he plants you onto the surface.
Before you can even comprehend it, his suit is fully off (bar his mask), his hand on his solid, lengthy cock.
Your eyes widen at its size before Spidey’s gentle chuckle pulls your attention back to the rest of him.
“Where have you been hiding that?” you ask, a teasing smile on your face, although your legs pulling him closer give you away.
He gives a playful nod before ripping your underwear from you, the air on your vulva easing the intense heat, if only slightly.
“Are you done being a brat?” he says, his tip brushing against your wetness.
In an instant, any mocking or teasing thoughts are vanquished from your brain and replaced only with desire.
“I want you.” you whisper.
“Good girl.”
With no hesitation, he pushes into you. The two of you make a unanimous sound of pleasure as his cock stretches you - you’re too hungry for him to even notice any pain.
Using your legs, you pull him in even tighter, his dick just brushing the spot.
As he pushes in and out of you, your desperation only grows.
“Harder, Spidey.” you pant, your hands sliding up to his neck.
“Call m-,” he interrupts himself with a groan. “Call me Peter.”
You don’t think twice about the fact the mysterious Spider-Man has just revealed his name to you, only that you want Peter to fuck you much harder, much faster than he currently is.
“Fuck me, Peter.”
Suddenly, his speed picks up and the sounds - oh god the sounds! He’s moaning and panting and you’re oh so wet.
You begin to grind yourself upwards, meeting him in the middle of each thrust as his hands leave all sorts of marks up your thighs and into your waist.
A tight knot starts to form inside of you as Peter hits all of the right places.
Your fingertips find strands of hair at the base of his neck as he leaves kisses all over your chest. Desperate for something to tug on, your hands sneak under the back of his mask, spreading your fingers to pull at his hair. Peter pounds into you as your fingers make their way up his head, your knuckles slowly edging his mask upwards and off of him.
Peter makes no attempt to stop you as you push the mask off of him, revealing his - unbelievably gorgeous - face.
Instantly, your fingers push deeper into his hair as his lips plant kisses up your neck, eventually finding your lips once again.
“Peter,” you moan into his mouth, a guttural noise escaping his lips in return.
“I’m so close,” he breathes, pushing deeper into you.
“Wait for me,” you utter, the knot in your stomach becoming even tighter.
“I-I-fuck, (y/n),” he moans, his thrusts becoming more sporadic as he loses all composure.
You tug tighter on his hair as the knot comes undone, your moans filling the room.
As you feel yourself coming, Peter’s movements become slow, his warm liquid pouring into you.
“Peter,” you moan, your hands releasing his hair, your arms falling to your chest.
Slowly, he pulls out of you, causing a mixture of the two of your liquids to spill out of you.
His eyes scan the room before he finds what he was looking for, picking up your underwear from the floor and wiping any juices from your skin.
You hum in thanks before he tosses the underwear to the side.
“I guess we have to leave them some sort of evidence that their freaky plants work.” Peter laughs. You shake your head in response, a smile on your face as you stand up from the counter.
A/N i had noooo idea how to end this so i hope it’s okay! also sorry for being gone for months, your girl has been working - gotta make that money!
#tasm!spiderman x reader#spiderman x reader#spiderman#tasm!spiderman#tasm peter parker#tasm smut#tasm peter parker x reader#pollen#peter parker pollen#fic requests#send requests#marvel#marvel spiderman#pollen smut#pollen fic
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Desperate
COD Men x FemReader
Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.
Word count: ~3.6k
A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.
Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)
Banner credit: @cafekitsune
You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.
The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.
The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.
You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.
You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…
Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.
No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.
Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”
Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.
“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.
You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-
But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.
“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.
He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.
“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.
His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.
It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?
You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.
The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.
The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?
He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.
He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.
His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.
He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.
“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.
“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.
His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”
Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.
He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”
Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.
“Yes.”
This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.
“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.
You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.
“Well, I did say next time.”
This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.
Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod x reader#female reader#codmw2 smut#smut#smutty#smut fanfiction#smut fic#captain john price#simon ghost riley#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#alex keller#alejandro vargas#rodolfo rudy parra#keegan russ#Kim Horangi Hong-jin#ghost x reader#könig#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#john price x you#konig x reader#konig x you#captain john price smut#sex pollen
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Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 1
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: When you're both exposed to an unknown chemical in the field, things go from bad to worse.
Warnings: prelude to obvious smut, talk of masturbation, talk of unprotected sex, profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires more warnings.
Word Count: 2.8k
Author's Note: Just messing around on here and seeing where I end up. I want to write an absolutely filthy part 2 but if this doesn't get anywhere I may scrap it lmao.
Every. Damn. Time. Something goes sideways every damn time. You want to blame Fury for making the two of you partners to begin with. What the hell did he see between the two of you that made him think missions would ever end in anything other than the two of you butting heads? You sigh deeply and rub your temples with the pads of your left thumb and middle finger, squeezing your eyes shut as you will yourself not to kick Bucky clear across the lab. You know what Fury saw between the two of you, and as much as you hate to admit it, when you’re in absolute life-or-death situations, you and Bucky work together better than any other partner you’ve ever had in the field. Even Nat.
Dropping your hand from your face and opening your eyes, your gaze lands on Bucky. He stands at one of the lab benchtops in the center of the room, his eyes narrowing as he examines an array of monitor screens before him. You can make out an organized table of data along with a few charts on the monitor to his left, but that’s not what draws your attention. The second monitor, the one right in front of him, displays a few words that have you on edge.
Confirmed nitric oxide stimulant capabilities. New formula contains increased quantity of aqueous extract of dried tuberous roots of C. borivilianum.
Shit. This can’t be what you think it is, but with your medical background and your old medical microbiology classes from before joining SHIELD and the Avengers, you know that there’s a very slim chance that you’re misinterpreting what you’re reading. You step forward now, gently pushing Bucky’s arm to move him away from the monitors so you can get a better look at the data. He begins snapping pictures and immediately sending them back to the team. You can feel his eyes on you as you study the graphs and tables. He’s not used to you being this quiet, he knows something’s up.
“What are we looking at?” He finally speaks up, his gaze drawn to the colorful graph displayed on one of the monitors.
“I don’t know.” You lie straight through your teeth, reaching for the keyboard that controls the monitors. You press the right-facing arrow key and the page that said something about nitric oxide disappears, quickly replaced being replaced by a row of video clips, each one titled with a trial number and date. It looks like HYDRA was running trials in this experiment for months.
“Bullshit. Why won’t you tell me what it is?” Bucky asks. His tone is sharp, impatient. He isn’t used to being the one who doesn’t know what’s going on, and it’s bothering him. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek and waits in silence for you to say something, to say anything. You hover the cursor over the first video clip, dated three months ago from today, Trial #1. Everything in you is screaming not to watch it, not to click on it and confirm your suspicions, but you’re here for a reason. You have an easy job here today: break into the HYDRA facility, collect samples and any data that goes along with what they’ve been working on for the past few months, and then destroy the facility on your way out. Sam and Torres planned it out so perfectly, making sure it would be vacant for the next 13 hours so you and Bucky could slip in and get the job done under the radar. They planned it for two months, doing recon and coming up with contingency plan after contingency plan. You need to confirm your suspicions and get as much evidence as possible before blowing the place to bits.
You glance over your shoulder at Bucky, and his blue eyes meet yours with a hint of concern. He hates when you’re quiet like this, he hates those rare moments in the field when he can’t read your mind. What the hell are you thinking? What aren’t you telling him? He knows you well enough to know that you’re nervous about whatever you’re seeing here.
You click the video link and a slightly grainy image of a padded square room fills the screen. The floor and walls are gray and there isn’t any furniture in the room, only what looks to be a set of shackles on the back wall. A shiver runs down your spine and you pull your phone out, typing up a message to Bruce Banner while you wait for something to happen on screen.
You: A chemical compound that stimulates NO and uses aqueous extract of C. borivilianum…is it going to be what I think it is?
As your message sends, Bucky reaches around you, his chest brushing against your back, and he uses the mouse to fast forward the video until people are appearing on screen. You watch as presumably a HYDRA agent shoves a woman into the room, obviously an unwilling participant in the experiment. She doesn’t fight much as she’s placed in the shackles on the wall, but it’s obvious that she’s weak and likely drugged. The HYDRA agent briefly steps out of view of the camera, before returning with a second captive, a man this time. He’s large, muscular, and has a dark look in his eye. You feel Bucky stiffen up behind you, realizing at the same time as you that this man is a super soldier. Your phone vibrates in your hand and you steal a look at the response from Banner.
Banner: Yes.
Fuck. The next two minutes of the video are pure horror, even though nothing particularly horrific happens before you slam your hand down on the spacebar, pausing the clip abruptly. You both watched on as a cloudy vapor was pumped into the room through vents, and then watched on as the super soldier became more and more restless, sweaty, and crazed. As soon as the female captive began whimpering and pulling against her shackles, with her eyes trained on the super soldier a few feet to her left, you couldn’t let the video play any longer.
“Tell me what it is.” Bucky says evenly from behind you. You swallow hard and reach into one of the pockets of your tactical pants, pulling out a device similar to a USB and plugging it into the computer before you. As all of the data and video clips begin to transmit through the device, back to Sam and Torres, you turn around and face your partner.
“HYDRA hasn’t been able to recreate the super soldier serum. They haven’t made any progress at all since Zemo killed Dr. Nagel.” You say slowly, choosing your tone and words carefully. You don’t want to say too much and leave Bucky as terrified as you are right now, but you also know you can’t keep this from him. Not when you need him to understand how fucking careful you’re both going to have to be from now until the end of this mission.
“I know that. What are we here for, y/n?” His tone is growing more and more impatient, his jaw ticking as he stares down at you. God, he can’t ever just shut up and listen. You put your hand on his chest, shoving him a few steps back and walking across the lab, to the glass refrigerator in the far corner. It’s full of vials of a clear liquid, each sealed at the top and marked with a label full of scientific terms.
“They got desperate, and turned to even more barbaric methods of creating super soldiers. They started experimenting with chemical compounds that induce a primal need in those exposed.” You explain carefully. You pause now, turning to look back at Bucky once more. You see realization spread across his face and he quickly comes to understand what you’re saying. It’s a fucking sex pollen.
Static crackles in your in-ear briefly before Sam’s voice reaches you both.
“Banner and Stark just finished reviewing some of the data you shared. This is not something that either of you want to be exposed to.” Sam advises, and you can hear Torres in the background typing away on a keyboard.
“Yeah, no shit.” You mutter, retrieving a pair of nitrile gloves from a box on the benchtop nearby and setting up the small lockbox that you brought for samples. You open it to reveal a padded interior, with enough room for three vials. The rest will have to be destroyed.
“Just grab the samples, rig the place to blow, and get the hell out of there. I don’t want you in there any longer than you have to be.” Sam’s orders spur Bucky into action, and he starts setting up explosives around the corners of the lab while you get ready to retrieve the samples from the fridge. If only you’d known that HYDRA was one step ahead.
It happened so fast that you didn’t even have time to try to protect yourself. The moment that you pulled open the small door to the fridge full of samples, that same cloudy vapor you saw in the video clip began to rush in from every air vent in the lab.
“Shit.” You mumble, reaching into the fridge and grabbing three vials. You quickly place them into the lockbox and seal it, knowing that you’ll definitely need samples to test now that you’ve both been exposed.
“Sam, we’ve got a problem.” Bucky is as calm as ever, though his voice comes out slightly annoyed. Of course he’d sound annoyed in this moment. He’s been exposed to a sex pollen alongside the partner that he can only get along with when they’re staring death right in the face. He heaves a weighty sigh before stalking over to you and snatching the lockbox from the benchtop. He quickly slides his backpack off, shoving it inside, and then heading for the exit, without checking to see if you’re on his heels or not. You strip off your gloves and bound after him. The gravity of the situation hasn’t hit either of you yet, but oh, it will soon enough.
--
Bucky weaves his motorcycle in and out of traffic almost recklessly, with your arms clutched around his abdomen. It’s only been fifteen minutes since you were both exposed but you swear that you’re starting to feel the effects. Your cheeks are hot and flushed under your helmet, your hands are shaking as adrenaline courses through your veins, and your heart is racing. If you hadn’t been on the back of a motorcycle with Bucky so many times in the past, you would’ve chalked your symptoms up to this experience, but it’s definitely not that.
“Loosen up, are you trying to do the Heimlich on me or something?” Bucky spits out, his voice playing in your helmet. You do as he says, loosening your hold and taking a deep breath in. You don’t say anything in response, which furthers the tension between you both. It’s been fifteen minutes of stressful silence and Bucky’s losing his damn mind. He wants you to give him shit like you usually would when a mission goes sideways. He wants you to lash out, tell him to stop driving like an ass, he wants you to say anything so he knows you’re okay. He can’t fucking stand the silence.
He guides the bike down the long dirt road to the safe house you stayed in last night, and you hop off before he’s even put the kickstand down. He watches as you rush up the steps of the small cobblestone house, yanking off your helmet in one swift movement before you key the code into the door and force it open. You’re feeling the effects of the chemical pulsing through your veins, you’re feeling it and you’re trying to keep it from him.
--
“It’s a very complex compound. A nitric oxide stimulant, utilizing both natural and man-made components. It’s basically a super soldier version of Viagra and ecstasy all in one.” Bruce says, addressing both you and Bucky through the video call. Concern and stress are etched into his soft features as he stands in the lab of the Avengers compound, his arms crossed and glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to have to look out for the negative effects, which from the video clips of their experiments, are extremely strong. Take the side effects of ecstasy and multiply their intensity by a hundred.”
“So, sweating, hypertension and tachycardia, jaw pain…” Your voice trails off as you list off the side effects of ecstasy that you know from your previous pharmacology classes. Bruce nods slowly.
“Basically, you’ll feel like you’re having a heart attack, unless you’re able to relieve yourselves.” He summarizes.
“What do you mean relieve yourselves?” Bucky questions. He’s seated on the couch next to you, his brow is furrowed and a sheen of sweat is becoming apparent along the side of his neck. You try not to look at him for too long, already feeling yourself longing for touch and physical contact of any kind.
“If you’re able to achieve a postcoital state, you should have temporary relief of your symptoms. You might have to achieve that state more than once, until the chemical is out of your system.” You can almost hear the wheels turning in Bucky’s head as he works out what postcoital means. You have to reach an orgasm to feel any relief, but bless Banner for trying to put it in a more professional way.
“Have you tested the half-life of the chemical yet?” You ponder, wanting to know exactly how long you’ll both be suffering through this. You wipe a bead of sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.
“Yeah, it seems like it can last anywhere from eight to ten hours in a non-super soldier, but it was designed specifically to work in conjunction with the serum, so it lasts eight to twelve hours in a super soldier.” Bruce’s words are starting to jumble together in your head, adding to the slightly throbbing headache that’s forming behind your eyes. You squeeze them shut and rub your temples just like you did in the lab earlier, zoning out as Tony and Bruce both start discussing the pharmacokinetics behind the compound currently wrecking your body.
“What are our options here?” Bucky asks quietly, directing his question to you alone. You turn to look at him and see his cheeks flushed like yours now, his pupils dilated a minute amount, and his hands clasped together over his knees. There’s no hiding that it’s affecting you both now.
“I don’t know. The only thing I can think to do is lock ourselves in different rooms and try to ride it out.” You say, rubbing your aching thighs through your tactical pants with the palms of your hands. Your bones are starting to hurt in a deep, consuming way, and all you want to do is give yourself a few doses of propofol to knock yourself out for the next eight hours. It’s going to be hell trying to get through this without having sex, especially if pain is setting in only an hour after the initial exposure.
“Okay, so we do that. We each lock ourselves in a bedroom and fight it.” Bucky sounds sure and resolved, like he has total faith that your only plan available will work out fine. All it took to bring out his optimistic side was being doused with a sex pollen and stuck in a safe house.
“I want to monitor both of your vitals through the night.” Bruce calls out, gaining your attention again.
“No.” You and Bucky both speak firmly at the same time, quick to reject the idea. You don’t need a medical record showing how aroused you end up being tonight, you don’t need Bruce or any of the SHIELD lab staff watching your heart rate increase as you touch yourself, watching your blood pressure spike as you near your climax alone. Bucky is thinking the same thing, shit, his heart rate is probably already through the roof as it is, just from sitting next to you. He tries to focus on whatever else you, Bruce, and Tony are discussing but his jaw is clenched in pain and he’s fighting the urge to rip off his tactical suit right there. It feels like it’s fucking ninety degrees inside. The only thing he catches in the last bit of the conversation is from Tony.
“There’s a chance you won’t find any relief in an orgasm alone, Y/n. Bucky will, because his body won’t know the difference between finishing himself off vs. finishing inside of a fertile woman, but this compound is meant to make your reproductive system go into overdrive. You won’t feel relief until your body thinks it has a chance of reproducing, until semen is introduced into your system.”
“Fuck.” You inhale sharply, doubling over in pain both at Tony’s unfortunate conclusion and at the cramping sensation you’ve suddenly felt deep in your stomach. Fucking hell.
Next Part
#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fic#sex pollen#the winter soldier#winter soldier#mcu#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel
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Winter soldier x reader ft sex pollen
Unhinged winter soldier with sex pollen. This is wildly inappropriate (with some fluff?...) but I thought of it so you must all suffer with me. Imagine Hydra filling the room with sex pollen immediately after Buck is wiped, sending him out at in his most feral state in hopes that the winter soldier will lose control and give into the urges they've forced into him. They need him to breed another super soldier since they were unable to replicate the serum in his veins.
As soon as the dust fills the room, his pupils dilate, his tac suit far too hot, his veins pumping so hard they feel like they're going to burst. The straps holding him down release and his chest is heaving, trying to calm down the primal needs hes feeling, pain prickling his skin the longer he stays in the room. He grunts, striding out of the room and into the night, chasing a craving he has to get out.
He moves without a soul detecting him, until a sweet scent catches his attention. Floral, natural, innocent. Fertile. He's suddenly hyper focused on the thing his body is screaming for, following the unsuspecting woman, his teeth grinding through the pain. She enters a building and he observes each window before seeing a lights turn on, her nude silhouette appearing through the curtains.
It takes no effort for him to climb up the fire escape, easily prying the locked window open only to be met with the sound of the shower running. Her scent permeates all his senses and he nearly strips off all his clothes then and there, the pollen causing lust that makes his bones ache. The water shuts off and hes waiting like a predator waiting for its prey, sitting perfectly still while the door clicks open. She gasps and freezes in place and he sight alone makes him growl.
Pathetic little bunny.
"Who-who are you" she whispers, clutching her towel tightly together though it's not like she didn't know. Tears fill her eyes seeing the deadly soldier people spoke about, unsure if he even existed, the very rumor now sitting on her bed. He doesn't anything, groaning at the feeling of his arousal steadily dripping from his cock, palming his erection.
"Please-don't" She shakes her head, seeing his hardness pressing against his pants, his large presence suffocating because she knows there's no where to run. He slips his mask off, revealing his dangerously handsome face, his eyes wild with lust and need.
"But I have to" He grits out, stalking over to her and grabbing her by the waist, burying his nose in her freshly washed hair, deeply groaning at the scent of her bodywash, "mne eto nuzhno, zayka" [I need this, bunny]
"No-I-I'll do anything-" She trembles, squeezing her eyes shut feeling his warm wet tongue lick up her neck as his mismatched hands rip her towel away, pulling her hips flush against his cock. The rough material of his tactical hear scratches her soft skin, making her whimper when when he bites her shoulder.
"takoy myagkiy krolik" [such a soft bunny] He throws her like a doll, her ass bouncing off the mattress, flat on her back back while he undoes his pants, pulling his cock out. She squeezes her legs shut, shaking her head, his fat bobbing length taunting her as he pumps himself while crawling onto the bed.
"It hurts bunny" He groans, forcing her legs apart, her natural scent nearly causing pain as he stares at her pussy. Her button between her legs involuntarily twitches and he pinches it hard making her squeal, the sound causing a drop of precum to spill out.
His head is so focused on getting his release, he doesn't bother prepping her, shoving his cock into her tight cunt, grunting and forcing his length in when he feels resistance. He stars to fuck her hard, holding both wrists in his metal hand, keeping her pinned under him while he splits her open.
"Hurts-too much-to big-stop-" She gasps out her pained cries melting into muddled moans of pleasure, her own body betraying her, feeling her own warmth wetting his cock making it easier for him to slip in and out. "Oh god-soldat-stop-don't-
"You're wet" He hisses, almost accusatorily, pounding her harder, faster until the bed shakes and scratches the floor, the serum pumping in his veins making his cock sensitive.
"I need this-I need it" Sweat beads at his forehead, his balls feeling heavier than usual, the pollen causing his body to produce more semen than he naturally would.
"YA chuvstvuyu zapakh, kakoy ty mokryy, zayka" [I can smell how wet you are bunny] His balls throb painfully, his cock ready to burst as his thrusts become more erratic. He snarled against her neck as pleasure starts to lick up his spine, the bruising grip on her wrists tightening as he starts to pump her full of his load without warning.
She whimpers feeling shame for the delicious stretch of his cock, her cunt fluttering, swollen from his abusive pace. She finds herself flipped over with her ass in the air, her face pressed against the sheets, his cock rock hard again, prodding at her puffy folds.
"Not done-need more" he growls lowly, stripping his clothes off, his body heat dialed to 100. His crotch is covered in cum, a mix of his and hers, the smell of her driving him insane as he grabs her hips and slams her to meet his thrusts again. He has more power at this angle, fucking her like a mad man, groaning with his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the back of his head, only focused on pleasuring his cock.
"Ty shlyukha Zimnego soldata, ty voz'mesh' to, chto ya tebe dayu" [You're the winter soldier's whore, you'll take what I give you] He's at his most unhinged, grunting and groaning, fucking her like an animal, her muffled screams only causing his cock to swell more. "Make me feel good, make it go away bunny"
"Soldat please stop-too big" she begs and he fucks her harder, making her moan, pulling another orgasm out of her body even if she fought against it. His thighs meet the back of hers, rolling and rocking his hips, hitting her cervix until her sweet juices squirt out of her, obscene sounds of skin on skin filling he room. "SOLDAT"
"I have to breed you bunny" He shakes his head, unwilling to leave until he's sure she's pregnant with his child, forcing every bit of his cum into her. "My fertile little bunny" He nips your skin, running his hands over her tummy, imaging it firm and round with his baby growing inside. He loved the thought of such an unsuspecting, sweet angel carrying the child of he soldier, all of his cum making a mess in her pussy.
By the last round, the pollen has started to dissipate and the cloud is lifting. He pants, still rutting into her pussy, something tugging at his conscious, shaking his head when the lusty animalistic haze weavers.
"T-tell me your name" He rasps, his heart beating wildly, loosening his grip on her. She whimpers from pain and to her surprise, he slowly down, still grinding himself in, burying her face into her neck. "zayka, pozhaluysta" [bunny, please]
"Y/n" she whispers, unsure of why she told him, her voice catching in her throat when his lips press against her skin. She's limp in his hold, the smell of sex permeating the room, the sheets soaked with his cum, but nothing more full than her cunt.
"Y/n" He moans, his body trembling as he nears the end of his final release, stilling till he's milked himself dry, her soft body worn under him. Something is wrong, he can feel it, the emotionless control he had before, slipping from his grasp. He yearns to hold the woman in his arms but he can't .Something stops him.
His movements are robotic as he pulls away and slips his clothes back on, memories unfamiliar to him flashing through his mind.
He wasn't the soldier.
He was-
Her soft snores pull her from his spiral, looking up to seeing her sleeping form, fucked out from the way he'd ruined her. He frowns at the unfamiliar feeling of concern he's experiencing, pulling the covers over her body.
"Thank you bunny" He whispers, making her whine in her sleep, calling for the soldier.
"I'm-
He shakes his head, his previously wild replaced with those of a young man from Brooklyn.
"B-Bucky"
-
#soft dark winter soldier#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes smut#dark winter#bucky barnes x smut#bucky barnes x reader smut#marvel smut#avengers smut#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fanmix#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fan fics#bucky fan fiction#bucky fan fic#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x freader#bucky barnes x f reader#bucky barnes sex pollen#dub con bucky
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My Queen (BuckyxReader) Smut
A/N: I have always wanted to write a Sex Pollen fic but every time I tried to write one it didn't feel right. Finally I started writing and the vibes started flowing. I wanted filthy smut but with emotion and feeling and I hope that I achieved that. Either way I am super proud of this and I hope readers enjoy!
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Synopsys: The reader and Bucky are sent on a mission where they are exposed to what is referred to as Sex Pollen. Their feelings for each other are forced to be faced.
Word Count: 6,218
Warnings: Sex Pollon, Friends to Lovers, forced sex (due to drugs), sprinkle of Angst, Bucky, SMUT, SMUT SMUT SMUT. SO LITTLE PLOT.
My Queen
Bucky stood in the back of the Quinjet, checking over his person. It was like a ritual for him, starting from the top he would check every strap and belt, double check each gun and knife blade. His body swayed, compensating for the slight lurch of the Quinjet before it leveled out.
“And we have touched down,” Y/N said from the pilot's seat, with a press of a button her chair spun around. She came up behind Bucky gently tugging on his back harness. The back of the Quinjet dropped down, revealing several structures in a clearing, surrounded by trees. They began to make their way to the larger building in the center. The clearing was shrouded in a dark gray filter as the misty fog creeped its way through the trees, under a sky blanketed by cloud cover, reclaimed by nature. A scan showed no signs of human life, which was little in the way of relief.
They silently approached the front door before stepping into the building. A home. The remnants of one anyway. They entered the kitchen, with a table still made. Flowers in a porcelain milk jug left dead, wilted and dried in the center. A plate sat next to a folded newspaper. Y/N could feel the shift in the air as soon as they walked in. The weight of the secrets of the house, hidden behind the semblance of a quiet life, mixed with the pure evil that seeped from its walls in tendrils made Y/N uneasy.
They progressed through the first and second level of the home. Although every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust each room sat pristine, frozen in time as if the owner just ceased to exist. One of many of Hydra’s calling cards.
They made their way back outside and to the side of the house. Y/N turned scanning the tree line as Bucky yanked and cleared away brush that covered the storm doors nestled against the house. Nature revealed the chained and padlocked metal doors.
Bucky pulled the chain, breaking it in his metal hands. The parts slipped through his fingers like sand. The doors opened with a gut dropping creek revealing a set of stairs leading down into a dirt floor cellar.
“Ladies First.” He waved his hand as he motioned his hand forward, his eyes scanning behind Y/N.
She walked forward, “What a gentleman.”
The cellar was packed hard, the air was stale and stagnant. The wooden shelves that lined the stone wall held glass jars full of canned food.
Bucky walked to the corner, moving a basket out of the way, revealing a hatch.
The ladder led down to a concrete room, with the only doorway being a gated elevator shaft. An electrical box was mounted on the wall. Bucky opened it and began to check it over before pulling the large handle down. It made a large metallic thunk as Bucky forced the handle down. A soft wiring noise began to buzz.
Bucky pulled the metal gate to the side, ushering Y/N into the car, he closed the gate after he stepped on and reached for the hand crank on the side. Slowly the metal gears began to move and creak as the elevator descended. “Why does every Hydra base have a creepy elevator?” Y/N asked as she took in the rust-streaked walls of the shaft illuminated by dingy yellowing lights that flickered as they warmed up.
“Günter did suggest rainbows and butterflies, but as you can see, he was outvoted.” Y/N tried to hide her smile as she rolled her eyes.
The elevator came to a stop as it reached the bottom of the shaft, pulling the gate aside again, they found themselves in a storm of destruction “What is this place?”
“It's a lab, was a lab.” Bucky looked around, “I don't believe I was ever here, but it's where they developed all kinds of fun.”
They began to clear the room, flashlight in hand. Tables sat disheveled and tipped over, their contents scattered. Papers littered every surface like confetti. Various medical equipment and hardware mixed and mingled with the papers, while every box of a computer was shattered or broken. As if someone punched every screen. Several lighting fixtures hung from the ceiling, attached by a few wires, while others found their way to the floor. Bucky held a dangling light to the side, letting Y/N walk through before following.
She scanned the room as she took another step, a loud popping crunch noise made her jump, she looked down, lifting her foot, to see the glass shards sprayed across the floor.
Bucky laughed as he pushed past her. “You’ve been playing to many zombie games,”
“Shut up.” She walked behind him.
Bucky laughed again as he held his arms out, doing his best zombie impression, ‘Brainsss.” He turned to grab her head. “No brainsssss”
Y/N shoved him playfully, "Can we just do this and get the hell out of here?" Bucky chuckled as he clicked on his flashlight and continued sweeping the lab with a smug smile on his face. Y/N wasn't going to lie, nothing about this place made her feel good. She wasn't sure if it was because of its history or its current state, either way she was very much looking forward to leaving.
As they continued into the next room, Y/N eyes came to rest on Bucky’s back. They trailed across his harness, how it spanned across his wide shoulders. The dim lights still highlighted the muscular lines built into the metal of his arm. Bucky paused for a moment, pivoting on his heel to double check a dark corner. His face was concentrated, eyes trained. She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have them trained on her.
She shook her head, focus, she mouthed to herself. With the room cleared they were moving forward again; her eyes came to the back of his head and down his back. They slowly trailed down to his ass, framed perfectly in his tactical pants, the seams accentuating his curve.
Suddenly Bucky stopped, looking up at a mess of chains, “Let’s see what's behind door number one.” He put his flashlight between his teeth as he began to roll his sleeve up his flesh arm.
Y/N watched, entranced by the simple action, she glanced up to see Bucky watching her. He smiled around the flashlight; he reached up with this metal hand taking the source of light. He took several steps toward her before bringing his hand up to her jaw.
“That’s what does it for you?” he swiped his thumb against her bottom lip before swiping his thumb down, pulling her lip with it. “Is it my arm?”
She nodded.
“Or is it my fingers?” Her eyes dilated as Bucky chuckled leaning forward, “Do you want my fingers?” She could feel his breath against her skin as he walked behind her, his flesh hand reaching around, grasping the toggle of her zipper. She could hear each tooth unzip as he pulled the zipper down its full length. The coolness of the metal left a tingling sensation as he followed in the zipper wake, his palm slid down her stomach, closer to her aching core. Her breathing became heavy as her head began to spin.
“Hey,” Bucky’s voice sounded firm, the look of concern evident “Are you okay?”
The world came crashing back in a blink of her eye. Her eyes snapped open to find Bucky standing in front of her, still messing with the chains. She shook her head trying to shake off the ghost feeling of his touch. Y/N took a deep breath, her brow began to pull together, "Do you smell that?” She takes another deep breath through her nose, “It's almost sweet, floral, its faint.”
Bucky looked at her puzzled, the air around them smelled musty and old. Then the realization hit him. "Shit.” With the chains forgotten, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her back down where they came, “Where is that vile you stepped on?”
His touch was distracting, “Over, over there, I think?" He let go of her, "What's going on?” Y/N asked as Bucky began searching the ground.
He turned still looking, “Just, please, we need to find it.”
She walked back over a row and kicked a pile of papers, a cracked vile rolled out, “It's right here.” The end was still intact, the label holding the shards together.
Copulation Stimulant
Y/N’s eyes read over the label, “Is this?” She looked back down again hoping she read it wrong, “This is, oh my god--no-no-no-no.” She dropped the vile again, the realization setting in, her hands coming to her face as she rambled, “I can't do this, this has to be some cruel joke. Yeah? It’s labeled wrong? I can’t actually fuck my best friend…I can't--”
11-197020-43
“Oh, come on now,” As Y/N began to spiral Bucky knelt down to confirm his suspicion, "Best Friend!?" He tried to joke, to keep Y/N with him. "Nat might fight me for that title."
"Stop. I'm serious. You don't understand," She began shaking slightly, overwhelmed as the tears began to fall down her cheek.
Bucky's smug smile dropped from his face as he took in Y/N’s state, his eyebrows knitted together.
Y/N's chest tightened as she looked up at him. “I can’t fuck my best friend because I’m in love with my best friend."
"Sweetheart" The word came out of Bucky’s mouth like an exhale as he took in her words.
“Oh my god, am I going to fuck my best friend, who I’m in love with, for the first time in a dingy old Hydra base." Y/N's mind was moving a million miles a second. A heat began to spread from her core, she took a deep breath.
“Come on,” Bucky gently grabbed her arm, "Not here, let's get back to the Quinjet, okay?”
Y/N shook her head as she let Bucky lead her out of the bunker. She could feel the heat spreading throughout her body, like water slowly trickling down through the soil, saturating each grain as it was pulled down by gravity. It felt invasive.
The Quinjet bay door began to close as Bucky climbed into the pilot's chair. Y/N sat in the back, her breath becoming heavy. "I'm getting really hot."
“Like little pin pricks of heat all over your skin?" The Quinjet shook slightly as it rose into the sky.
"Yeah-h" Y/N said as a sheen of sweat began to cover her face.
"It's hitting you faster." He quickly flipped some switches before getting up out of the chair, he grabbed a med kit duffle bag out of the closet before kneeling in front of her.
Y/N's brow slowly pulled together, "Why?"
"It's designed for super soldiers." Bucky began as he pulled out and cracked a jelly ice pack, instantly making it cold before placing it on her neck. "Which means it's stronger for you."
Y/N felt the sting of the cold radiate, "Okay, okay…okay. What's going to happen?" Her head swirled as she placed her hand over his that held the ice pack, grounding herself. “Be honest.”
Bucky took a deep breath, unable to pull his gaze from her pleading one. "Your adrenaline will slowly rise, until your heart feels like it's going to burst and every cell in your body is vibrating." He flipped the ice pack to the other side of her neck. "It's going to alter chemicals in your brain, driving up your sex drive and arousal." His chest began to heave as he began to feel the effects. “At the same time, it will lower your inhibitions and block all sense of self control.”
Y/N took a deep breath through her nose. "And sex is the only way?"
"No, we can ride this out." Bucky said as he also breathed deep. "It will be torture, an ache of a pain that will thunder through your existence. Every second you resist will feel like one second closer to death, but it won't kill you."
Y/N fought through another wave of heat before responding, "I don't know what to do. It's getting hard to think."
"Yeah." Bucky knew what was to come. How many hours they would have to endure if they waited it out. He dropped the ice pack, now warm, before bringing his hands up to the sides of Y/N's face, pulling her focus back. "Listen to me," He took a moment, “Never in a million years would I have wanted this to be our first time." He let out another grunt as he fought another wave, a smirk appeared through it. "I planned on asking you out, on a real date, before I led you to my bed. To treat you like a queen. My queen.” Tears threatened the corners of Y/N's eyes. Her heart was beating in her ears, and it felt like years as they leaned forward, their foreheads resting against each other. “If we do this now, it won't be like that, you need to know once I start, I will not be able to stop. You will not be able to stop."
Her fingers came up dragging down the edge of his scruff-covered jaw line. “I understand. I trust you, please, I trust you.”
The moment his lips touched hers everything stopped. Bucky physically felt Y/N's body relax as her lips began to move against his. She snaked her hands up his chest and behind his neck before pulling herself off the back of the chair and as close to him as she could.
Y/N got lost in the intense high created, everything slowed down and hazed over. A dull, mind numbing, wave of emotions swirled in her brain as all sense of time was lost till eventually it wound itself into a ball and exploded against the back of her eyelids. The heat began to fade, leaving a chill across her skin. Her head felt empty and tired. Mentally she couldn't string two coherent thoughts together. Her body felt loose, and her eyes watered as a tear slid down.
"Hey, it's over." Bucky was catching his breath as he held her head in his hand, looking into her eyes, "it's over," her gaze was distant.
"Shit." Bucky held onto her, held her close as he began rummaging through the duffle bag, "Come on, there you are." Bucky returned to Y/N, "Y/N, doll, I need you to take this. It will help, can you do that?"
Y/N Glanced down at the small syringe in his hand, "What is it?" The words slurred and tired.
"It will let you sleep till we get back and Bruce can help." Bucky replied softly.
The tears began to stream down her face, "I'm feeling everything. At once."
“I know. It’s the drug, a side effect.” Bucky took her hand, “Sleep will help.”
“Okay,” Y/N shook her head as she sniffled. Within moments of the liquid entering her blood stream, Y/N's eyes became heavy, and her body relaxed as she drifted off. Bucky gently maneuvered her, placing her on her side across several seats. He fixed her suit, now ripped wide open from navel down to her exposed thighs, her breasts out on display. He pulled the sides of the fabric, covering her the best he could before he grabbed one of the packs of the on-board pillows and blankets, ripping it out of its packaging. He positioned the small pillow under her head and draped the blanket over her body before cleaning himself up and making his way to the cockpit.
Bucky listened and waited for her to fall into a deep sleep before grabbing the headset. "Friday, please connect me with Steve and Bruce."
"Right away," Friday responded as two small transparent screens appeared in front of Bucky's face.
Steve's face was scrunched as he slowly woke up, "Hey, what time is it?"
"Two." Bruce replied as he did a double take, pulling on his glasses, "In the morning."
"There's been a situation," Bucky's voice was low, Steve's attention was immediately caught, and he finally took in Bucky's appearance, "We came into contact…with a substance," Bucky looked back again making sure Y/N was still out, "It was developed by Hydra for their breeding program, they called it copulation stimulant, but everyone referred to it as sex pollen." As the Quinet silently made the trek back to the compound, Bucky filled them in.
Bucky tossed and turned in bed, he rolled over, sheets tangled around his legs and stared up at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath he reached over for his phone, the screen turned on showing it was only mid-morning.
He rubbed his face before kicking his sheets off and sitting up on the edge of the bed. He stared down at his floor, his mind taking over sucking him back into that moment. Flashes of Y/N's face, filled with fear, overwhelmed with emotions and emptiness played on repeat.
He blinked away the images as he made his way out of his room. Bucky walked down the hall towards Steve's room.
Steve sat at his table; papers strewn about as he caught up on his paperwork. He heard the knock before Bucky walked in.
"How are you feelin'?" Steve asked as Bucky slumped into a chair, aimlessly picking up a piece of paper, setting it back down, not interested.
"How is she?" Is all Bucky asked.
Steve pushed a tablet towards him, "Medically speaking, she's okay, nothing more than a few bruises."
Bucky looked down at the screen, a mission report, currently on the recorded incidents page. His eyes instantly skimmed and settled on Y/N's list of injuries before swiping through the rest of the report.
"I decided not to include the details." Steve continued as Bucky sat the tablet down with an exhale. Steve slowly set down the pen as he leaned back in his chair slightly. "Buck, how are you?"
"Angry." Bucky shook his head. "For me to go through it again, fine. But not her."
"Did Hydra use this stuff often?" Steve's brow pulled up softly.
Bucky's lips flashed a sad smile with a huff of a laugh, "It cycled through. They called it a compliance tool." He looked at his friend, "Sometimes they would call it a reward."
"Jesus." Steve let out under his breath.
“They had an endless supply of compliance tools and rewards.” Bucky shrugged slightly, "I'm okay Steve, honestly.”
"I was going to go check on her in a bit.” Steve leaned forward and picked up his pen again as he glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Bruce gave her something to help her sleep more, rest is probably the best for her right now, so she probably won't be stirring for another hour or two." Bucky nodded his head slightly as Steve spoke.
Steve watched as Bucky began to slip back into his thoughts. "Hey," His voice pulled Bucky's eyes to him. "You guys will be dancing around each other again soon enough."
"I told her." Bucky's confession came out softly. "How I feel, right before I railed her brains out in a fit of uncontrollable horny rage."
“I’m sorry, what?” Steve sat staring at his friend, “You thought, that after being exposed to a chemical weapon used to sexually exploit their victims, yeah this is a good time to confess my feelings to the woman I’ve been absolutely obsessed with since the first day I saw her?”
"Yup," Bucky popped the p, "In my defense she confessed first.”
“Unbelievable,” Steve pinched, “Why are you two like this?”
“In love? Or Insane?” Bucky asked back with a shrug,
Steve crossed his arms as he leaned back, “Go talk to her you jerk."
…
Y/N’s room was dark, every curtain pulled tight and not a single light was on. She had woken up several times only to roll over and fall back asleep, not wanting or ready to face the world yet. She lay on her belly, letting herself lay there, her head spiraling with thoughts. She grabbed for her phone, the brightness from the screen making her recoil, it was already close to two in the afternoon. She rolled back over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.
“What's wrong with me?” She asked quietly to herself.
She never wanted to experience sex pollen again, it scared her to her core to have her own free will taken away. Her heartbeat picked up as she thought about it, a panic slowly bubbling. She took a deep breath, “We can ride this out.” His words echoed in her head. “I wanted to take you out on a date. Treat you like a queen. My queen.” Her heart stuttered a moment as she took another deep breath.
A knock at her door drew her attention. Slowly she rose from her bed, just as she approached the door another soft knock came. She reached for the handle and opened it to find Bucky standing with a paper bag in hand.
She stared at him, her words stuck in her throat, “Team ordered out, I got your favorite.” Bucky held the paper bag up. “I, um, I wanted to check in and.." He paused as he shrugged.
Y/N could see the anxiety and pain behind his eyes. She stepped closer to him, her hands coming to the sides of his torso and sliding back, as she hugged him.
As if on que Y/N stomach growled and she let out a small laugh. She pulled back, taking the bag from Bucky. “Thank you, I don't think I ate anything in the med bay when we got back.” She turned into the room, “Wanna come in?"
As Y/N walked back in, she flicked on a few lamps, creating a soft glow. Bucky closed the door behind him, unsure of what to do. Her desk was sitting just far away to be awkward but the only other place to sit would be her bed, somewhere he had never thought twice about before as he would just sit down or jump in. Now? He was acutely aware of his actions, and it created a ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
“Bucky, you're welcome to sit on my bed.” Y/N noticed his hesitation.
He shrugged. “I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You aren't” Y/N said as she pulled a plate down from a cabinet in her Kitchenette.
Bucky paused for a moment before taking a deep breath, "What's going through your head?" Y/N stopped what she was doing, food forgotten as he continued. "Be honest."
Y/N turned, leaning against the counter, to face him. She crossed her arms as she took a moment to bring her words forward, "Did you mean what you said?" her question was soft and quiet. "Your queen." She blinked her gaze up to his.
Bucky let out a huff of a laugh, the corner of his mouth pulling up, “I remember the day you arrived at the compound.” He continued. “That morning Steve and I were set to leave to go on a recon mission. We were going back to the Siberian Hydra base; I hadn't been back since the airport incident. I was an absolute mess leading up to it.” Bucky looked down at his hands as he absentmindedly followed the lines and seams of his metal finger with this flesh. “I probably shouldn't have gone.” He paused again. “I had come so far, the words out of my head, a family around me and I had finally thought I found peace. Yet the moment I stepped back into that room, I looked upon that pit with that monstrosity of a machine still sitting there. I lost it. It instantly triggered a spiral of anger and I felt pushed right back down to my lowest existence.” Bucky kept his eyes trained on the floor. “Steve watched as I destroyed the machine, before helping me calm down. We got the answers we needed, well Steve got the answers we needed. When we got back, I was so far stuck in my head, but then I heard this laughter, it was light and contagious.” Bucky looked up at Y/N who was giving him her full attention. “Your laughter.”
“I followed that sound, until I saw you. Sitting at the counter, a smile on your face and I swear I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. For the first time since I could remember I could feel this spark of a flame ignite inside of me.” Bucky continued. “This spark that created light and hope and feeling. It only grew. Day after day. It grew with your kindness and confidence. Your strength and your intelligence. That day you took Steve down, he played it off, but I knew that you had genuinely taken him by surprise, I could see it in his eyes. So, I let myself fall in love, I let that light grow into a raging blaze. Until I found myself trying to muster up the courage to tell you while simultaneously trying not to take you where you stood. Ask me again, ask me if I meant what I said.”
Tears were building up in Y/N’s eyes, “Did you mean it?”
"Every word." There was no hesitation in his response as he didn't look away. "I would worship every inch of your mind and body, if you'd let me."
The world began to fade away as Y/N's heart began to beat faster. Bucky's words swirled in her head as she tried to comprehend their meaning as if she couldn't believe them. Bucky sat patiently watching as Y/N slowly walked up to him. Her gaze uncertain, he could feel the tension in the air, as the line they both were hesitant to cross was quickly approaching.
Y/N tentatively stepped between his legs. She could feel the tug of war between her anxiety and adrenaline as she reached to touch his face. She moved her thumb across his jaw, Bucky could see her mind taking off.
He brought his hands up to rest on her hips, "Look at me." Y/N stood quiet for a moment as she took in his unwavering gaze. "What do you need?”
Y/N took a deep breath, "To be your queen.”
He gently pulled her closer. His lips pressed against hers, a tingling sensation ran through her body. Y/N felt Bucky’s hands gently slide down to the crook of her knees. He pulled her up onto his lap, sliding his hands over her thighs following the curve of her ass, before pulling her flush as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against hers with a gentle urgency as they began to get lost in each other. In that moment, nothing else mattered - no worries or fears, no past or future. There was only the heat of the moment, the electricity between them.
Y/N let her fingers sink back into his hair, tugging slightly, as a low moan tumbled from Bucky’s mouth. “I need more.” Y/N said as Bucky kissed down to the nape of her neck.
He slid his hands up under the hem on her shirt, letting them slowly trail up her sides. Her chest heaved as his thumbs ghosted the underside of her breasts.
She pulled herself off him, sliding herself back to stand between his legs again, slowly she pulled her shirt up and over her head. He reached up and pulled his own shirt over his head, discarding it. He leaned back, picking up his hips as he pulled his pants down, kicking them off. His length sprung up to full attention and Y/N’s eyes dilated. She stood back admiring Bucky, taking in his sheer size, she bit her lip as her core began to pulse.
“Come here,” Bucky’s words pulled her in like a lure.
As she climbed back on his lap her hands came to the side of his face and pulled him into her lips. A breathy sigh of a moan escaped Y/N. She lifted herself up on her knees, pushing him slightly back to get to the right angle. She could feel his tip resting at her entrance.
Bucky nudged her nose with his, getting her to look at him. She held eye contact as she slowly slid down, feeling herself stretch around him until she bottomed out. A broken gasp fell from Y/N as the feeling of fullness made her body shutter, Bucky’s stomach twitched in response. She slowly began to roll her hips. His hands squeezed her thighs as he let out a swallowed moan. Her pace quickened until her hips began to fall out of rhythm as she desperately chased her release.
"That's it sweetheart," His words of encouragement doused in an aroused tone. He felt her sides flutter. He could feel her pressing down on him. He kissed the edge of her jaw as his other hand cupped the back of her head before slowly sliding his lips down her neck. Grazing over her nipples. Another flutter. Her hand slid up into his hair and gently pulled him closer, pressing her nipple to his lips. The way she took what she wanted made him feral. "Fuck" Bucky whispered. The sound was low and guttural, skittering over her skin like wildfire.
With every heavy breath a moan escaped. With the last roll of her hips her orgasm exploded through her. Y/N's let out a choked moan as her knees clenched together on either side of Bucky. She felt his metal fingers splayed across her back and his flesh held onto her waist.
Still fully seated, She let her head fall onto his shoulder as she attempted to catch her breath. Bucky pressed his lips to the other side of her neck before tipping her head back up to see her face. She felt like she was floating in euphoria.
"Feeling good?" Bucky's hand cradled her head.
A smile spread on her face as she nodded into his hand. "I need more."
Bucky pulled her face to his, guiding her to his lips. Kissing her slowly as he reached his hands behind her, sliding them down her back. He began kissing down her neck and chest as she leaned back slightly. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, feeling Y/N pulse around his sheathed member. He let it fall from his mouth watching the soft skin bounce slightly before latching on again. Y/N squirmed, grinding down, desperate for any movement.
Bucky gripped her hips and pressed her down further as he worshipped her chest. "James," His name came out as a broken whine.
"Say that again." Bucky instructed, "Say my name."
"Ja-ahhhh-mes" He sucked her nipple again as she spoke.
He smirked slightly as he slid his hands under her ass and stood up, Y/N held on as Bucky turned them around and dropped her on the bed. Y/N rubbed her thighs together from the loss of friction. Bucky watched for a moment before Y/N let her legs fall open. Splayed fully open for him, Bucky instantly crawled over, his breath against her sex making her shutter. His lips trailed kisses up her stomach.
“How many nights have you imagined me like this?” A low chuckle came from Bucky, “Not just nights, and not just this.” He sucked her nipple between his teeth, making her gasp, before he soothed the shock away with his tongue. Y/N’s fingers ghosted over his hairline as she slid them back into his hair, he looked up at her and his eyes darkened as he sunk down and ran his tongue flat against her core.
Her fingers curled, pulling his hair as her back arched off the bed. Electricity buzzed and exploded up over her body. His hands gripped her hips, keeping her from going too far.
Y/N fell further into bliss as Bucky explored her folds with his tongue. Soft moans spilled between her breaths. She gasped as he slowly inserted a finger, moving it in and out, then two, he felt her walls constrict as he slowly moved and curled his fingers. Y/N began to rock her hips against his face. His lips captured her clit sucking softly before pulling back, letting it fall from his lips. Y/N’s mouth fell open as the filthiest moan fell from her lips.
He began rubbing his lips and tongue against her in a smooth pattern that felt like a love letter. Her hands gripped his, slipping back to his wrists as she writhed with him, completely letting him guide her over the edge.
A choked moan came as Y/N’s legs squeezed Bucky’s head. She involuntarily curled up. Bucky wiped his mouth as he sat back on his knees, bringing his fingers up, sucking them clean.
He reached down and grasped her thighs, pulling them up and over his. He leaned back down, letting his hands slide up her torso, up and under her breasts, as his lips found hers once more.
Y/N could feel his tip at her entrance, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
She clung to his shoulders, nails dragging across his skin as he slowly pushed himself to his base. She felt the stretch as Bucky began to roll his hips, slowly dragging himself in and out. He began to pick up his pace, to read her body and follow her needs. Y/N hand snaked back around Bucky’s neck, as he sat back up on his knees, she clung to him as he continued his relentless pace. Y/N gripped onto the back of his neck with one hand as she found his knee with her other hand, propping herself up. There was no need however, as Bucky held her up, with his metal hand firmly on her ass and his flesh arm wrapped around the small of her back. He watched as her eyes rolled back into her head, his lips catch and dragged up her neck before sucking on her pulse.
Y/N’s body trembled as she fought to hold back, selfishly wanting more yet not knowing if she could take it.
She felt her core wound as tight as it would go, unable to hold on to it any longer, she let go. Her body shuttered and Bucky could feel her orgasm pulse around him, squeeze him. He continued, fucking her through, dragging her out as far as he could. He was close and couldn't take it anymore. He let Y/N fall back onto the bed, as he pulled out and finished on her stomach.
Their breathing was heavy as Bucky leaned over once more, bringing his hand up to Y/N face, her eyes glossed over in euphoria. “Are you okay?’
“Yeah,” She shook her head as she let out a sigh, “More than,”
A smile spread across Bucky’s face as he kissed her, “I am going to go get the shower ready for you, is that okay?”
Y/N Shook her head again before gently pressing her lips to his. “I need to lay here for a moment.”
“You just lay here and look pretty,” Bucky pulled himself off the bed.
Bucky walked into the bathroom, turning the water on to let it warm up. He quickly washed himself and cleaned up before setting up the bathroom for Y/N. He pulled a fresh towel out, placing it in the warmer next to the shower. A purchase that at first, he thought was ridiculous but has since rescinded that opinion.
He heard Y/N soft pitter pats as she walked in, the steam beginning to form and build. “All set, towel is in the warmer.”
“Thank you,” Y/N said as she made her way to the shower.
“Don't be too long, your food will get cold.” Bucky kissed her forehead before he left Y/N to clean up as he went back out and continued to reheat the food, he had gotten for her. While the microwave hummed, he stripped the bed and stretched new sheets from corner to corner. Laid out the blankets and pulled them back slightly ready for Y/N to crawl in.
He pulled down another plate for himself before playing up the food. Just as he finished cleaning up Y/N walked out. “Smells good.” She came up to Bucky’s side, wrapping a hand around his arm, leaning against his shoulder. “I am so hungry,” a laugh escaped Y/N, her head moved slightly as Bucky moved his arm. “Go eat, I’ll be right there with some water.”
“Thank you,” Y/N grabbed the plate and took a deep smell through her nose and smiled. “You really did get my favorite.” She said as she settled in on the bed and took a bite.
Bucky sat a cup of water down on her side table before crawling in to join her, “I know. I know all your favorites.”
“Oh?” Y/N asked as she took another bite.
“And I have the rest of the night to figure out the ones I don't know.” A blush spread across Y/N’s cheeks.
“I am looking forward to it.” She smiled as she glanced over at Bucky. “I could get use to this queen shit.”
“Oh, you just wait Doll,” Bucky replied. “I am just getting started.”
-End-
#bucky barnes x reader#buckyxreader#bucky#bucky fanfic#james buchanan barnes#marvel fic#marvel#mcu#steve rogers#sex pollen#smut
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Sex Pollen
masterlist | req masterlist
Play Pretend by @wkemeup
When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help.
In The Dust by @metalbuckaroo
at a shack after a mission, Bucky realizes the ‘dust’ that he thought wouldn’t be effective anymore needs to be brought up. You insist partners are suppose to communicate with each other.
addicted to you by @bonky-n-steeb
you find Bucky to be irresistible after you both get affected by sex pollen.
Left Gasping For Air by @bucksfucks
doused with sex pollen, you & bucky are met with a difficult decision.
Take You There by @heli0s-writes
Sam plays a game called Fuck or Die. It's like he willed it into existence as you and Bucky explore the basement of an old Hydra lair.
Chemical Reactions by @slut4buckysarm
bucky barnes joining in on your solo mission was the worst part of the night. that was until the both of you got dosed with sex pollen.
Daisies by @rebeccccccaaa
Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen.
burning desire by @lanadelreyscokewhor3
after being sprayed with sex pollen on a mission gone wrong, bucky is the only man who can help you. the issue? you hate his guts.
A Piece of His Heart by @thefanbasewhore
Bucky has been struggling with himself for a few months now but never reaches out for help. In order to confront him, you lock him in the lab but only to find out it was on lockdown for a reason and you're now stuck to quarantine with him
only the two of us by @barnesafterglow
stuck together, you and bucky find yourselves in an unfortunate position (or maybe not)
Mean It by @gogolucky13
You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.
Comply by @gogolucky13
With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.
your hands have made some good mistakes : part 21 by @thenhewaswrongaboutme
The team comes home for a pre-Thanksgiving gathering. Everything is going swimmingly, until Thor breaks out the Asgardian whiskey.
Little Bit of Pollen by @simsadventures
You and Bucky are both Avengers, but that doesn’t mean you have to like each other. What happens when you two are the only one present when you breathe in a sex pollen?
Dosed by @moonstruckbucky
Sex pollen? Sex pollen.
keep your eyes on the road (aka an unexpected sex pollen adventure) by @bitsandbobsandstuff
Honestly, this is what Bucky gets for not listening to you.
for your own good by @witchywithwhiskey
bucky barnes is gifted a strange-looking plant but when you, his closest friend in avengers tower after steve rogers, touches the leaves, it lets out a strange cloud of pollen. both you and bucky soon feel the effects of the plant's pollen and, though bucky's worried about hurting you, you know he never would—and you need his help. desperately.
Petals by @biteofcherry
Bucky and reader is stuck in a cabin in the woods.
Desperate by @buckets-and-trees
Enemies? Rivals? It's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the Winter Soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered.
Thrill me, Fulfill me by @samodivaa
You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.
Imagine by @buckyalpine
#bucky barnes fic rec#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes series#winter soldier x reader#sex pollen#bucky barnes x agent!reader#bucky barnes x avenger!reader#bucky barnes sex pollen#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes enemies to lovers#enemies to lovers#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x hydra!reader
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Im begging for a Ghost x reader Sex pollen (dubcon/ fuck or die) where only reader gets the pollen but ghost tries to get her to deal with it herself because he’s so in love and he knew having sex with her (finally) would change everything. Please make ghost be really down for her 🤍🤍🤍
♡ ride or die
simon 'ghost' riley x reader ┃ navigation
୨୧ tags : smut
"how the fuck am i ment to help?" ghost, your teammate spits out at you. his voice echoing around the bare room you two were in. the 'pollen' had made contact with you, meaning you were stuck in this mess alone. the pain from it could just swell you up, it was by far the worst pain you had experienced yet, you were throbbing to the point your clit could fall off. a heat hung over your eyes as yourhead is fill with just a haze.
you whine, or groan. somewhere in between. "help yourself, ill go guard the door or something.." the last part he mumbles, as if he was hesitant about something.
the tears fall down your face silently. the streaks dirty with the grime of the war on your face. you moan out, the throbbing sensation that heats your cunt so sore that you wish you could just rip it off. your clit swollen and needy. "simon- its- jus please! it hurts!"
"cant you just.. i dunno!"
he gazes over at you and your very clearly frustrated face, "i cant help, i cant." you whine as a response as your fingers slip down into your panties. trying to release the pain and the throbbing. "whyy nott"
quick simon, think of an excuse. a one that isnt the real reason for why you, a man fucking heavily inlove with you, fuck you because youre in so much pain bc of a drug? hes so fucking stupid! he thinks to himself as he can hear your whiney grunts and groans as you try to get yourself off.
"uh b- because we are teammates!"
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚
after a while of begging, he had finally gave up. you were layed down on the jard door, the cold surface making your back arch to try to get away from it, ghosts face blushes at you whining and your back arching. he was nervous as he stood below you, slowly letting himself climb ontop of you. your pants were already down, and he could see the shine from how wet you are leakinh through your white panties. the wetness surely would stain but thats not a thing running through your mind as ghost grunts softly.
he steadily undoes his pants, shoveling them down to make it easier to get his cock out. the loud, heavy breathing coming off of both of you increase as you glance down at his cock which sprung out of his boxers. his cock was almost scary, it was gurthy and big. it definitely wouldny fit but atleast you could try? "hurry, si" you whimper, your head flopped back, smacking it off the cold floor.
"im- im trying" his voice shaky despite his cold personality. his face flushed a deep pink when your hands brought down to your panties, pushing them aside and showing off your glistening cunt. "fucken hell" he mutters under his breath.
this was it. this was when he finally knew. he groaned at the thought of being inlove eith you. deep inside he knew he was, but never would admit it.
୨୧ taglist: @xxshadowbabexx // @wonyoungloversblog // @ambitiousabi4288 // @royaltysuite // @tiredlittle-wallflower // @nic-stars // @snowyaddiction // @strawberrychita // @namgification // @pinkslaystation // @hilmiponken
comment to join main taglist!
this is done really badly cause i rushed it. forst sex pollen so i didnt know what to do:(
#call of duty#reader insert#x reader#cod x reader#mw2#ghost#cod#cod mwii#cod mw2#character x reader#sex pollen#cod sex pollen#simon riley cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost headcanons#ghost fanfiction#ghost x female reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#simon riley smut#simon riley imagine#v1x3n's fics ―୨୧⋆ ˚#ghost riley#ghost call of duty
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“You had better tie me up, darling…” very nsfw (f*ck or die) update for Rogue Astarion in part 7 “Bites in the Night”
Astarion x F!Reader |E| 5.5K F*ck or Die Smut
Summary: He isn’t well… something he’s consumed… the blood of a Succubus in the heat of battle by mistake. He needs release… help… or else undead won’t be an accurate description of your vampire rogue any longer.
CW: rough sex, bondage, Sex Pollen Trope but blame those Succubi, feral rutting, blood kink (does that go without saying yet?), implied shared infection, tongue bath, raunchy and yet sweet confessions from his undead lips.
Read on AO3 | Series on AO3 | Master List
Better get your rope…
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨
Sunset always brought the demons out to play… and this time it had been real. Everything about the Shadow Cursed Lands fit the name… but you had all made it at last to the Last Light Inn.
Not without blood spatter and slaughter, fear and relief once victory over the Hellspawn was won.
Now at last, you can take your rest. In peace.
Most of your companions still drink and eat to their heart’s content. Of course, not your Rogue. After the fight, he had looked… gaunt. Tired. You had promised to come and let him feed, but first you needed your fill. He had flashed his smile at you before heading up the creaking stairs.
That was an hour ago. Now, you make your way to those same stairs, only to catch Shadowheart hustling down with wide eyes, Gale looking much the same as he follows.
“Come with us,” they whisper, leading you up the stairs in a hurry.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, anxiety darking your tone.
“It’s Astarion, he’s… unwell.” Gale… always so vague and polite.
“He’s in a rut,” Shadowheart snips back, exactly. “Literally.”
“What?” you startle.
“During the fight, he must have bitten and drank Succubus blood.” Gale rubs his fingers at his temple. “He’s locked in his room, but I fear he will claw his way through the door until he finds… relief.”
“Sex, you mean?” you can’t help but correct him too.
“It’s bad,” Shadowheart presses her lips together. “The blood is ten times worse than the spittle. Like, if he doesn’t find relief soon he could expire. Again. It’ll last him a full day to work out of his system.”
Your eyes go wide, your stomach sinking as well as your jaw. “Isn’t there some countermeasure? Some spell or… or potion?”
Shadowheart opens her hands, a small scroll in it. “Not for him, but for…”
“Me…” you realize. Your body tingles with the idea, that heady mix of fear of death and thrill of fucking with him. It always swims in your system before you go to his bed, but this time. It feels… more… exhilarating. More deadly. Riskier.
“It’s a scroll of Greater Protection… just in case he gets carried away.” Gale’s face screws into a look of discomfort.
“Keep your cunny from giving out on you.” Shadowheart winks.
That sinches up the knots in your stomach now. And by the time your cleric recites the spell, the dust in the air swirling into your lungs, you know you can’t turn back. You can’t forsake him.
You take a breath once they both wish you good luck, reassurances that the spell should be enough to keep you safe… but that they would come running if needed. That’s when Shadowheart stops you one more time, behind Gale’s back. She makes her face shush you silently as she shoves something into your hands.
A coil of rope. It tingles… enchanted probably for extra strength… that it could hold a deranged, sex-crazed vampire if worse came to worse.
That’s when you head up another flight of stairs, your heart beating faster with each step. Especially as you hear the grunts and growls that crescendo as you reach the landing. It’s easy to tell which room is his, the light under the door burns bright… the sounds of his voice raw and feral…
You hover your hand over the knob, sensing the magic that’s sealed him in. But you stop… that sound inside, you can tell already how he’s plagued. Rough, wet, and fast. The slap of his own hand tending to his… need.
You swallow, the beating of his fist on his cock already making you wet. Hells below… if there wasn't part of you that was just… tantalized. A small part, mostly cloaked in that heady fear to preserve your life.
But you feared no danger. And you by now… he would listen.
Maybe.
One last squeeze of the chord in your hand, you gripped the charged metal of the door, throwing it open.
He is naked, sitting on the edge of the bed at the back of the little room. His teeth glint in the firelight, his ivory skin glowing with sweat. Gods, if he had blood in his body, you are sure he would be beet red. His profile cut like the masterpiece he was. His throat bobbing as he swallows, the muscles of his arm bulging as he pleasures himself at a terrifying pace.
The sound as you shut the door behind him finally draws his attention.
He is… wild. Feral. Eyes so dilated, you can barely make out the ring of scarlet in them. His face shines from his exertions, he growls… like an animal… the second he sets eyes on you. His nose sniffing so hard at your scent… you can watch it open and close.
“Out!” He snarls, rising to his feet. That’s when you take in the full extent of his… suffering. He’s so erect, bigger than you have ever seen him. Harder. Throbbing so hard you witness it… where it stands almost vertically. Those intricate veins that usually rise subtly from his length strain dark, a web over his pale skin. “I’ll not hurt you, darling. Not you. Get out! I won’t have you!” He snaps his jaws. Every muscle in his body straining as he stands in place.
As if he’s fighting with himself.
“You will have me,” you snap back. “You don’t have a choice, do you?”
“Of course I do!”
“Not if you want to keep yourself in this realm. Undead you might be, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive… undead…”
That made him smile. Dark, wicked and still slightly manic. But it was there.
His eyes rake down your body, devouring you as he dares to let himself take one step. His eyes fall to your hand, the tangle of rope hanging visibly at your side. “Seems someone had the wisdom to not to send you in here defenseless and you stink of protective magic. Good,” he shudders as he talks. That voice sounding hollow. Pressed. Barely above a snarl. “I haven’t said this to many… but you had better tie me up, darling…”
He groans, forcing his body to move stiffly to the bed. The wood frame creaks and cracks as he crawls in, his rigid frame laying down.
That erection makes your mouth water, despite the obvious agony your vampire is enduring. But you can’t help but be mesmerized by how tall it stands as he pants on the bed. You cross to him, he can’t look at you, holding his hands out for you to bind.
Your hands work quickly, securing his arms firmly together, wrapping them to the scrollwork of the headboard.
His breathing is rough, ragged. His body twitches, shuddering each time your fingers barely grazie his arms and wrists. “Please,” he groans. “If you’re going to do this, then by the hells do it!”
His eyes are wide as he strains to look at you.
Your body aches, sympathy pains twitch down your spine to watch him quivering on the sheets. Your skin feels hot, your own body breaking into a sweat. He’s licking his lips, “Gods, if you go any slower getting something on this cock of mine, I can’t promise your safety, darling…”
You reach for that straining length, the second you wrap your fingers around it, he throbs and groans and twitches. His hips bucking into your hand, legs propped up so he can fuck anything you can get around his cock. You beat against his thrusts, that hardness unrelenting even as you move quicker than you usually do. Looking into his face, you move even faster, his face contorted in agony, his teeth biting so hard into his lips he’s bleeding.
He thrusts and groans and cries as he comes. Spurts of his seed drip down his shaft, coating his already damp lap, trailing milky streams as far as his belly.
But his breathing eases for a moment, his muscles softening just a bit perceptively. And Astarion gives a single contented sigh. “All that with just your hand. You little minx… pacing yourself?” he purrs. “Won’t you at least kiss me hello?”
You give him a small grin, at least he sounds like himself. His eyes are a bit more focused, his voice a bit more silken.
What harm could one kiss do?
You lay alongside him, pressing your lips to his.
The moment you touch, you can feel it, the heat, the lust, and the agony roaring full force through his veins. He’s straining on his bonds, trying to claw you into him. His mouth consumes you, sucking your lips inside his mouth, drawing them deep enough for him to bite. The tang of blood covers your tongue. And his.
He’s frenzied for more, biting you again and again. Drinking the blood that leaks from your kiss. Then you feel it, his legs, untethered, grip around your waist, sliding you to cover his naked, throbbing body. “Astarion!” you cry, muffled by his mouth. But he has you pinned between his thighs. Not unlike that first day in the wreckage.
His erection presses into your belly, he’s grinding it against the linen of your shirt. Rough and aggressive. As if he means to tear a hole in the soft fabric. He keeps you there, humping and riding into your abdomen. Grinding against your mound. Sucking and drinking your kiss as long as you let him.
Not that you have much of a choice, caught in his legs. “Easy,” you breathe, managing to steal your mouth back for the moment. “Easy…” you soothe again, making your body bear down against where he dry fucks against you.
“There is nothing I have in mind to do to you that would be easy…” he hisses. His voice almost sounds… not of this realm. And you press out of the clutches of his fangs. But he just raises his head higher, eyes crazed at the sight of the wounds he’s made on your bleeding and split lips.
“Sorry,” you murmur as you catch his throat under your palm. “It’s for your own good.” You feel his breath rasp, the ragged swallows of spit under your palm.
“The minx has claws…” he growls as you keep his head down.
“Only when you make me use them, Astarion,” you smirk. “Now, if you can keep your mouth to yourself, I’d be more than happy to put mine to other uses.”
“Gods, yes,” he moans. “It’s unbearable, the lust, the need to drive into you. Please put me out of this agony, darling. Please…”
The second you wrap your lips around that fleshy, pulsing head, his cock twitches out of your reach. With a smile and a lick of your tongue, you grip his straining, iron length, holding it steady as you run from base to bulging tip. The bitter tang of his cum fills your mouth. Making you swallow. Making you realize just how used to it you will be before the day of this torment is through.
You manage to still him enough with his squirming and bucking to get your mouth around him. Gods, it’s like stone in your mouth, every vein dragging over your tongue and you suck. You manage to bob your head up and down, avoiding the way he’s thrusting to get more of him down your throat.
The noises from his throat sound pained… agonized panting for more. “That’s it…” he’s hissing as you swirl your tongue around that ridge of his head. “Gods, do that again.” You do, laughing in your throat as you run your tongue over that seeping slit in his tip… so tight as you lap the stains of his cum. You feel it under your hand that works the base of his cock, that thickening, quickening spasm.
He howls, jamming his length into your pursing lips. And this time, you let him. His seed spills down your throat, spurting over your tongue and dripping in your cheeks. More with every pulse as he slowly begins to still again.
One last suck, you swallow him down. Greedily. Wondering if that succubus magic isn’t somehow in your system too. It’s heady, intoxicating. The way he’s glaring at you with his flame-kissed, glistening sweaty face.
But for now, he’s calmer. For now. “Darling…” he’s sighing as he tries to ease into the bed. “You… didn’t have to do this, you know. It’s still such a risk… if I didn’t… care for you… who knows how much of your body would be in one piece when this finally passes.”
“Oh I’m sure I’d leave in one piece… but maybe mostly bloodless and unable to walk straight…” you laugh leaning over him, placing a kiss on his dampened lips.
He slips his tongue in right away, searching for the taste of him in your mouth. He growls again, that throbbing suffering of lust raging beneath his skin again. “I want to see you,” he snarls. “I want to take you naked this time, my pet.” You shiver at the echo of pure desire in his silken voice. As if it doesn’t always drip with seduction. This… you shiver. This was even more wild, unchecked, feral. The need to rut. To fuck.
He looks at you with those heavy-lidded eyes, so dark with his lust, his attraction for you, you feel your own arousal dripping between your thighs. He purrs,“I want to be inside you, darling…”
Your hands couldn’t tug your clothes off fast enough, cursing the practicality of breeches. At last, you stood as he wished. Bared. Ready.
You scramble on the bed, throwing your legs around him. He seems… steadier. Still harder than rock, but less desperate. He strains against his binds, wriggling his lean and wiry body beneath you. So beautiful, every etched line of his muscles, every rise of his stomach, every vein that protrudes in his arms.
You caress him, once on his chest. So damp with sweat. Running your tongue up the center of those muscles, he shivers. The salt of his body makes your mouth water again.
“Hells, are we sure you haven’t ingested the same as me, my sweet?” He croons with a soft little laugh. “Or is this just all for me, darling, to ease my suffering.”
“To keep you alive? I’d do so much more than just lick the sweat from your body,” you taunt back, your voice so low and sultry, you barely recognize it.
He flashes his fangs at you, licking his lips. “Like slipping that sweet cunt on me? Riding me until you are dripping again?”
Ugh… you moan. “Yes,” you pant, “like that.”
The moment he feels your drenched folds hover over his cock, he spears into you. He screams at your union. “Sweet hells,” he groans, voice rasping and sore. “Yes, darling, give me everything. I can take it all…”
You lean over him, your hair cascading down in a curtain as you splay your hands on either side of his head. Barely brushing against his damp, unruly silver locks. You give the smallest rise of your body, the steadiest drag of your walls around his cock. He cants his hips beneath you, timing just right to shove up into your cunt as you settle back down.
A chorus of groans escape you both. He’s sputtering, “Please, darling, again,” over and over. Each time you give him what he wants, only to have him careening up into you harder. Begging for you to go faster.
Soon, your pace is breakneck, your own body shimmering in sweat as you buck and writhe and groan.
His eyes never blinking, those dark black pupils are wide as he watches your face twisting as you chase your own climax, flickering to the swaying of your breasts as they slap together each time you fuck him. They dart to watch where you are joined, where his stiffening cock pierces between your thighs, drenched in his cum and your arousal with every loud, squelching slap you make.
He’s merciless, finally hitching his hips to drive the hardest into you yet. You feel it when he comes inside you now, the sheer volume of his spew, hot and dripping from inside those walls where he’s buried in deep. Your belly aches from where he’s hammering against the end of your channel. More cum with each twitching spurt you feel. He screams like one wounded, his orgasm drawn out as you chase your peak yet. But he’s panting beneath you, catching his breath as he licks his lips.
Even more limp this time.
You’re relieved in your heart, even if your loins ache from the friction, the need to still release your own bliss. His brows furrow, his lips pouting as he looks into your eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be,” you gasp, even as your arms quiver and your thighs shake with the need to continue.
“No,” he squirms and tugs at the tethers. “Infernal rope. If you just let me free, I swear I’ll make it up to you…”
Your mouth waters. He would probably just find a way to break it or chew through that rope if he had to. A smirk plays across your lips, leaning forward to reach your knots. His cock slips out from inside you as you do, making him groan again.
The rope tugs apart in your fingers. Instantly his hands pull free, he shoves you over his face, so close already as you lean forward. He growls, his tongue slipping into your folds. His hands claw into your, gripping at the backs of your knees, spreading you wider as he eats into your cunt with all the hunger you feel raging in his body.
Starving, he feasts on you, and it takes all your strength to hold yourself up, hands splayed on the mattress over his head. That swirl of his tongue… that sucking of his lips on your clit, you already creep closer and closer to that swirl of heat simmering ready to consume you. It sweeps through you, cresting and tearing from your core up your spine.
And then, the world spins. His arms clutch around your legs, throwing you over. You're screaming, still spasming and clenching around nothing. Until your back is sprawled on the bed… until he’s shoved his cock into the last dregs of your orgasm. It makes you whimper his name once more, until you feel another spasm ripping through you.
Only this time, he’s pounding into you, thrust by thrust. Giving you something long and hard and cold splitting you in two as you go limp beneath him. His mouth descends on yours, sucking your breath from your body even as he traps your lips, your tongue with his own.
Manic, driven, he fucks you like one possessed, eyes wide as he finally pins you beneath him. Having his way with you as he chases that required release.
You lay back, still swollen and numb from your pleasure. But he is nowhere near close, not as his hands claw down your side, latching around your legs to make you wrap around his narrow waist. “Gods, you’re so tight, so wet… there have been none like you, darling. None I have wanted as badly as you.” He growls, fingers reaching around the backs of your ass, clamping into your cheeks. He raises you just enough to drag his length all the deeper. Making you keen and mewl and sputter incoherently.
Every nerve in your body hums, every patch of pleasure between your thighs feels him inside you. Gods, if it wasn’t for that scroll, you are certain you would pass out, lying there unconscious while he works this tainted blood from his own body.
By using yours.
By using you.
It makes you smile. Twisted and delighted to be so at his disposal. You were used to his fangs in your neck, his cock plowed into your cunt and his hips clenched between your thighs… but this…
This was intoxicating. Unbridled, unihibited fucking.
For his own sake of course.
That tainted blood and its magic being burned up with each time he filled you to bursting with his seed.
And as if his fixated eyes, hazy with his lust, can read your thoughts, he groans as he thrusts the harshest into you yet. So deep and hard and wild, you wriggle and claw against him as if you could shove him away from where he prods at the end of your cunt. But he only laughs. A laugh swallowed up as he is thrown off by another climax, another spilling of his cum that runs down your body and sticks to your skin. He pants as he looks straight into your face, manic and depraved.
“By the time this is through, your belly will swell from me, won’t it, darling? So filled with my cum, gods, you’ll be leaking for a week. For a fortnight.” He kisses into your neck, your body shivering at the chill of his breath on your skin. “And I’ll have the pleasure of smelling it, of remembering every time you took it so well, darling. I’m so very pleased…”
You look at him, half lidded and panting as he lifts his mouth from your flesh. “As I am…” you hum, running your hands up the ridges of his back, over those mysterious lines of Infernal, to thread your fingers into his damp silver hair.
He purrs as he kisses your lips, a sigh of his satisfaction as he tangles his tongue with yours. You taste yourself still in his mouth. Always so hungry, he is. It makes you wonder… “Aren't you going to beg me to feed, Astarion?”
“Hmm, if the offer is on the table, I’d love nothing more than to sup on… all… that you have to offer…”
He slowly slinks down your body. Your breath quickens, heart racing as he wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs. “Sweet hells, you're going to…”
The lap of his tongue up your seam again unravels you immediately. Your hands fly into his hair, pushing him away and pulling him deeper into your cunt with equal measure. You don’t know which you want more. He’s feeding on you, humming in delighted pleasure as he licks his cum from your folds, his eyes gazing up into your face as you pant and watch. Mesmerized by every dart and swirl of his pink tongue.
He licks his lips, “There is only one thing sweeter than the taste of us,” he purrs, low and deep in his throat, before he laps in a long, wet streak up your thigh. “Your blood, darling, my first living blood, and the last I ever want to drink in the realm…”
Your heart skips a beat, his words sweetening the pain of his bite into your thigh’s supple flesh. “Yes, love, yes,” you feel the wave of your joining… your connection by blood as you now fill him as he has filled you.
“That’s why I call you my sweet, you know… my little treat. None I have tasted… nothing comes close to how your blood sings in my veins like the way your body trembles beneath me.”
He bites you again and again up and down your thigh… little nips of his fangs, making blood drip down the softness of your skin as he licks every tiny trickle.
And all the while, he growls hungrily as he feeds.
It isn’t pain that fills you… not even pleasure. It is pure rapture. Pure bliss that rides up and down your spine. His fingers slowly, languorously curling into your folds, catching on that secret spot just inside that he knows so well.
“You’ve been so generous,” he purrs, letting the low rumbles of his voice shake into your already throbbing folds. “So good to help me through this. Giving me everything.” He glances up from between your thighs, pure wicked delight on his handsome face. “Well, I hope you haven’t given me everything. I think this tainted blood is going to take much, much more before it’s through…”
He pauses his sweet words to circle your clit, sucking it hard in time with the pulsing of those long, cold fingers inside you.
“You will come for me again, won’t you?”
You can’t even get a word in before he builds you to bursting. Driving you to shatter on his hand, under his mouth, as that voracious tongue laps at the arousal that spills from you. Your world spins, nothing but his touch on your skin, his fingers still clenched deep in your cunt.
You’re floating, limp as your muscles flood with warmth and pleasure. Steadied only by the bed at your back and the little sucks of his lips and the wet passes of his tongue over the blood on your thighs.
“Mmm,” he hums as he draws himself up to sit between your outstretched legs. “Every time with you is just perfect. And not just because it’s chasing the devil from my veins, you know…”
He shifts over you, dragging that heavy, cold, unyielding body across your skin. Making you shiver. Spasm. Making you reignite with desire for more of him again and again. That knee… that wicked, provocative knee… it creeps beneath yours to hook you, to spread you wide again as he glides his cock through the mess of your unions already drenching you.
“Seems you still have some of the devil in you, needing to be driven away, hmm?” you flirt, trying to maintain some composure, until he grinds against your already overstimulated folds, your aching clit, reducing you to nothing but moans and spasm.
And he laughs. “Why, my darling, it seems your body is as raging as mine.” His hands stroke against your cheek, fingers teasing their tips into your errant strands of hair that stick to your face. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the one infected, if I didn’t still have this raging erection needing release…”
You catch him by surprise, buckling your knees around his waist, the wetness of your cunt almost drawing him inside you as you buck against him.
He groans, just a little thrust of his hips and he’s sheathed, so deep and already pulsing with that tainted, blinding need to fuck again.
You giggle, watching his eyes darken, his lids lowering to gaze with all the raging lust in his body upon the one he desires. The only one. As he is yours. You sigh, running your hands up those intricate scars of his back, “I am infected too, you know. Infected by my need for you, perhaps.”
His kiss descends to cover your lips, but it is one of tenderness. Longing. Unsated need softened by the affection that brims in the way he takes you this time.
He is slower, deliberate. Each thrust an offering of adoration for your body. Each drag of his cock inside your folds an expression of his gratitude, his devotion.
His proclamation that you are, in fact, perfect.
Your body rides his, melting into every motion your legs tight around his narrow waist, his arms slinking around your shoulders, pressing your face into the broadness of his shoulder. You gasp against his neck, wrapped in his pleasuring of you, as if you could pull him into your very being more.
That rhythm, that rocking, it begins to sweep you away, binding you to his body. Claiming you for his own. That same fever crawls in his veins as he clutches at you, that tempo increasing harsher. Faster. Until he’s groaning with all his feral drive again.
He pulls out from you, only to slam himself into your cunt, every inch of that long, pulsing length of his filling you to bursting.
He can’t take his eyes off you, raised up in his hands now. His crimson glare consumes your every reaction, every twitch and grin and grimace of painful bliss that he commands from you. Pummeling into you over and over again, your hands claw into his shoulders, slipping down his back to savor the feeling of every undulation of his hips into your core.
“So good… so perfect…” he purrs, ravenous in his gaze, “my only blood… my living blood…” the hard lines of his body ride over every nerve in yours. Your body burns. On fire. Consumed. His words tingle in your ear, caressing your heart that raps in your chest, pattering in time with his merciless thrusts.
It’s brutal, it’s unrelenting.
It’s wonderful. The sliding of his sweat soaked body over yours, your skin flaming and damp. “Hells,” you groan as that thick head of his cock presses and drags over that sweet spot in your channel. “Astarion…” you moan his name, almost incoherent aside from all he is.
“Mmmm darling,” he rasps, “no sweeter sound than my name on your lips… well,” he hums giving you thighs and extra hard slap that squelches with all your sweat and arousal, “aside from the way your body sounds as you take me over and over again so eagerly…”
Your eagerness peaks, your body ripping in two around the rapid plundering inside you. You sputter his name again, a moan that tears from your throat, a scream that makes his handsome face twisting in ecstasy as he rams hardest yet, pulsing and hitching and forcing his eyes to stare as you unravel. Sopping and drenched, the warmth of your fresh slick mingles with his, coating your thighs and his as it seeps from where you couple.
He groans, dropping his weight on you, blanketing you in his scent and sweat and panting frame. He places his damp forehead against your cheek, his cool breath making you shiver as he finally seems to relax. Even if his cock is still hardened and buried inside you.
You feel the rigid planes of his body slipping across yours with every one of your combined breaths. Signing in relief, you relish just how dirty you feel.
How dirty you’ve been.
“Once this has worked its way from your system, you will need to bathe me,” you pant. Your fingers linger and stray through the damp and sweaty curls of silver that stick to his face.
“That can be arranged…” those eyes, that face suddenly twisting again with all the depravity he still has simmering under his skin and in his mind. “Or would you settle for my tongue instead, darling?”
You shake your head, face bright, amused and skeptical. “As if you could accomplish that without bending me over in your state…”
“Mmmm,” he nuzzles against you, tilting his face to run the cold, damp pad of his tongue up your jaw. Laughing as you tremble. “You assume I could accomplish such a feat as resisting your charms without this suffering of tainted blood…”
He slips his cock from inside you, and you moan into his mouth, turning to bring that taunting smirk against your lips. Just for a moment kissing him, before he returns to lapping and caressing your sweat soaked cheek. You sigh with relief, stretching your legs, clenching them together to relieve the throbbing of your muscles.
And this was with that magical healing to sustain you.
You shake your head, in amused, affectionate irritation. Feeling his still erect cock beginning to rub against your hip. His tongue darts across your neck, the unvoiced question in the deliberate lapping and dragging of his fangs on your flushed and pulsing neck.
“For the love, please,” you pant, arching into him with your feverish body, your lust still matching his each time it rises, even as your muscles and marrow scream for reprieve. “Just a bit of rest, love, surely that tainted blood’s hold on you is lessened…”
“But what of your hold on me, hmm?” he rasps into the rapid pulse of your neck. “What if it’s not the succubus whose magic has consumed me, driven me mad and feral, making me no more than a rutting beast…” he gives that low throated giggle. “Your fault, you know, my sweet.”
You breathe heavily, aroused and exhausted in equal measure. “I take full blame,” you laugh weakly, “but it’s only because you’re so beautiful…”
“And witty… and passionate…” he adds a roll of his hips as he utters that last word, grinding that still hardened cock against your side.
“Just… a breath,” you plead. “Just a moment. You don’t seem to be so near death’s door now…”
“I’ll try not to take offense at that barb, given how good you’ve been and how much I’ve fucked you senseless,” he chides.
You laugh again, a bit of a whine in your voice. “Can’t you take care of just one by yourself…”
He murmurs in your ear. “Darling, I’ll take my pleasure from you in every way, in every hole, until this tainted blood is burned up in the blaze of my lust for you,” he groans, “or until I’ve completely exhausted you, leaving you spent and heaving. And then I’ll simply seek my own pleasure just at the sight of you sleeping.”
You stretch, clenching your whole body hoping for that release and rest. If he lets you have it for a moment. “Mmmm, well love, sounds like I’ll really need that bath in the morning any way you come at it…”
He giggles again. Naughty. Dirty. His hand now wrapped firmly around his cock, rubbing for himself, letting it beat against your skin softly. “Oh… I’ll come at it, don’t you fret… darling.”
#astarion smut#astarion x female reader#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion x f!reader#reader x astarion#fuck or die#sex pollen#but let’s blame the succubus blood#astarion baldurs gate#baldurs gate astarion#baldur’s gate astarion#baldur's gate 3 astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#astarion#vampire rogue#astarion romance#astarion fanfic#astarion fic#bg3 smut#bg3 spoilers#baldur’s gate iii#baldursgate3#baldurs gate smut#baldur’s gate 3#baldur's gate#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate
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Sex Pollen Fics (Peter Parker)
* = smut (this is an updated and expanded masterlist based off this mini-list)
*Sex Pollen (Series) - @lousimusician
you and peter decide to break into your dad's lab when peter comes across an interesting plant
*It Was The Plant - @eternalstann
you and peter run into some trouble on a mission when trapped in a laboratory with an alien plant
*Boundaries - @eternalstann
friends don’t cross certain boundaries
*Sex Pollen - @eternalstann
peter and y/n touch the plant and they fuck the whole night until their craving is gone
*Love Flower - @selfcarecap
you’ve read all about sex pollen online but you didn’t believe in it - but when you experience it first hand, that most definitely changes your mind - you even have to seek help from your best friend peter to relieve the burn between your legs
*Fool’s Gold - @allegra-writes
where the reader gets doused by the sex pollen instead of peter, but you don’t need to have read that first
*Tension - @rebeccccccaaa
you and peter have always been very flirty and touchy with each other. You chalked it up to just how he is, not that you minded - but what happens when peter gets hit with hydra’s infamous sex pollen and all he seems to be doing is moaning your name
*Sex Pollen - @sadchappuccino
peter gets hit by a strange plant now you have to find away to stop the symptoms
*Fuck Or Die - @peterparkerslefttesticle
peter comes into contact with sex pollen and his best friend wants to take away the pain
*Murphy's Law - @dirtychocolatechai
sex pollen peter but instead of him staying sweet it makes him dirty
*Sex Pollen - @donttellpeterparker
you noticed a strange plant in peter's room
*All I Ever Need - @neko-rogers
peter warned you about the dangers of online dating
#peter parker#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker smut#peter parker fanfic#peter parker fic#smut#sex pollen#spiderman
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"I Can't Do This Without You"
Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here
Word Count: 5,939 (why am I like this)
Warnings: Pollen!Buggy x afab!reader, swearing, smut, mdni, p n v, chase, thrill, fluff, semi-public, mutual pining, has plot - I swear, whimpering, pleading, groaning, use of pet names: baby, sugar, sugarplum, hun, captain, Buggy is a switch.
I said I'd get it done in 48h, and I am a snail true to my word. Crispy leaf, dangle dangle.
Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings, @feral-artistry, @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity
Minors, this is not for you.
You groaned as the exhaustion overtook you, lulling your head backwards and releasing a deep sigh from the chasms of your throat. Feeling the fabric of the partially dampened tea-towel grind uncomfortably against your water-swollen fingertips had you release a hiss from your clenched teeth.
It was your turn to remain awake, plagued by the domestic duties that came with serving alongside the Buggy pirates. Although your allocations were rotational, you loathed being the only pirate awake during the cryptid hours aboard the vessel. Everything was silenced, aside from the rambunctious snores produced in the crew-quarters: roars, snores and heavy-laden breathing calling you to both run to and away from them as your eyelids grew heavy.
The echo of: “Nobody can do this like you can,” relayed on loop, the soft breath of your captain dancing atop your neck from behind. He knew exactly what his verbal praise did to you, the confident and arrogant asshole that he was. You adored your captain, loved serving him with your peers and sailing the East Blue with him guiding you through the currants and riding through the waves.
The only issue that you had serving your captain was this one, small, unspoken thing that had him sweetly pouring your name from his painted lips in a sticky-sweet drawl. His molasses-tone purring for you, coaxing you into doing his bidding by just the utterance of your name. It had your knees aching, spine tingling and heartstrings caught in the firm vice of his gloved fist. Perhaps he truly had no idea what he was doing to you. The way the small rasp in his voice pulled against his tonsils, the sweetness in his cadence truly revealed who he was to you alone.
You shook your head, plunging your hands back into the suds and muck of the dishwater. The texture of undiscarded food scraps brushing your fingertips caused your lips to pull back, revealing your pearled teeth in a disgusted snarl. Savages: the lot of them. A shudder crept up your back as you pulled the plug from the basin and ran the cool water from the tap. You anchored the nozzle of the tap over the basin, aiming for the bile-like gunk stuck to the steel container and coaxing them down the sink.
Heavy footfalls of buckled boots broke you away from your disgust, alert and ready to meet with whomever tore you from your thoughts. You rinsed your rubber gloves before removing them, casting them aside to the corner of the sink beside the amassment of freshly cleansed dishes, and turned to greet your crewman. You were shocked to see it was not just a simple comrade sneaking in to collect a glass of water, but your captain clad in nothing but his tight leather pants and unbuckled boots. His long blue hair lay carelessly from his head, waterfalling from the crown of his head down his shoulders and tickling his chiseled abdomen. Whispers of the partially curled hair, untamed and unbridled without his striped red and white bandana, stuck to his forehead in stringy clusters.
“H-Hey, Love,” his voice rasped. His eyes were panicked, wide behind the lengthy blue eyelashes. The small stuttered quiver in his ungloved hands had your brow furrowing into a dip in the middle of your face. Although not unaccustomed to pet-names from him; the tone in his voice held you captive and unwavering.
“Captain?” you asked after him, watching as your voice caused his head to twitch to the side and eyes clamp tightly shut, “Captain? Are you okay? You look poorly.” You removed your apron and hastily cast it down to the side as you approached him. As quickly as you approached, he stuttered his feet backwards and fisted the doorframe within his firm grip.
Immediately halting your steps, your heart beat harder within your chest. Panicked. Your Captain was panicked and frantic. He steadied himself, cowering away from your and physically holding himself to the frame as if it was the last thing anchoring him to the earth.
“Captain-?” you began, only for your words to be halted by your captain speaking through gritted teeth. His jaw was clenched so tightly closed, you were afraid he’d break his pearly teeth.
“-J-Just-....hnngh-... I n-need you to do something-... f-for me,” his voice faltered as the last syllable left his painted lips. His brows furrowed, eyes clamped tightly shut; his blue triangular patterns adorning his cheeks bled into the creases he created with the tightness. Sweat was pooling from his brow, down his temple to his stubbled chin.
“Captain!” you called after him, prompting him to shake his head from side to side violently to halt you from approaching him further.
“This was a m-mistake. I c-can’t-... fuck-... I-,” He pulled himself closer to the doorframe; his hips falling flush against the wall from behind. Your eyes searched his closed lids, following the trail of sweat down his chin to the bob of his Adams apple and down the scruff of his tufts of blue chest-hair.
“Captain,” you spoke in a warning tone. He shook his head from side to side once more, frantic and wild behind his clenched shut eyes. You took a tentative step towards him, his eyes snapping open at the small creak of your foot atop the floorboards.
“Baby,” he whimpered through a pained groan. His pupils were blown wide and frantic. His saliva drew the red tint away from its designated position against his lips and down his chin. There was something rabid in the air. To what extent, you truly had no idea.
“What do you need, sir?” Your professional response was to fall back into your ship-savvy training. You stood alert, your hands laced behind your back and awaiting orders from your pirate captain. He winced at your cadence, his voice unleashing a feral groan from his throat. It was deep, desperate and needy - heavy in the growl that laid against its raspy undertone.
“Baby, I need you to take my head. Take my head, and run.”
At that final command, he tossed his head at you and you began your sprint towards the upper deck of the Big-Top. You held your captain’s head within the hook of your elbow, cradling him into your chest as your feet picked up a sprint.
“Where am I going, sir?” you asked him, looking down at the painted clown you had chosen as your captain.
“Away f-from my body,” he winced. You noticed the tone in his voice, picking up his immediate distress and almost halting your steps to go back to collect his torso-.
“-DON’T!” He barked at you. You stiffened, picking up the pace once again as you fled away from the kitchen’s scullery and to the woven ropes beside the top mast.
Why did he have to collect that substance? Why did he have to find a way to siphon it into his latest ‘Buggy Ball’? Why did he have to spill it over his gloved wrist, immediately inhaling it and sneezing through the chalky pollen?
Because Captain Buggy D Clown was, among all other things, a fucking idiot.
He cursed at himself, feeling the tightness in the crotch of his leather pants as he braced his body against the doorframe, hoping you had ran far enough away from him to not cage you against the wall and rut into you like an ill-tempered, ill-mannered staffordshire bull terrier.
It was no secret that he gave you preferential treatment among the crew. He attempted to balance this out by giving you the poor jobs he wouldn’t dream of designating to the others because “nobody does it like you can.” He mentally slapped himself in the face at thinking of that, as he was cradled so protectively against the side of your chest. He wanted you, he wanted you. He wanted you.
But not like this.
He continued to verbally berate himself as your feet carried you further atop the deck and up the ropes. Your feet looped effortlessly against the woven ladder, hoisting both yourself and him to the crows nest and cowering into the side: hidden and out of sight. The stars illuminated your skin, the rise and fall of your pants holding him in a hypnotic stance as he watched your breasts swell with oxygen. Desire fell from his lips in a feral growl, prompting you to look down and search his face with panic written all over it.
Even in his afflicted state, he could truly see how desperately you cared for him. The way your hands reached to collect his chin and coax his pollen-blown pupils to meet with your own held him bewitched by your compassion.
“Captain?” You asked after him, breaking him from his trance momentarily as he panted out incoherent curses and ramblings, “Buggy. You need to tell me what’s going on. How can I fix this? What can I do?”
“You gotta stay away from my body, Hun,” he winced, left eye closing as his right attempted to hold firm to your gaze, “h-he-...f-fuck-... He w-wants-.....hha-ah-... He wants you, Sugar.”
You stay stationary, holding firm and perplexed as your captain continues swearing, cursing and groaning into the wee hours of the morning. You had no idea what had come over him, his affliction pulling at your heart as you watched more sweat produce at his temple.
“Why do I need to keep away from your body, Captain?” you asked him, placing his head down beside your own and lying down against the floorboards of the crows nest. He panted, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he winced through his next words.
“I fucking told you already, Baby. He wants you.” You cocked your head to the side as you watched your captain huff and suck his bottom lip in and out of his lips. His pants and groans caused caution to tug at your mind as you continued to study him.
His pained face almost looked as a lover would writhe beneath their other half. Lustful and insatiable being the balance of his growling and pleading expression, his brows knitting together in concentration as he continued to pant like an animal. Surely your captain would not behave as irrationally as a teenager in search of their next crevice to gyrate against.
Until it dawned on you.
That was exactly what you were dealing with.
“Captain?” you cautiously asked down at him, “Did you-... D-Did you toy with that flower? The one you said you wouldn’t touch?” After several clenched inhales and exhales, Buggy managed to hiss out a simple word that would change your reaction from concerned to appalled.
“Yes.”
You immediately began to grumble and chastise the captain, who whimpered away like a puppy caught behaving in a manner undesired by their owners. After a few minutes of berating and chastising, you halted your words as you witnessed the tremble in the bottom lip of your captain. You shook your head and huffed out a simple angry puff of breath.
“You were warned that it was a powerful aphrodisiac, yes?” you snarled at him, top lip pulling upwards to reveal your canines.
“Yes,” He managed to hiss out once again.
“And you chose to fuck with it anyway? Knowing there is no known antidote, yes?” You reprimanded him again, prompting a small winced whimper from your captain as he cried another simple: “Yes.”
You groaned, feeling the frustration and pain of a thousand subordinates taking directions from an idiot captain, and turned on your side, collecting the clown’s whimpering head into your hands and hoisting him over to you.
“Buggy,” your voice held the reprimanding tone of a superior as you cautioned a warning at your captain, “You are an idiot.”
“I know, Baby,” he managed to wince out through clenched teeth, “b-but I-...hnngh-... I c-couldn’t n-not. It was-... shit–t-... It was right there.”
You sucked in a long and exasperated breath through your nose, filling your chest with the rage of a begrudging superior and began to collect enough rage within you to bring down your frustration onto him-... Only to halt as your eyes met his.
He was a wreck. His pupils blown, his lips quivering and his teeth chattering behind his whimpering mouth. He was awaiting your beration: dreading it, but prepared for it. He wanted you to be angry with him. He wanted you to be upset that he did something stupid. He wanted you to be-... you. He wanted you.
“Why did you seek me out, Captain?” you asked him while removing your overcoat and placing it to the side.
“I-I-... I don’t kn-know,” he whimpered, his eyes wide and beginning to brim with desperate tears.
“Oh? You don’t know?” you asked him, kicking off your boots beneath you and unbuckling your belt, “You didn’t think I’d desire to relieve you of this predicament?” You unbuttoned your blouse, springing forth your breasts into the air and shimmying the cotton material from your shoulders, “You are my Captain.”
“What-... W-What are you doing?” he panted at you. His jaw was slackened, unblinking eyes never once pulling away from you as you continued to undress yourself. You rolled your eyes at him as you continued shimmying yourself from your clothes; presenting your nudity beneath the dusted starlight. Your captain’s blush darkened beneath his painted face, eyes bulging as his jaw began involuntarily salivating.
“Captain,” you huffed out, rolling back onto your side and meeting his gaze with your reprimanding gaze. Your eyes softened as they met with his, your eyebrows arching upwards at the center and a small smile drew itself to your lips. “You sought me out in the middle of the night,” you smirked, reaching for his cheek but halting before touching him.
You witnessed his pained and conflicting expression, his grimace straining against his cheeks as his eyes continued to yearn for you. You apprehensively sighed, placing your palm down in front of the clown-captain and bore your eyes into his own. Always encouraging, supporting and cheering for him in your expression.
“I joined your crew to serve you, Buggy,” you confessed to him, “You. You, sir.” You scooted your body closer to him, opting to not make the initial contact with him and holding firm to your position perpendicular to him. He grimaced, wincing in pain but his eyes were full and blown with lust and yearning.
“D-Don’t, Love,” his tone held the undertones of warning, his teeth pulling back and painfully gritting together in his jaw, “don’t say that. Y-You’re too g-good for the crew-... sssff-... too good f-for me-e.”
You scoffed at him, inching ever closer to him and almost brushing your nose against his beautiful, rotund circle of a nose.
“I chose to serve you, Captain,” you bore down your intense gaze into his own, “In whatever capacity you deem me worthy.” He groaned, his face involuntarily seeking out your own as you continued your confession, “What is it you always say? Nobody can do this like I can?”
His jaw fell slack, his eyes completely tint-less as they became eclipsed by desire. The cool teal of his irises were all but lost beneath his gaze. You smiled at him, turning over to lay on your back: eyes looking upwards at the stars as you unleashed a small sigh into the air.
“What a-are you doing?” he stuttered, slowly inching his decapitated head towards your face. Your eyes held a softness, the smile on your face as hypnotic as the day he first laid eyes on you.
“Oh, Captain,” you cooed at him, refusing to look at his face as you continued to stare upwards into the cloudless sky, “I’m just waiting for your body to catch up to where your head is.”
Buggy’s thoughts, swirling as the cesspool of a thousand bogs, was rattled by your words. Had he wanted you? Yes. He yearned for you, he pined for you. He had always imagined how beautiful you looked, split over his cock as he inched you downwards to take in his impressive length. He had always imagined you mewling and pleading for him to have you cum against his painted lips, coaxing the eruption of bliss from your core with his tongue as you rode his face. He had fisted his cock in solitude thinking of you, only you, as he spilt himself over his thumb and into a long forgotten sock while he whispered your name as gentle as a prayer between his lips.
He wanted you. He wanted you so badly. But he wanted you to want him. He didn’t want you to just be his crewman in servitude to their captain. He wanted you to need him exactly as much as he needed you. Even while his senses became overpowered by the aphrodisiac, he wanted you to want him in return.
“Captain?” your voice called to him, your apprehensive and almost shy tone breaking him from his thoughts. He nodded, knowing you could see him from the corner of your eyes. Even in his afflicted state, he attempted to keep his desperate eyes hyper focussed on your face as he noticed you gulp back a dry mouthful of saliva. “Do-... Do you think you could-... Talk to me a little?”
“What d-you m-mean, Sugarplum?” he winced, feeling the proximity of his body rapidly approaching towards the two of you in the crows nest. You huffed out your embarrassment, already naked in body beside him but yet to bare your soul.
“Buggy,” you warned him, your eyes now becoming haunted with your own quiet longing and desperation, “You know what your voice does to me, sir. I-... If we’re going to do this, I need you to talk to me.”
He was long gone from the part of feigning innocence to the matter. He was fully aware you were interested in his flirtations: reciprocating them in turn, but always shying away first to his crude and unwithheld shamelessness.
“You want me-... to get you in the mood? F-For me to… fuck you senseless?” He asked, his brow again releasing a new bead of frustrated and lustful sweat down his temple to his lip. He noticed the visible quiver in your body at the word ‘fuck’, prompting his body to quicken its haste at climbing the ropes from below. His pants were long discarded, his boots pooling at the floor beneath them as he continued to climb as a wild and ferocious beast up the ropes.
“O-Oh,” his whimpered question fled his lips more as a statement, a growl anchoring the end of his expression downwards as he watched your body continue to respond to him. Without warning, his head rocked into your shoulder, placing his lips on every inch of your skin he could find and wiggling his way upwards to trail long and desperate kisses to your jaw and neck.
“Oh, baby,” he began, licking and kissing at the pulse of your neck, “I have thought of nothing but y-you… -hnghh, fuck-...” he confessed as his feet fell; his cock brushing slightly against the rope and providing the smallest amount of stimuli against the throbbing shaft, “I-I wanted you, hun. I wanted you s-so badly. I wanted t-to know what you looked like caged in my arms as I fucked you beneath me-,” his feet began to pick up the pace, sprinting up the ropes to draw his throbbing closer to you.
“Hun, I don’t th-think you’re aware of how much I want you,” He licked a long stripe up your collar bone, his teeth grazing your skin as he whimpered against you, “baby, I-I-... I c-couldn’t-...” His words halted in his throat, truly not desiring to release his confession into the air for fear of never reclaiming the words back.
“What, Cap?” you gasped, finally turning to him with your eyes half-lidded and glazed with lust, “what couldn’t you do? Tell me. Tell me, please?” He growled, launching his decapitated head towards you and placing trails of creeping open-mouthed kisses against your cheek, nose and jaw - never claiming your lips beneath his for fear of breaking the spell and having you sprint from him.
“I-I-...” he whined, feeling his feet beginning to tingle in his approach. He was so close to you, so close to your glistening opening: ready and waiting for him to dive into your supple flesh and chase his release, “-I only think of you. I-I-... I can’t-... I can’t cum without thinking of you. I need you. I only think of you, the way you’d fuck. Baby, the way you’d taste.”
You gasped, finally claiming his cheek within your palm and watching the tearful expression of the clown within your hands and chasing his fleeting gaze with your eyes.
“Captain?” you cooed down at him, desperately trying to conceal your enthusiasm and excitement with your tone, “Captain, do-... do you picture me? When you touch yourself? When you-... when you masterbate?” Before the clown could halt his pathetic words from falling from his lips, his mind began to spiral as he continued his unholy confession.
“Baby, I-I tried to cum s-so badly without you. I was right there. I even found your old wanted poster and thought of making you scream as I stretched you out. I-I tried to cum while thinking of you. I kept chasing it, hun. I-I-... I can’t do it without you. I was right there twelve times before I went to find you in the kitchens. I t-tried. It’s-... I can’t do this without you,” he desperately cried, his eyes open and honest as he spilt nothing but truths from his lips. Your heart broke for him, and the shame of his confession began to glisten your aching entrance and swollen clit with his pathetic whines and calls for you.
At that, you felt the dangerous presence of his body begging to be reunified. The thrill held you quivering in anticipation, desperate to help your captain in whichever manner he deemed appropriate to chase his relief. You closed your eyes tightly shut, feeling his body fall downwards onto you and cage you beneath it.
“Baby, s-say something,” Buggy’s voice whispered at your jaw, his lips collecting the skin beneath it, “I-I can’t control myself f-for much longer. Baby I n-need to know this is o-okay.” His plea had your eyes snap open, meeting his teal gaze as he desperately sought out your own.
“It’s okay,” you whispered, feeling the inches of heat grazing against your thigh in his shaft’s approach towards your shamefully aroused entrance.
“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered into you. You felt the graze of his swollen tip prodding against your oozing entrance, flicking its shined tip against your clit as he rejoined his head firmly atop his shoulders, “I never wanted it to be like this.” He reached down, grasping his abused shaft and almost screaming as he did. His senses were overwhelmed, so desperate for stimuli but conflicted because he wanted so desperately to be good for you.
“It’s okay, Captain,” you reassured him, turning away from his face to shy from his feral expression. You held your eyes closed in shame at how truly intoxicated this made you. You were both blessing the horrible pollen for having him finally make a move, while guilty at the fact that this was the only reason you were feeling his knob rake slowly between your silken abdominal lips.
“L-Look at me,” he whispered down at you, “p-please, baby. Please look at me.” As you slowly turned to face him, he achingly withheld the urge to slam his cock fully within your entrance and pushing to the hilt of his shaft in one swift movement. He was physically shaking with the inability to control himself further than allowing this one moment to pass between you.
As your eyes slowly and coyly met, he glanced deep and unblinkingly into your eyes as he slowly inched the tip of his cock into you. You watched that subtle quiver in his eyes; the way his lip trembled at the friction as his leaking tip arched its way beyond the first point of contact. He muffled a scream, finally feeling relief at the contact of your walls sucking his cock within them. He fought back another urge to break away his eye contact and have his eyes roll back into his skull in bliss of the feeling - opting to continue staring deeply into your eyes as he slicked another few inches within your walls.
Your breath hitched, staring deeply into his eyes as your lips parted at how truly beautiful you found him. He clenched his teeth together, angling his hips forward and slowly pressing down into you while wincing back his pleasured cries of bliss. He wanted so desperately for this to feel as good for you as it did for him, but the way the pollen enhanced his every sense had his limbs on fire. As he inched his cock down to the base of his shaft, he sucked his cheeks into his teeth alongside his tongue and bit down exceptionally hard to keep his cum from spilling over immediately.
As you became accustomed to his width, you couldn’t help but sigh out a small mewl of pleasure at being filled by your captain into his ear. At that small hitched pitch of your voice, he began to rock his entire length within you as he groaned out a desperate cry of satisfaction.
Don’t you dare cum, you idiot. You’ve finally got what you wanted. You wanted this. Don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t you dare cum-.
“-You c-can cum, Captain,” you whispered into his ear, placing a small kiss on the corner of his jaw, “You’ve waited so long, Bugs. I’m so proud of you. You can cum, baby. Cum for me.”
His breath hitched in his throat, his cock immediately responding to your guidance by snapping the tension within his stomach. His balls were pressed so tightly within his abdomen, almost swallowed within his stomach by how tight and desperate everything became. At that small whisper of praise from you, his orgasm crashed over him like a bolt of calculated lightning seeking him out as a conductor to direct the currant. Ribbons and ropes of hot and desperate strings of sticky cum shot from his tip to coat your walls with their lustful lubrication.
“O-Oh fuck. Fuck! F-FucK!-.. Nghh-... I’m cumming. I-I’m cumming! F-Fuck, baby. I-I’m-.. Hhah-...” He cried into your shoulder, his lips and teeth collecting your neck beneath his mouth and clenching down onto your flesh. You hissed at the contact, feeling the waves of pleasure he was experiencing coat your walls as you soothed over his shoulders with a gentle, but firm touch.
His slow thrusts came to a halt, completely sheathed within you as he rode through his high. The collection of arousal pooling at your thighs and coated his groin was surprising to the both of you at the culmination of the fluids. As his eyes drew downwards to the contact between your bodies, he gasped at how beautifully your body had taken him in. He was in awe that you would allow him to join with your body in this way, but guilty in the fact that he was the only one to claim pleasure from this encounter.
He quirked his head to the side, remaining fully sheathed within you and began rocking his hips a little. You gasped, feeling his lingering firmness within your core and brush with the underlayer of your clit while the top brushed with his pubic hair. He laughed with an almost sickening amount of glee.
“Would you look at that?” He managed to stutter out between the snapping of hips. He leant down towards you, hovering his lips just above your own, “I’m still hard.” He hummed thoughtfully, looking first to where your bodies were connected before darting his eyes back up to yours.
Looking up at him with partially shocked eyes, you felt the lubrication of his prior release grinding against his cock sheathed within your core. His soft and deep gyrations had an involuntary cry fall from your parted lips at the friction. Buggy’s eyes smiled as his lips broke into a crooked smile.
“Ohh,” he cooed down at you, “Ooh, you thought we were done, didn’t you?” He reached down to collect your thighs, hooking them over his hips and joining them at the ankles, “oh, sweetheart. You thought you could get away with ordering your captain to cum in you without consequence?”
He shifted his cock deeper within you, raking his hands at your thighs upwards to collect your ass beneath his wide fingers. You bit your bottom lip to halt a sound from leaving your lips, prompting Buggy’s teal eyes to look down at you and frown. He snapped his hips harder against you, slow and deliberate thrusts dragging at your walls with his cock and prying another muffled moan of desire from you.
He frowned further, drawing his face closer into you and almost brushing his lips with yours.
“Don’t you dare stop those pretty sounds from comin’ out,” he commanded you, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with desire. His throbbing cock was twitching within your fluttering walls, his groans of pleasure serenading you with his raspy tone gracing your ears, “Oh, Baby. Let me hear you. C’mon, now.”
You screamed at your eyes to remain fixed on the man above you; his own half-lidded expression being mirrored in your irises as your lips almost brushed. He continued slowly anchoring his hips in and out of your glistening entrance with your walls fluttering around him. You gasped as he wove his arms beneath you and hoisted you upwards. He rocked back to sit atop his calves, pulling you with him to sit atop his lap and braced himself fully flush with you.
With his arms hooked beneath you, he found the backs of your shoulders and braced you against his torso, breaking away his eye contact as his lips sucked on your neck. He gyrated his hips up into you, keeping you completely still and caged atop his lap as he rocked you. The new angle had your jaw slack and gasping silent cries and mewls of pleasure down into his ear.
“You were so chatty, baby,” he grunted against your neck, trailing his lips against your neck to your jaw, “Where did that go, huh?”
At that final taunt, you wove your hands into the back of his scalp and forced his neck back to look up at you. He gasped out a sighed groan, jaw clenching at your manhandling of his sensitive body. Grinning up at you with a grimaced lop-sided smile, he again taunted you: “Too embarrassed by me? Don’t want to have the infamous Clown-Captain make you cum?”
He picked up the pace, almost disregarding your hands within his hair as his thrusts became more desperate and unbridled. His playful eyes never broke away from your face, only leaving to glace at your breasts bouncing at eye level and shamelessly ogling them before finding your eyes once more. His hips began to stutter more, almost rhythmically in tune with your body as he felt your walls suck him in with their flutters.
“Not embarrassed, Cap,” you managed to gasp out, grinding down onto his cock. He squirmed beneath you, matching your circling and gyrating rhythm as he bucked up into you. “I’m just enjoying your voice.” You tugged back his hair tighter, his lips releasing a hissed sigh as you brought your lips down to suck on his neck. He continued rolling his hips upwards, allowing you to chase your release by circling and gyrating against him.
“P-Please,” He called in a voice above a whisper, “Please cum on my cock. I need you to cum on my cock, baby. I want you to use me like a toy. Your toy.” You whimpered against his neck, feeling the tightness in your abdomen increase to the center of your stomach. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he continued rocking you atop his lap.
“No,” He shook his head out of your grasp and bore his teal eyes into your own. He uncircled his arms from beneath your shoulders to his right wrapping around your stomach while the other cradled your jaw, “No I want to see it. I want to see you cum. I want to see the lights dance in your eyes as I rock you on my lap. I want to see your pleasure as you chase it, sliding your slick cunt over my cock. Please, please baby. Please cum for me.”
As his eyes locked on yours, you felt the twirl within the pit of your stomach finally release the band of pleasure within you. Every inch of your body burst with the tingles of your orgasm: the tips of your toes shivering within the vibrations of warmth and static up to your legs, thighs, abdomen, torso, neck and face. You were suffocated by the cry you released of his name pouring from your lips as you raked your hips over his lap, whimpering and moaning for him as you rode your high into blissful overstimulation.
Buggy had no idea when he began cumming, but he could feel you sucking every inch of his second release deep within you by the sturdy thumps of your glistening walls squeezing each drop from his quivering shaft. He cried for you, the sting of overstimulation balanced with ensuring you had truly finished allowing the waves of bliss to wash over you. He felt tethered to you, the only thing anchoring him down to this world as he serenaded your praises with the angels.
He released your jaw, circling his hand to the back of your head and pulling you down to touch your forehead with his. Your movements stilled, the only sounds resonating were the crashes of waves against the hull and the distant roars, snores and heavy-laden breathing of your crew sleeping and remaining blissfully unaware of what just occurred within the crows nest. Sighs and breaths between you passed as you greeted one another with warm, coy smiles.
“Did you learn your lesson, Captain?” you asked him with a small, sleepy giggle.
“I think so, Hun,” he replied with the same tone, the creases of his eyes holding both his charm and his playfulness within it, “‘You’ll always look after me when I do something stupid’ was the lesson, right?” You pursed your lips at him, no longer having the energy to fight with him and opting to place a small chaste kiss atop his round nose. He winced at the caress, but opted not to pull away once he saw your sleep-deprived expression.
“I’m just playing, Love,” he sighed into your face, still ghosting his lips over your own without fully committing to the kiss.
“I know, Cap,” you mumbled sleepily, pressing a soft and deep caress of your lips against his. He groaned against your lips as they finally met, holding firm against you as you angled your head to deepen the kiss. Breaking the dance of your lips intertwining, you leant back and smiled warmly at him, “But I will always look after you when you do something stupid.”
“Oh good,” he sighed in relief, a broad and brilliant smile drawing itself against his lips as he hardened his resolve, “Because all I've learnt is nobody can do this like you can.”
#one piece#opla#opla fic#one piece live action#x reader#captain buggy#buggy fic#buggy pollen#pollen fic#buggy#buggy x reader#afab reader#buggy smut#buggy pollen smut#buggy the clown x reader#op smut#buggy x you
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an extant form of life- chapter 4!!
There are limited luxuries in Jon's life, and he enjoys them where he can.
The bathroom, for example, is large for his flat– something about it being a handicap accessible unit– and it even includes a shower/bath combo, rather than one or the other. The tub is ancient, but it works, and Jon can fully stretch out in it when he's feeling decadent enough to run his water bill up for a bath. Now isn't the time for such things, but there's an inherent comfort of this room.
Jon allows himself to lean back against the bathroom door and admit, for a moment, that he's not quite as in control of this situation as he'd hoped.
#tma#jonathan sims#the magnus archives#writing#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#pollen fic#phyn writes#chapter update!
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can we have another sex pollen fic 🫣🫣🫣
picks up after Lazaretto where you were precautionarily quarantined together and subjected to a treatment that had a sex pollen effect on Joel 🥵. Check content settings if you can't see that one.
Lazaretto: Horny reader
1k / Joel x horny!f!reader
Warnings: Horny reader pressures Joel for sex as he struggles with guilt / fear. Jacking off. unsafe P in V sex. Prev story (referenced) was noncon. Unedited.
☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️
After Joel is seized by the fog and ferally pounds you, y’all still have another 24 hours in the tent together nearly nude before they’ll let you go. It's a long time to spend with someone in these circumstances. Long enough for you to recover and need more.
He’s traumatized by the experience, overwhelmed by guilt. You reassure him it felt good, as if he didn’t already know you came on his cock, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. He's torturing himself. He’s still feeling the fog, too, even though it’s faded.
He has a hard dick, but by now he’s regained enough control to restrain himself. He’s too ashamed to even relieve himself in front of you. Too ashamed or too afraid of what he might do. You spend most of the day pretending to nap so he can periodically jack off unembarrassed. He grunts and sighs as quietly as he can. You don't want him to know you notice, but it's the hottest thing you've ever heard, and the fact that he’s trying to be quiet only makes it hotter. The squish of his skin and his stifled sounds of pleasure have you starving for his cock.
You wish he’d just fuck you again. You’ve offered. You’ve asked. You’ve borderline begged. You want it that bad. You’re stuck in a tent, horny as hell, with Joel and his hard cock. What’s more, you’re aware of what he can do with it, and every few hours you have to hear him fucking his fist instead of your needy cunt. Your ass is sore, but your pussy wants more. The hornier you get, the more you lose patience. Finally, you’ve had enough and pretend to “wake up.” When you sit up on the cot and face him, he’s cowering on the floor pressing the heel of his palm into his aching member, with his eyes swollen from tears.
“I need something,” you say. “Anything.” You slip your hand under your gown and start touching yourself.
“Can’t give it to ya, sweetheart. It ain’t right,” he says for at least the third time today.
“No, Joel. God, I’m sick of hearing that.” You don’t stop touching yourself. "What ain’t right is you not giving me a choice right now. Gimme the choice you couldn’t give me earlier.”
He doesn’t know how to respond to that.
“Get over here and lie down on the cot,” you tell him, your voice more gentle than the words. “Let me take what I need," you add.
He rubs his temples with the thumb and ring finger of one expansive hand. He shakes his head, then looks at the ceiling of the tent. A few seconds later, he hesitantly stands up with a groan like his whole body hurts. You avert your gaze from the considerable tent in his gown as he makes his way to the cot trying to hide it.
Joel lays down on the cot and says, "You don't have to do this. You really shouldn't." You feel a little bad for him, but you do have to do this. Your body needs it. In your mind, it will benefit you both. "I don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart. Get me started, I dunno if I can stop."
"Relax, Joel." You get on top of him and pull up his gown, your breath hitching at the sight of his commanding cock. You take your own gown off entirely, hoping the sight of your tits helps him get on board with this. You watch his face darken as you position yourself on top of him and both his hands come gently to your breasts.
"Fuck," he breathes as he palms your nipples with his tired eyes nearly closed. You notch the angry tip of his cock at your weeping cunt and he shudders "Ohh, God," pinching his eyes shut. His hands slide down to your hips then he opens his eyes again. As you begin to sink onto him, he pulls you down hard and lifts his hips, sheathing his stiff member in your warmth. He grunts and you sigh as you're impaled on his rock-hard length.
"Fuck, you feel good," he winces.
You lean forward and tilt yourself to press your most sensitive place against his pubic bone, softly cushioned by hair. You begin to move your hips, grinding against him and giving him space to rail in and out of you. His thick cock is hurried along by your ample slick each time he impales you. His eyes water, swollen and sensitive from his earlier tears, and his rough hands grip your ass harder. He kneads your cheeks and you wince in pain each time they spread.
Joel grunts and sighs as he buries his length in you. Your knees squeeze his broad torso as your clit begins to twitch. His face is overtaken by the inner animal again and he begins to rail you mercilessly, pulling you down harder each time he thrusts up into you. You lift up his gown and slide it up his torso, then rest your hands on his pecs for leverage. The sight of his scars and light chest hair make you weak and his firm pecs under your palms make you twitch more. You push your ass down and back as he fucks up into you.
You lower your torso against his, slipping your hands under his arms and resting them on the cot. With the added contact, you’re close to the brink. He plunges his thick cock into you for another minute, your walls gripping him each time he fills you up. You teeter on the edge of your climax, then he grunts loudly and pleasure seizes you, from your clit spreading inward, strangling his cock as you sigh. His nipples harden against your breasts and he shudders then explodes inside you with a long, low sigh.
You stay on his cock and he reaches down to the ground to pick up the blanket. He covers your bodies and you fall asleep with him inside you. Finally you both get some much-needed rest.
-
All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#dark!joel miller#joel miller#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal smut#toxicanonymity ☠️#sex pollen#tw noncon#joel jacks off#PPCU jacks off#PPCU jacks off ☠️#someone jacks off
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Wrong Number
MDNI // smutfic // Jason Todd x Reader
“You accidentally take an edible laced with sex pollen, and unbeknownst to you, you called Jason instead of Ivy. Smut ensues.”
(gender-neutral reader, no use of y/n, recreational drug use, sex pollen, missionary, creampie, aphrodisiacs)
Ao3 Link
[dedicated to @fcthots ]
Your breaths come out in short puffs, sweat beading on your forehead. Your skin is on fire, and there’s an undeniable ache between your legs you can’t ignore anymore. Stripped naked, you laid on your bed, legs squeezed together to try and alleviate your burning desire. Dammit. You reach out to your phone, sweeping your hand over your sheets until your fingers make contact with the smooth surface of your screen. Opening it, you scroll down your contacts. F, G, H, I, J. You hit Ivy’s contact, and close your eyes while you let it ring. Hearing it connect, you groan, “Ivyyyy, I don’t know what was in that damn edible you made but I feel- I don’t- ugh.” You smack your bed in frustration, tears welling up from the tension in your stomach. This was embarrassing. You were high, and then horny, but now the high has worn off and you’re still trying to get off. “You know what- never mind, I’ll talk to you later.” You clicked the end call button, and rolled onto your back. Okay, time to try and finish.
Jason stared at the phone in his hand, the screen on ‘call ended’. What the hell was that about? Shit, you weren’t in trouble were you? Edible, huh… He heard from you that Ivy was dabbling in making some after growing weed, which, whatever, she’s not destroying city blocks with her plants anymore so he’ll take that any day. But by your words, it seemed like she’s up to something, he’ll have to check on that later. Or…
“Hey, Oracle. Do me a favor and look into Ivy for me?”
“Sure, what for?” came her reply.
“Mmm, well my friend took one of her edibles and-”
“Wait. Edibles? You better not be doing some stupid prank Hood, or I swear-”
“No! No, it's-,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose,”She just sounded like she was in trouble, but whatever, I’ll deal with it.”
“Oh.” He could hear through the comm link the way her voice softened, which he’s not sure if he hates or is grateful for. “Alright, I’ll send someone over to Ivy’s location.”
“Thanks.”
He shut off the link and looked over to your fire escape. Parking his bike in the alley that ran next to your place, he scaled the wall and clambered onto the escape. It was dark in your room, but you left your window open. Pulling the screen aside, Jason stepped into the room and onto the little welcome mat you put there as a stupid joke. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped.
You were on your side, moans muffled by your pillow as you worked your fingers faster, the slick noises accompanying your voice. His eyes widened, heat shooting through his body as he felt his dick twitch in his combat pants. Fuck, oh how he’s thought of you like this for some nights now. But not now, he thought, must’ve been some of Ivy’s aphrodisiac in that edible. Clearing his throat, he stepped closer. You squeal, and bolt upright, looking at him with wide eyes. “Wha- Jay, what are you doing here?”
“You called me,” he shrugged, ”Wrong number, I guess.”
You stared at him, gears turning in your brain. Maybe, maybe not ‘wrong number’. He could help you, couldn’t he? He’s always been on your mind like that, you might’ve had some unholy thoughts about your best friend.
“Jay,” you whisper, crawling on your hands and knees toward him, “Please,” you’re reaching up to his face now, settling your hand on his mask, “fuck me”.
“Uhh.” It’s his turn to stare at you, eyes trailing over the slope of your chest. “I- I mean, no, you’ve been dosed with some aphrodisiac-” You’re taking his mask off now, sliding your other hand down his chest- “And- and I can’t-”, his breath catches as your hand is placed right on top of his tummy, “-you don’t know what you want,” he finished, glancing from your hands to your half-lidded eyes.
“I don’t?” You gaze back into his eyes, looking down to his lips as you move closer, ghosting your hands over his body and placing them on his shoulders. Your lips connect, and he deepens the kiss, placing his hands on your waist. You pull him closer to you, shifting back until you can bring him down to your level, lips still on each other as he runs a hand through your hair. Your hair catches on his fingers and it pulls, but it feels so good the way he’s bringing his hand through from your scalp and grabbing a fistful of your hair at the back. You moan into his mouth as your kisses get sloppier, as he releases your hair and his hands wander down over your nude body, caressing your thighs. You don’t know if you can take it anymore. Pulling back from his kiss, you breathe,”Jay, please, I need you so badly, I- I can’t-”. You gasp as he suddenly grips your thighs and curses.
Straightening, he starts to strip as you watch, flushing as you spot his happy trail and finally, as he pulls his pants down you can see the bump of his bulge in his boxers. You rub your thighs together, scooting back onto the bed to give him space to mount you. You can see him tracing the shape of your body with his eyes, finally locking onto the wetness between your legs. Jason pushes his boxers down, letting his cock spring free and you can see he’s already leaking precum, which threatens to snap that tight band in your stomach. Throwing your head back, you moan and spread your legs for him. “Yeah,” he breathes, “Yeah I’ll fuck you alright,” as he looms over your needy body. He kneels on the bed, lining his stiff cock with your entrance and begins to push in.
“Fuuuckk, baby you gotta relax,” he moans, pressing into you slowly as your mouth gapes from how he’s stretching you open. You swear you almost cum immediately from his intrusion, but your arousal heightens as he thrusts all the way in. You cry out in pleasure, gripping your sheets and squeezing your eyes shut as he starts to fuck you, slowly at first but quickening his pace as to seeing how desperate you are. You were practically rolling your hips onto his cock until he held them still and fucked you at a punishing pace. He groaned, his ear tickled with your pleading and moaning. It felt so good, the burning feeling turned into pleasure as Jason rocked his hips into yours, and you were sure you were going to finally cum.
“Fuck, you’re so good for me aren’t you?” he moans, the sounds of your sex filling the room.
“You’re close, aren’t you baby? C’mon then,” he lowers his face towards your ear, “Cum for me sweetheart,” he whispers, and finally that tension snaps and you cry out, your orgasm forcing your eyes shut as you cream around his cock that’s still pumping hard into you. You pant as he curses and thrusts into you faster, chasing his own high until he’s spilling his cum into you, the warmth making your belly tingle. He’s panting too, as he pulls out of you and stands up, reaching over to grab a towel from your dresser. He cleans you up and you stare up at him, eyes half-lidded and the only sounds that fill the room are of you two breathing hard. You don’t talk and neither does he, and you move over on the bed to give him room as he lays next to you. He moves onto his side, propping his head up with a hand as he smirks, “Not bad, huh?”
You snort, and snuggle closer to him.
“Not bad at all, Jay.”
#mdni#this is my first smut i wrote this in one go no beta readers#i think it’d be funny if harley and ivy were stoner girlfriends. they had weed and chilled out.#jason todd#red hood#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd smut#dc smut#smut fic#sex pollen
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you call and I come running
rating: E for Explicit! 18+
pairing: javier peña x f!reader
word count: 8K
summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.
warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking
a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)
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Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty.
Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension.
Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees.
A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.
You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said –
Whatever he said, you told him no.
Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen.
It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.
And then he never looked at you the same way.
You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him.
Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part.
He doesn’t look at you the same way.
Or at all.
He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.
Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.
“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”
The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine.
“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.
You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”
He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?”
The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin.
“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.”
He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.
“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed.
“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.”
“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?”
He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has.
“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.”
His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”
“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.”
He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat.
Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.
“Save it.”
You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.
“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”
“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.
The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.
“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod.
The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places.
“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”
Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway.
“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him – running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night.
There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense.
El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.
Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.
Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips.
A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.
And you need a fucking win.
You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.
And something cracks you across the chest.
Powder. Blue. Lots of it.
You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet.
Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.
“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest.
You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates.
You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper.
He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you.
A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.
“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.
His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”
He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.
Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough.
He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.
“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”
Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.”
Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.
“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this.
You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass.
“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command.
He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.
He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.
To you.
But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.
Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.
His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.
Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –
With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall.
“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”
“What do you–,”
You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing.
“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”
You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.
“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.
“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”
He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need.
He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks.
“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”
You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.
He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”
“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him.
“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?”
You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh.
His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”
The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.
“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”
“More, Javier, more.”
He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”
If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs.
“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”
“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!”
His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles.
“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –
And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life.
“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”
But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh.
“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.”
His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor.
“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks.
“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more.
He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.”
On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing.
Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all.
But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in.
If you just –
“Come for me.”
You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot.
Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck.
You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again.
“Javi, did you . . .”
He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down.
“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.
*~*~*
Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.
Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely.
But that is something he is not capable of right now.
In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse.
A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.
Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them.
You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.
You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days.
Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open.
“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”
In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off.
He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.
“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest.
“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.”
“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.”
“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission.
You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.”
“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands.
You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again.
“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you.
He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to.
“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you.
You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.
“Please, Javi, please.”
He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end.
“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”
Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him.
He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips.
He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick.
You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.
“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you.
“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”
He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.
“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.
“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,”
He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.
You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.”
He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips.
“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”
He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb.
Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls.
And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.
He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning.
He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs.
The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth.
You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth.
“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”
Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.
“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?”
You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.
“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”
You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”
He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.
“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.”
“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.”
His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.
You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.
He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s.
“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted.
His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open.
“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”
He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week.
The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.
“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.
“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”
You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you.
Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.
Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release.
“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.”
His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers.
“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking.
He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted.
He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.
He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his.
*~*~*
Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.
The heatwave had finally broken.
It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels.
You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake.
He wants to know how you feel about last night.
“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”
You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away.
Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”
He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.
You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek.
“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”
His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change.
“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs.
“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”
“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles.
“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock.
“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.”
“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you.
He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession.
“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?”
You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck.
“Not at all.”
When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while.
Noonan is annoyed.
Murphy is not.
“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”
“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.”
“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”
“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.”
You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”
He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”
“Not at all.”
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