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crushmeeren · 7 months ago

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ᝰ FIRST TIME FUCKING YOU WITHOUT A CONDOM .ᐟ

⋆ ft. itachi, neji, kakashi, sasuke ⋆

master list link

ᯓ★ dividers created by me.

༝ ᭝ ༝ itachi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Itachi is not someone who’d be reckless with this decision.

Sure, his cheeks would turn scarlet when you ask. His head would whip to the side so fast his neck would be in danger of snapping, drawing one leg up as his entire body shifts towards you on the couch. He would slip two fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tug, desperate for a cool breeze to tame the suffocating heat now creeping down his throat, flushing his chest.

His gaze would flicker across your face, hand resting on your thigh, squeezing once. He’d ask, “You — are you sure? You don’t want me to wear a condom anymore?” His voice would crack on the word condom and his blush would darken. Itachi would take a second to clear his throat, glaring at you without any real heat when you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sure, Itachi.” You’d readjust your position, mirroring his, and look up at him through your lashes. “I just, I need to feel you. All of you,” you’d admit, playing with his fingers before lacing them together. The sweet heat building in your belly would remind you of the way it feels to drink a cup of hot chocolate.

Itachi’s lips would part, and you’d be certain you caught his dick jerking in his sweats. He’d make you wait until you’re on some other form of birth control. No surprise babies in this house.

Itachi would hold his breath when he pushed his latex free cock into you for the first time. His eyes would squeeze shut, a shaky exhale of your name spilling from his lips as he bottomed out and fucking came. You’d be able to feel the harsh twitching of his dick as he made you look nothing short of a cream filled donut. He’d be so embarrassed, ready to apologize, but he’d stop short at the fucked out look on your face.

The added slick sensation would turn you on like no other, cheeks hot to the touch as you begged him to keep going. He’d stay as hard as a rock, rolling you both until you’re perched in his lap. He’d draw his knees up, tangle his fingers with yours, and encourage you to “Ride me, sweetheart. C’mon, take what you need. I’ll let you use me until your pretty little pussy is sore.”

Itachi doesn’t have to tell you twice.

༝ ᭝ ༝ neji ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Neji loves having sex with you, but he’d be a bit paranoid.

Neji’s uptight. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell how pussy drunk he gets. He’s a whiny, breathy mess any time his cock’s inside you.

However, he’d also be hyper aware he could get you pregnant if he’s not careful. He wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of having a baby with you, but he wouldn’t be ready for quite some time. He’d wear a condom, no matter how bad he wants your pussy to squeeze him raw. You’d have multiple conversations about it, convincing him to try just putting the tip in.

He’d be….hooked, to say the least. It’d be by sheer force of will that he doesn’t shove his entire cock in your pussy that first time. But, it’d also be the very next time Neji swears “just the tip”, when things spiral.

The warm ache in Neji’s belly would overshadow his concerns. He’d end up knocking your thighs further apart with his knees, bending forward and planting his elbows on either side of your head, leaving just a few centimeters between you. He’d whine, “Baby, I can’t handle this temptation any longer. Please, can I feel your pussy?”

“Fuck, put it in Neji. As long as you pull out it’ll be fine, I promise.” You’d lift your hips to take more of him before he could regret it, and Neji would oblige. Your pussy would hug his cock better than in his dreams, and Neji’s low, broken moan would light your blood on fire.

Neji would straighten up to sit on his knees, grip one of your ankles and haul your leg over his shoulder, allowing the other leg to hang loosely at his hip. He’d bend you in half to deepen the angle, hands resting by your shoulders. Just to tease you both, he’d pull out halfway and push back in at an agonizing pace.

Neji would fuck you within an inch of your life, long hair becoming a curtain that cuts you off from the world. Your nails would scratch angry pink lines down his chest, and his cock would start to throb as he toed the line of release. You’d smack his chest, reminding him with a desperate plea, “Don’t cum inside me! Neji, Neji, baby — you gotta pull out!”

He’d slip his cock free at the last second, letting your body flop to the bed as he stroked his cock. With three quick pumps he’d cum all over your belly.

Safe to say, this would be Neji’s new favorite way to have sex.

༝ ᭝ ༝ sasuke ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Unlike his brother, Sasuke is impulsive.

He couldn’t deny the thought would cross his mind every now and then, playing with the idea of fucking you raw and seeing his sticky, white cum cover his cock and spill from your pussy.

Usually when he got the urge he’d jerk himself off. Cool fingers would wrap around his warm cock, shivers running down his spine as he stroked himself slowly. He’d cum in a heartbeat.

It would dull the ache of his desire for a while. Hell, he definitely wouldn’t want to have a baby any time in the near future. But soon enough it’d start to eat at him again. His stomach would clench tight every time you’d have sex, nasty dreams forcing him to wake up hard. That’s why, when you beg him to take the condom off, it’s take zero effort to convince him.

Your face would be buried in your pillow, ass in the air, and one hand would fist the sheets. The other would twist behind to smack against Sasuke’s lean lower belly, pushing at him to wait. He’d be too focused, hands pressing your lower back into a harsh arch, sweat trailing down his temple, over his jaw, dripping onto your back.

“Sasuke,” you’d moan, asking for his attention. “Wait, Sasuke — ah fuck!” You’d dig your nails into his belly until he sucked in a sharp breath. “Take the condom off, please!”

His hips would still, pressed flush to your ass. “What?” He’d ask, already be pulling out. “You want me to fuck you raw?” He’d tease. “So spoiled, princess.”

You’d roll onto your back, cheeks heated, chest heaving. “Just fucking take it off,” you’d demand, reaching to grasp the slippery latex and slide it free. Sasuke would smirk, eyes glued to his dick as it bobs once the condom pops off.

Sasuke’s jaw would go slack once you stroked his cock, the skin soft and slick from leftover lube. He’d fucking whimper, a noise he’d never made before, when he pushes all the way in. Sasuke’s thoughts wouldn’t be coherent after that. He’d put your knees to your ears and fuck you until he’s cum twice and you’re squirting onto his pelvis.

He would panic the next day, going dizzy with relief when you inform him you started getting birth control shots.

༝ ᭝ ༝ kakashi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Kakashi would be asking you if he could hit it raw.

For your entire relationship, Kakashi would have it known that he’s got a fantasy about giving you a “cream pie”, for lack of a better word. He’d never push you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, no, he’d be more than happy to even role play the act.

There’s no denying that Kakashi would truly want to get you pregnant. He’d love to see your belly round with his baby, but he’d be patient and wait for you to give him the go ahead. However, Kakashi has a loud mouth, and he’d voice his desires at least every other time you have sex.

In the end, the idea would get in your head and become more than appealing to you. When you gave in, it’d be when Kakashi least expected it. It’d be a night when his back is propped up by a couple pillows near your headboard, calloused hands gripping your ass and guiding the slow roll of your hips. Kakashi would be drooling about how well you ride his cock.

Your hands would brace themselves on his pecs, nails digging into his skin, and Kakashi wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. No surprise there. “Babygirl,” he’d moan, eyes rolling towards the ceiling when your pussy clenches tight. “Look so pretty when you ride me, m’gonna cum so hard. You’ll let me knock you up, yeah? Wanna see you swollen with my baby so bad.”

You’d slap your hand over his mouth to stop the stream of filthy words, cheeks blistering. “Kakashi,” you’d say through your teeth, voice pitching higher. “Take off the condom.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows would shoot to his hairline, jaw dropping open as the words he’d been waiting forever to hear sunk in. There’s no way in hell you’d have to repeat yourself. He’d shove you off his lap and onto your back, settling between your spread thighs as he all but ripped off the condom. He’d stroke his cock a couple times before readjusting his weight, taking his time to slide his bare cock back inside you.

Kakashi would whine in back of his throat, pushing your thighs apart until your muscles started to protest. “Kakashi!” You’d gasp, pushing up to your elbows, fisting the sheets as he railed the shit out of you.

“Sorry, can’t — fuck, can’t help myself,” he’d pant, not sounding sorry at all. You’d catch a glimpse of Kakashi’s sharingan whirling and then he’d be cumming before you realized he’s close.

He wouldn’t stop with one round. He’d wring pleasure out of you until your legs turned to jelly. He’d cum again after that, making such a mess that you’d both end up in the shower.

#kakashi x reader #itachi x reader #neji hyuga x reader #sasuke x reader #kakashi smut #itachi uchiha smut #neji x reader #sasuke smut #itachi smut #kakashi hatake x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #kakashi hatake smut #sasuke uchiha smut #neji hyuga #naruto x reader #naruto smut

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danysdaughter · 9 days ago

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Red Is The Color Of Want

pairing | civil!war!bucky x widow!reader & winter!soldier x widow!reader

word count | 4.8k words

summary | in a crumbling safehouse far from the fights you both escaped, you—a former black widow—unravel the man beneath the metal as the winter soldier comes undone in your arms. but when a page of trigger words drags bucky back into the shadows of who he used to be, the only thing more dangerous than his programming… is how much he needs you.

tags | (18+) MDNI, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f!receiving), fingering, rough sex, desperate sex, emotional hurt/comfort, dubious consent (due to Winter Soldier programming), ptsd and trauma responses, emotional angst, mutual longing, slow burn that explodes, comfort after breakdown

a/n | YALLL, this is not the a sequel to Сетка, this is a complete different widow!reader, Сетка Pt 2 is still on its way, anyway this is based on this request

taglist | ALSOOO I've created a tag list for this, so if you wanna be tagged whenever I release a new bucky fic, just fill your username to this taglist

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

Romania, Bucharest — 2016

The café was falling apart in the charming way only Eastern European buildings could get away with. A crooked sign hung above the door like it was waiting to fall. Inside, it smelled like cheap coffee and something burnt a few days ago.

You were sitting by the window, hunched over a chipped porcelain cup, one foot tucked under you. The table rocked slightly every time you leaned on it. You’d already emptied two packets of sugar into the bitter brew, and now you were on your fourth.

Across from you, he watched with that quiet intensity of his—chin in hand, blue eyes barely blinking, like every movement you made held the key to unlocking some part of him. He said nothing until the fifth sugar packet disappeared into your cup.

“Going for diabetes or just hoping to dissolve the pain?”

You didn't even look up as you stirred. “Why stop at diabetes? If I keep going, maybe I’ll reach enlightenment.”

His lip twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. The most you ever got from him on a good day.

“Doesn’t matter how much you sweeten it,” he said finally, nodding toward your cup. “Still tastes like shit.”

You leaned back, cradling the mug in both hands like it was precious. “Good. So it matches you.”

He blinked, and you almost regretted the jab—until you saw the way the corner of his mouth lifted, barely, like a secret between you.

“Dark and bitter,” he murmured. “Just like me.”

You took a sip. It was terrible. Burnt and sour with an aftertaste like regret. You looked him straight in the eyes.

“Speak for yourself. I’m fucking delightful.”

You were slouched back now, one leg kicked over the other, sipping your sugar-soaked coffee like it was actually palatable. Outside, the gray streets of Bucharest moved on—slow, indifferent, same as always.

Bucky’s eyes drifted down from your face to the red leather jacket slung over your shoulders. It was too bright, too clean for a place like this. Too loud for someone like you.

“That’s a lot of jacket for someone trying to stay low,” he muttered, eyeing it like it offended him.

You scoffed, as you smoothed your hand over the sleeve. “I love this jacket. You have no taste.”

He huffed a breath. “I’ve got taste. That just ain’t it.”

You gasped, setting your cup down with a clink. “Excuse me. This jacket is iconic.”

His brow lifted. “It’s loud. You look like a traffic light.”

“I look fabulous,” you corrected, smoothing a hand down the sleeve. “And this is the first thing I ever bought for myself, okay?”

He blinked at that. “That?”

“Да,” you said, chin up. “You don’t like it?” [Yes]

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbled, but the twitch in his lips gave him away.

You narrowed your eyes. “You did not not say it.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking beneath him. “You still look ridiculous.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your mouth. “That is rich, coming from man who wears the same three Henleys on rotation.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “They’re comfortable.”

“And this is freedom,” you said simply. “The point is… I’ve never had control over my own life before. I want to do things now. Stupid things. Selfish things. Bright red jacket things. And I think you should want that too.”

That shut him up for a beat.

You didn’t push it. Just looked down at your drink, tracing the rim of the cup with your finger. When you glanced up again, his expression had softened—those sad eyes of his lit with something quieter. Warmer.

“I think your jacket’s cool,” he said, voice low.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

You grinned again, slower this time. “I get you matching one.”

His face immediately scrunched. “I’m good, thanks.”

You leaned back smugly. “I get you one anyway.”

He shook his head, but there was no bite to it. Just the faintest quirk of a smile he didn’t bother hiding this time.

────────────────────────

His Apartment

The apartment was barely a place. The walls were cracked in some places and water-stained in others. The furniture was sparse—just a torn couch, a table that wobbled if you leaned on it wrong, and a mattress on the floor in the next room. But it was safe. Or safe enough.

The stereo in the corner played something modern and vaguely electronic. It fuzzed in and out, like even it didn’t want to be here. You lay sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown over your eyes, foot tapping out of rhythm to the beat.

Bucky sat nearby in a folding chair, arms resting on his knees, watching you like he didn’t quite understand how someone like you ended up in his space.

How you, with your loud voice, bright jacket, and endless sarcasm, had carved yourself into the quiet corners of his life.

He hadn’t gotten used to the music you liked—shrill, repetitive, too fast. He’d told you as much. “It’s noise,” he’d said.

“I am noise,” you’d replied with a grin. “Get used to it.”

And somehow, he had.

Around you, the silence didn’t ache the way it used to. You filled it, even when you weren’t speaking. It was your presence—commanding and unbothered, like you were meant to be anywhere you sat.

He didn’t know how it happened. One day he’d just found you, or maybe you'd found him. In an alley in Warsaw, bleeding from a gunshot wound, muttering in Russian as you crouched beside him and said, “I’m not saving you because I care, I’m saving you because you owe me now.”

You’d been by his side ever since.

He reached into the drawer of the flimsy side table, pulled out the small, black notebook, and held it out to you wordlessly.

You shifted, eyeing it with some suspicion before sitting up just enough to take it from him.

“What’s this?” you asked, flipping it open.

“Things I remember,” he said, voice rough. “Bits. Fragments. I write them down before I forget again.”

You flipped through it slowly, eyes scanning a list of names, dates, odd phrases.

“‘Red sock in a white wash’? This a code?”

“Laundry accident. Brooklyn, 1936.”

You snorted, and he swore you smiled just a little softer than usual.

“‘Train smell. Winter. Steve’s mittens.’ That one sounds like the setup to a bad poem.”

“Smelled like coal and metal. He used to take his gloves off to share with me.” His voice drifted a bit, like the memory was speaking through him more than he was choosing to share.

You leaned your head back against the couch again, notebook open on your stomach. “You are sentimental old man,” you muttered.

He looked at you like you were sunlight through a window—something warm he never quite thought he deserved.

“And you're loud,” he said quietly. “Even when you’re not talking. I can’t hear the silence when you’re around.”

You cracked one eye open and smirked. “Good. It’s an annoying silence. Brooding and sad. Very you.”

He huffed a laugh, eyes still on you.

You flipped to another page, still lounging back on his couch, one leg dangling off the side. The paper was creased and worn, filled with a list in neat Cyrillic script. Your eyes narrowed.

“What’s this?” you asked, tapping the page lightly with your finger.

Bucky glanced over absently from the table where he’d been cleaning a disassembled pistol. “What?”

You didn’t wait. The words slid easily off your tongue, your Russian fluent and unthinking.

“Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать, Рассвет—”

[Desire, Rusty, Seventeen, Dawn]

His head snapped up, the rag in his hand falling to the floor with a soft thud.

“Stop.”

You didn’t hear him—too caught up in your mockery, still thinking this was another relic from his past you could tease him about. Your voice took on a theatrical lilt as you continued.

“Печь, Девять, Добросердечный, Возвращение, Один—”

[Oven, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One]

“Stop.”

But you were already at the last word.

“Товарный вагон.” [Freight Car.]

The silence after was suffocating.

You looked up, still grinning—ready to make another snarky remark.

But he was staring at you.

Not in that usual, quietly fascinated way. Not the soft, storm-swept gaze that always felt like it saw more than you were willing to show.

No, this stare was hollow. Still. Too still.

The warmth was gone.

“Bucky?”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, posture rigid, jaw locked, eyes fixed on you like he was trying to calculate something. Or waiting for something.

Your pulse quickened.

You sat up fully, the notebook slipping from your hands and falling to the floor with a soft flutter.

“Bucky, what—” Your voice faltered.

You stood slowly, movements careful, like approaching a wild animal. His breathing was steady, mechanical. His hands were relaxed at his sides, but there was something wrong in the way they hung—too precise. Like they belonged to someone else.

You took a hesitant step toward him.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked quietly, tilting your head.

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even twitch.

His silence pressed in on you, heavier than the broken ceiling above, thicker than the smoke that sometimes drifted through the window from the street.

Then it hit you.

The page.

The words.

Your stomach dropped.

“Bucky…” You whispered his name like a lifeline, like saying it softer might bring him back.

Still nothing.

Just those empty, soldat's eyes staring through you.

You swallowed hard. “Come on. Say something.”

But he didn’t.

Your mouth became dry.

You took a step back, eyes locked on his. They didn’t follow your movement—not in the human way, not in his way. They tracked you like a target. The realization settled cold in your gut.

You licked your lips, heart hammering in your chest.

“Солдат…” you said softly, reluctantly. A test. A plea. [Soldat]

His posture shifted instantly, his chin lifting just slightly, shoulders drawn tight.

“Готов подчиняться,” he replied without hesitation, voice flat. Hollow. Obedient.

[Ready to comply.]

The breath left your lungs.

Shit.

No no no.

This couldn’t be happening.

You felt your stomach twist violently, and the words slipped out before you could stop them.

“Блядь…” you muttered, horrified, under your breath. “Чёрт, трахни меня—” [Oh, Fuck me]

“Понял.” [Understood.]

Your eyes snapped up, wide, just as he moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Before you could take another breath, his hand was at the back of your neck, the other on your waist, and then his mouth was on yours—rough, forceful, devouring. There was no hesitation, no question. Just action.

His lips crushed into yours like a command being executed.

And the worst part? Your body didn’t pull away.

It froze.

Caught in shock, in the wrongness, in the heat of it.

You barely registered the wall against your back before you felt his hands—strong, unrelenting—gripping your thighs. The torn leather of the couch creaked beneath you as he lifted you like you weighed nothing, pressing your body flush against his without pause, without question.

Your breath hitched.

“Bucky—no—” you gasped, palms against his chest. It was solid, unmoving. “Wait—this isn’t—”

But he wasn’t listening.

His lips moved from yours to your jaw, to your throat. Rough, possessive. He kissed like he was claiming you, like he’d waited too long and now he was making up for lost time. His mouth found the soft skin beneath your ear, sucked hard enough to bruise.

A broken sound slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

You hated that part of yourself—the one that’d thought about this. That had looked at him too long, too often, wondered what his hands would feel like wrapped around your hips. What his mouth would taste like.

But this wasn’t him.

Not really.

“Soldat,” you tried again, voice cracking, fingers curling weakly into the fabric of his shirt. “Stop—”

But even as you spoke, his grip didn’t falter. His hands roamed with precision, with purpose. Like he knew exactly what you needed before you did.

And somewhere inside those glacier-blue eyes was something burning.

Not cold. Not mechanical.

Hunger.

Longing.

Bucky had wanted this. Wanted you. Maybe not like this. Maybe not so brutally, so suddenly. But it had been there—in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, in the weight of his silences, in how he never pulled away when your shoulders brushed.

And now all that want had been uncaged.

The Soldat was moving like he’d been given orders.

But the man you knew—he was still in there.

You could feel it in the way his fingers trembled for just a second at your waist.

His breath was harsh against your skin, uneven—like he hadn’t drawn a real one in years until now. Like you were the first breath of air after a long, dark silence.

His hands moved fast. Too fast.

Fabric tore.

The sound of your top splitting down the middle echoed like a gunshot in the small room, the cotton giving way in his fists like it was paper. You gasped, chest exposed to the cool air, to his burning stare.

“Wait—Bucky—” you started, but your voice was swallowed beneath the weight of his body pushing you back onto the couch.

He didn’t say a word. Just hovered over you, braced on his elbows, eyes devouring every inch of bare skin like it was the only thing that existed. His pupils were blown wide, mouth parted like he was starving.

And maybe he was.

Maybe the Soldat was hunger without outlet. Maybe Bucky had been starving too—silently, patiently.

And now?

Now that leash had snapped.

His mouth was on your collarbone, open and hot, teeth dragging roughly. He kissed you like he didn’t care if it left marks—like he wanted it to.

One hand slid beneath your thigh, lifting it over his hip. The movement ground his body closer to yours, and you choked on a breath, caught off guard by how right it felt—how wrong it should’ve felt.

“Soldat—” you tried again, but this time your voice was barely a whisper, barely a protest.

His body was shaking, barely controlled. Like if he let go of even one thread, he’d tear through everything between you. Like he wasn’t following an order now—he was answering a need.

Your need.

His need.

He lowered himself further, breath hot against your breast as he dragged his mouth across your skin, reverent and brutal all at once.

And all you could do was clutch at his shoulders, your mind screaming that this wasn’t him—

But your body? Your body didn’t care.

And so you didn’t resist.

Not really.

Maybe it was the way his hands gripped your hips—tight, trembling like restraint was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Maybe it was the way his breath caught when your nails dug into his shirt, clutching him like a lifeline even as he pushed you deeper into the cushions.

Maybe it was that part of you that wanted to be taken.

By him. The man. The weapon. Both.

His weight settled over you, all muscle and heat and presence, like he needed to feel every inch of you against him to believe you were real. His hips rutted against yours, rough, desperate, like he was trying to bury himself in your very existence.

“Скажи мне нет,” he rasped against your throat, voice fraying at the edges. [Tell me no]

But you didn’t.

Your legs wrapped around him tighter, drawing him in, anchoring him.

He groaned—a real sound, a human sound—and it rattled through his chest as he ground down harder, clutching at your body like it was the only thing keeping him from shattering.

You let him. You let him take you.

Because you’d seen the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. You’d heard the longing buried beneath his silence. This wasn’t just the programming.

It was him.

It was all of him.

And when his mouth crashed down onto yours again—rougher this time, teeth catching your lip—you moaned into it, fingers twisting in his shirt, holding on as he moved with a desperate rhythm, like he didn’t just want you—

Like he needed you to keep from disappearing.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were on his own shirt, fists bunching in the fabric. One violent pull, and it was gone—ripped at the seams, flung aside without a second thought.

And then it was skin.

Hot, scarred, solid.

His chest pressed against yours, the rough drag of his skin over yours sending a shiver down your spine. You arched into him instinctively, needing the contact just as much as he did.

He growled—low and broken, more animal than man—as his hand found your bra and shredded it in one sharp tug. The snap of elastic was lost in the haze as his mouth dropped immediately to your chest, lips latching around one nipple, tongue circling with fervent, uncoordinated hunger.

“Ебать—” you gasped, head tilting back as your nails raked down his back, leaving angry trails in their wake. [Fuck]

He groaned against your breast, the sound vibrating through you. His hands were everywhere—one gripping your waist like a lifeline, the other palming your other breast, thumb swiping over the peak with desperate precision.

There was no rhythm to him. No practiced seduction. Just need.

Raw and overwhelming and real.

Every kiss, every scrape of teeth, every press of his body screamed a single truth: he didn't want to just fuck you—he wanted to feel you. Carving the memory of you into his skin, into his blood, like he didn’t trust the world not to take you away too.

You clung to him harder.

Not because you were afraid he’d hurt you.

But because, in that moment, you were terrified he’d stop.

You didn’t notice the shift at first—just the sudden absence of weight, the cold hit of air against your skin.

Then your eyes opened.

He was between your legs.

Kneeling, eyes burning, chest heaving. His fingers worked fast at the waistband of your pants, yanking them down along with your underwear in one swift, impatient motion. Your legs twitched involuntarily as the fabric slid past your ankles, discarded without care.

He stared at you like he was starving.

“Боже, посмотри на тебя,” he muttered under his breath, reverent and ragged. [God, look at you.]

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open, dragging you to the edge of the couch like he owned the space between your legs.

You opened your mouth to say something—his name, a protest, a prayer—but the words died as his head dipped low.

“Моя...моя вдова,” he breathed, just before his mouth touched you. [My widow.]

And then—

Heat. Tongue. Pressure.

You gasped, hand flying to the back of the couch for balance as his mouth found you, tongue moving like he’d been trained for this too—like even in this, he wanted to master it.

He groaned against you, low and helpless, like your taste ruined him.

“Так хорошо...” he mumbled, voice muffled, worshipful. [So good…]

Your fingers buried in his hair instinctively, hips jerking against his mouth.

There was no finesse. No teasing. Just hunger.

And he was drowning in you.

His tongue was relentless—broad strokes, then sharp flicks, lips sealing around you with a precision that shouldn’t have been possible from someone this desperate. But he was intent, focused like a man on a mission, like your body was the only thing grounding him in reality.

Your thighs clenched around his head, back arching off the couch, and still he didn’t stop—if anything, he held you tighter, dragging you impossibly closer to his mouth, like he needed more of you, like you were slipping away and he couldn’t bear it.

You gasped his name—not Soldat, not a command—just Bucky, soft and raw.

And maybe he heard it.

Or maybe he just needed more.

He pulled back just enough to murmur something, the words lost under his breath, hoarse and reverent—“Я хочу внутри, я хочу чувствовать тебя, мне нужно чувствовать тебя...” [I want inside, I want to feel you, I need to feel you…]

Then you felt the cool press of metal.

Your breath caught.

His metal hand, fingers thick and gleaming in the low light, slid slowly between your thighs. He spread you with one, then pushed a finger in—slow at first, but with no hesitation. The contrast was electric: heat and steel, your body slick and pulsing around him.

Then another finger.

You whimpered, nails scraping across his bare shoulders as he curled them just right, just so, his mouth returning to your clit like he couldn’t stand being away from it.

The stretch, the weight of him inside you, was almost too much—but your body sang with it. Welcomed it.

“Ты сделана для меня…” he whispered against you. [You were made for me.]

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

All you could do was hold on as he devoured you—mouth and metal working in brutal rhythm, dragging you higher, deeper, closer to a place you couldn’t come back from.

Your moan cracked in your throat—raw, strangled—as he thrust his fingers deeper, curling them just right, just perfect, while his mouth locked onto you with maddening precision. The heat in your belly coiled tight, then tighter, your body trembling beneath him, straining toward the edge with every wet, ruthless stroke of his tongue.

And then—

You shattered.

Everything broke.

You cried out, head thrown back against the cushions, legs shaking violently as you came hard against his mouth, his hand, his name barely a whisper in your lips—“Bucky—”

He didn’t stop.

Not until you were gasping, twitching, until your hands gripped his hair and pushed gently, weakly, needing space, needing air.

He pulled back—just barely—and looked up at you.

Hair a mess, face slick with your release, eyes blown wide with hunger.

“Я не могу больше ждать,” he whispered, voice ruined. [I can’t wait anymore.]

Then he was moving.

Fast.

Rising up, his fingers leaving you with a wet sound that made your hips buck involuntarily. He fumbled with his jeans—his hands weren’t shaking, but you were. He shoved them down, not even bothering to take them off completely—just far enough to free himself, and then he was on you again.

Hard thighs between yours.

Heavy, hot, bare against your soaked skin.

You felt the press of him—thick and already pulsing—at your entrance.

He hovered for a breathless second.

“Я должен быть в тебе,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. [I need to be inside you.]

And then he pushed in—deep, with a groan so guttural it punched through your chest and made you moan again, your nails clawing into his shoulders, into the scars and the skin that was all his, all real.

He filled you in one slow, brutal thrust.

And he didn’t move.

Not right away.

Just stayed there, buried to the hilt, shaking with the effort to hold back, to not come from the sheer feel of you wrapped around him.

You breathed his name again, softer this time. And he looked down at you like he’d been lost for years and just now found his way home.

His hips snapped forward again, dragging a rough moan from your throat as he filled you to the hilt, then pulled back only to slam into you harder, deeper. Over and over—no rhythm, no finesse—just a brutal grind of body on body, like he needed to feel every inch, every pulse, every contraction of your body around him.

Your thighs locked around his waist instinctively, heels digging into the small of his back, holding him there, in you, as if you could stop the world from spinning with just that grip.

His mouth was at your shoulder, his breath ragged and hot as he snarled half-broken curses against your skin—words you didn’t need to understand to feel. They bled need. They bled ownership.

“Твоя... моя... так туго... так тепло...”

[Yours. Mine. So tight. So warm…]

He rutted into you like an animal, like something had come loose inside him and now there was no going back. The couch creaked beneath you, the frame groaning under the force of his thrusts. The slap of skin echoed off the walls—loud, wet, constant.

You clawed at his back, nails digging in deep, dragging over muscle and scar tissue. He hissed but didn’t stop—only fucked you harder, faster, sweat dripping from his brow, jaw clenched like he was trying not to fall apart right there inside you.

You were moaning—raw, helpless, your head thrown back as he pounded into you, each thrust sending fire up your spine. Your hands gripped him like he’d vanish if you let go.

And beneath all of it—his breath, your cries, the obscene sounds of your bodies crashing together—was that undeniable truth:

You didn’t want him to stop.

His thrusts grew more erratic—less controlled, more desperate.

He was fucking you like a man coming undone, like if he stopped, even for a breath, he’d fall apart completely. Every snap of his hips was rougher than the last, the slap of skin on skin filling the air, raw and unrelenting. Your body rocked beneath him, pinned under the full weight of him, legs wrapped tight around his waist as he drove deeper, harder.

“Чёрт, не могу—” he gasped into your neck. [Fuck, I can't—]

You could feel it—the way he was trembling now, not just from the force, but from everything else. From what he was feeling. From what he didn’t know how to process.

And still, he thrust.

Over and over, burying himself so deep it felt like you’d never be empty of him again. Like he needed to put something inside you just to prove he was still real, still alive, still human.

“Ты… ты заставляешь меня чувствовать,” he choked out, voice breaking.

[You… you make me feel.]

You held him tighter, nails raking across his back, hips rolling up to meet him every time, matching him, grounding him, even as you felt his rhythm falling apart.

His breath hitched—once, twice—then turned into a sob.

A real, broken sound torn from somewhere deep inside.

He pressed his forehead to yours, still thrusting, still moving, but now he was shaking. Eyes clenched shut, jaw tight with everything he couldn't say.

“I can’t—” he whispered, in English this time. “I can’t—you—”

But he didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Not until he’d buried himself in you one more time—so deep, so hard—and everything inside him shattered.

He came with a strangled, guttural cry, hips jerking violently, arms locking around you like if he let go you’d disappear.

And even as his body trembled and spilled into you, his face was buried in your shoulder, hot tears slipping silently onto your skin.

Because he was feeling. And it hurt.

But he was with you.

His breathing was still ragged. His body still trembling.

But slowly—slowly—the rhythm of the moment faded. The rush of adrenaline, of heat and friction and need, drained from his limbs like a dying storm.

And the silence that followed?

It was deafening.

He froze.

Still buried deep inside you, still wrapped in your warmth, your scent, your body—but everything about him changed in an instant.

His arms, once tight around you, loosened.

His breath caught. Not from exertion.

From realization.

“No,” he rasped. The word cracked, sharp and breathless, like he didn’t believe he’d said it aloud. “No, no—fuck—”

He started to pull back. Away from you. Out of you. Like his body had committed some crime his mind was only just registering.

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—” His voice shattered as he tried to extract himself from your grip, shaking his head like it would rewind the clock. “I hurt you—I—I used you—I didn’t want—”

You grabbed his face before he could escape.

“Нет,” you whispered, firm. [No.]

He froze again, caught in your hands, his eyes wild and wet and full of something you’d never seen in him before.

Fear.

Disgust.

Shame.

“Look at me,” you said, voice low. “Посмотри на меня, Джеймс.” [Look at me, James]

He did. Barely.

“I let you in,” you whispered. “I wanted you.”

“But I—I wasn’t—me,” he stammered, throat thick. “I was him.”

“You were you, too,” you murmured. “And I knew it was you. Even if you didn’t.”

His face crumpled, the last of his defenses giving way as he collapsed against you, burying his head in your neck, his body still shaking—not from pleasure now, but from the weight of the world crashing down on him all at once.

Your fingers slid into his hair as he clung to you.

You murmured soft in his ear—like prayer, like song.

“Тише… всё хорошо… я с тобой… ты безопасный…”

[Easy… it’s alright… I’m with you… you’re safe.]

He didn’t answer.

Just held on tighter. And you let him.

Because you weren’t going anywhere.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #the winter solider x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter solider fanfiction

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nekonaps0 · 9 days ago

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Excuse me… SIR?! Pt2

✦part1 part3

✦ characters: second years

✦ gn!reader

✦the boys suddenly cracked a naughty, suggestive joke

✦you guys really loved the “You are NAUGHTY!!” Series so what if we switch it up and the boys gonna surprise you this time!?👀

Riddle Rosehearts

It was an innocent study session. He was helping you prep for exams, sitting primly across from you. Then, as you leaned down to reach your notes, he blushed immediately and looked away one hand covering his flushed cheeks:

“It’s awfully hard to focus on spellwork with you my rose.”

You froze and raised an eyebrow confused.

“What?”

He didn’t even look up from his textbook he hid behind the pages.

“J-Just pretend I didn’t say anything…”

Your face is burning when you finally realize what’s happening, and now you’re the one who can’t focus. Now both of you sit next to each other like two tomatoes

And somewhere Cater definitely taking pictures of this beautiful scene.

Ruggie Bucchi

You were helping him with chores, teasing him about always working so hard. He tossed a towel at you and replied with a wicked grin:

“Well, I’d work even harder if I got a reward. Maybe something sweet. Like… you wearing nothin’ but an apron and that smile.”

Dead.

You choked. Dropped the soap.

“Ruggie! You can’t just say stuff like that!! Anyone can walk in here!”

He howled laughing.

“Aw, look atcha~! You’re so easy to fluster, it’s adorable.”

You tried to slap his arm, he dodged, still laughing, tail flicking behind him in amusement.

“Careful, babe. Keep lookin’ that cute and I might just cash in that apron fantasy.”

He won’t stop bringing it up. You’ve created a monster.

Azul Ashengrotto

You were helping organize some contracts when Azul adjusted his glasses and looked over at you, completely composed:

“You know… most deals require a bit of negotiation. But for you? I’d gladly trade everything, my dignity, my control… even my clothes.”

You fumbled the papers.

“H-Huh?! Azul?!”

He smiled. Smooth. Polished.

“Unless… you're in the mood for more intimate arrangements?”

You stared at him like he’d grown gills.

“A-Azul!! WHO THOUGHT YOU THESE?!?”

He was eating your embarrassment up. But now he concerned that maybe he made you uncomfortable

“Im sorry my pearl, the twins suggested that you may like this”

…they were not wrong… but please let him to know that he didn’t mess it up!!

Jade Leech

You were fixing a terrarium together. Your fingers brushed his, and Jade leaned in just a little too close.

“My, how delicate your touch is. I wonder… would you be just as gentle if you were holding something far more sensitive?”

You blinked. Jaw dropped.

“J-Jade?!”

He tilted his head, innocent smile on his face.

“Ah? Have I upset you? You seem... flushed.”

You tried to stammer out a response. He only chuckled and returned to the moss with a calm smile.

“I do so enjoy your expressions. Perhaps I’ll provoke a few more before the evening ends.”

You will not survive this eel.

Floyd Leech

You were relaxing and cuddling together in the bed when you leaned over to grab your phone. He immediately laughed and threw his arm around you:

“Ooooh~ Are you trying to seduce me, Shrimpy? With that pose? ‘Cause it’s working~”

You looked at him like he’d lost it.

“I was just getting my phone—!”

“Uh-huh. Suuuuure you were~ Next time just crawl into my lap and make it obvious~”

You squeaked. He howled with laughter, poking your cheek with a teasing grin.

“Hehe~ Look at you goin’ all pink! You’re sooo cuuute when you’re flustered~ Maybe I’ll tease you more~”

You are now his favorite game.

Jamil Viper

It was late. The two of you were alone in the Scarabia lounge. You yawned, stretching your arms above your head. He glanced over. Cool, calm… and then:

“Careful stretching like that in front of me. I might think you're offering something.”

You froze. Eyes wide.

“W-What did you just say?!”

He raised an eyebrow, acting indifferent… but that smirk tugging at his lips? He knows what he just did.

“Mm? Just speaking aloud. Don’t read too much into it.”

Liar.

You’re dying. He’s thriving.

“...Unless you want me to.”

Kalim Al-Asim

You were resting against him, just talking about your day, when Kalim suddenly laughed and said:

“Y’know, I think I love you more than all the gold in the vaults. Actually… if you wore gold and nothing else, I’d love you even more~!”

You choked.

“K-Kalim?!”

He blinked, confused, then laughed again.

“What? I meant it! You’d look so good with just some glitter and maybe one of those sheer scarves, like in the dances! But you look stunning in everything.”

You were a blushing mess. He thought it was cute.

“Awww, you all red, you look adorable! Do you need anything? Water or fruits?”

You regret everything. And the worst part that he doesn’t even realize what kind of effects he has on you.

Silver

You were trying to wake him from a nap. He stirred, eyes half-lidded, and murmured:

“Mm… If you’re going to climb on top of me like that, love… at least buy me dinner first…”

You immediately yelped and flailed away.

“Excuse me?!”

He blinked. Realized what he said. Instantly red.

“W-Wait—! That wasn’t—I didn’t—!!”

Now you’re blushing, and he’s flustered, and both of you are too awkward to look each other in the eye for the next twenty minutes.

Secretly? He’s proud he made you blush.

..............................................................................................................................

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davinawritings · 22 days ago

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OnlyFans Full Of Monsters Part 2

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Penetration, Knotting, Fantasy Sex Toys, Copious Amounts Of Cum Like Lube, Creampie (Sort Of)

Part 1

You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you position your camera. Your laptop is already open and just waiting for you to press the button to go live. You have a few more minutes before seven, and you try to collect yourself.

The dildo suctioned to the floor in front of your bed is equal parts exciting and nerve-wracking. When your lovely werewolf subscriber decided you’d be fucking a knotted dildo, your excitement was through the roof. You had yet to try a knot, and the thought of taking one for the first time on camera made your pussy wet and tingly.

The first thing you did after that live was browse online for the perfect dildo. You spent quite a while browsing before finding the one. You ordered it with rush shipping and were grateful that it arrived this afternoon just in time.

Looking at how thick the knot is, you think you may have been a little more adventurous when looking at its picture online. The shaft is long but not the longest you’ve taken before, probably about seven inches. Its impressiveness is truly in its knot. It sits at the base, and you cannot wrap your hand around it to have your fingers touch. You are slightly nervous about being able to take it, but that’s overshadowed mainly by your arousal to be knotted.

You fill the three hundred milliliter syringe with the thick white lube before attaching it to the tube connected to the dildo. You set it to the side and sit yourself next to the werewolf cock. As soon as the clock turns to seven, you go live.

You give the camera a sultry smile and say, “Hello, my lovely monsters. I’m so glad you could join me tonight and be here for my first knot. Hopefully, I’ll be getting knotted regularly from now on”. You grab the bottle of lube and pour a more than generous amount over the thick dildo. You continue to stroke as you read through the comments, reading some of the more descriptive ones aloud for your audience.

Once you have it thoroughly slick and ready, you kneel over the dildo and shift your hips so the wet tip is pressed against your dripping entrance. With a smile on your face, you begin sinking down the slick cock. The shaft alone provides a good stretch, and you moan at the feeling.

You stop when the fat knot starts to push against your entrance, giving your hips a little roll and causing the dildo to shift around in your sensitive pussy. You pull back up until only the tip rests inside you before dropping yourself back down until the top of the knot.

You continue bouncing up and down but keep yourself above the knot, not quite ready to try taking it yet. You use your hands to caress your body, pinching and pulling at your nipples as your tits bounce with your movements.

You look back to see floods of comments, doing your best to read them and respond between moans. “Fu–uck, yes! Mmhhh feel so good. I wish this was your cock stretching me open”, you say to your camera.

You lean over slightly to grab the large syringe, using a good amount of pressure to push the thick lube through to the dildo. You can feel it as it floods your pussy, slickening your cunt even more and creating a white ring on top of the knot as you slide up and down. You only pushed about a quarter of the syringe in, but you’re already so full with the slippery white cum like lube.

You take a look at the comments and groan at their words.

Comment Section:

AlphaWolf992: Fucking gorgeous. I wish I was there with you, little one. I’d knot you so good.

HumanLuvver69: Take the knot like a good girl. I wanna see that tight human pussy stretched open on that fat knot.

Mr.TentaclesXXX: Hmmmm, you would look so pretty with my tentacles in all your holes.

FeralFucker111: I need you to sink down on that knot, baby. Let me see that pretty human pussy swallow up that big knot. I want to see you filled to the brim with cum, baby. Fuck I would fill you with my cum and knot your tight cunt if I was with you right now.

DaddyOrc33: Perfect little human. Come on. I need to see you cum. Wanna see that pussy clench on that monster cock. Fuck I hope you fuck an orc cock next. Wanna see you stuffed and leaking orc cum so bad little human.

You wish you had these monsters with you right now. You can only imagine what it would be like to get fucked dumb by a real monster. Although, for right now, this werewolf dildo is doing a great fucking job.

You pull up and off the tip, hovering above the big dildo, and you smile as you watch a torrent of thick white cum drip out of your cunt and make an even bigger mess of the dildo. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the chat going crazy.

“Alright, my loves. I think it’s time to try and work my way up to really take this knot. I think my pussy is nice and ready for it,” you say. You see the comments flood with encouragement and neediness to see you knotted.

You give the camera a beaming smile as you thrust down on the dildo again. You sit just above the knot again when you stop and pick up the syringe again. You give another hard push until it reaches about halfway. You moan as it coats your warm cunt and slides down the dildo.

You lift up and down again, shifting your hips just slightly so the tip nudges against your g-spot on each stroke. You whine softly as pleasure shoots through your body, climbing higher and higher with each stroke of the cock inside you.

You widen your legs, bringing your core closer to the floor and the knot. On the next stroke down, you push further the beginning of the knot, pushing against your entrance and making your breath catch in your throat.

You lift up again and drop back down using gravity to your advantage. You get the first part of the knot in, but not quite to the largest part. You reach for the syringe again, giving a slight push to add even more lube.

You lift slightly before dropping all your weight downwards. The knot pushes against your tight hole, and you groan at the stretch. The widest part is just outside your entrance, and instead of lifting up to try again, you push down harder and circle your hips. Moans spill from your lips as the knot slips in millimeter by millimeter.

You cry out as the thickest part slides inside you, the rest of the knot following after, and the dildo pushes even further inside you. You moan and bounce up and down in small movements, keeping the knot in your wet heat.

You grind your hips as your thighs begin to shake, ecstasy spreading through your nerves. You push on the syringe again, and more creamy white lube floods your pussy, through the knot keeps it locked inside you.

You glance at the camera as you say, “I’m so close. I feel soooo full. Oh my- fuck I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna c-cum!”.

You throw your head back as your pussy clenches around the cock inside you. You moan freely as you ride every wave of your high, pushing on the syringe over and over to fill yourself with the cum-like lube. Each push stuffing your fluttering pussy more than you thought possible.

With a final whimper, you stop moving your hips, taking a moment to enjoy the afterglow of your orgasm and the overwhelming fullness you feel. As you come back to your senses, you look at the screen, smiling at all the comments from your monsters.

You shift your eyes over to your camera and stroke your hand lightly over your lower abdomen, where a slight bulge is. You pull up hard and fast, whimpering as you pull the knot from your overstuffed cunt. You keep going until your pussy hovers over the tip of the cock, watching in slight amazement as the cum-like lube pours out of you and drips down to the werewolf cock. It keeps going on and on, and you moan slightly at the feeling and the puddle forming beneath you.

You give the camera one last sultry smile as you say, “Alright, my loves, that’s it for today. I’m so happy you could be with me for my first knotting. I can assure you it definitely won’t be my last. Make sure to come see me again on Tuesday. I can’t wait to see which monster cock I’ll be taking next”. You blow a kiss to the camera as you hit the button to stop the recording.

You’re already excited about your following live and finding out which monster you’ll have next week. As you look at the messy werewolf cock in front of you, you can’t help but want round two right now. Well… you’re already nice and stretched… a few more rounds of knotting can’t hurt.

Let me know if you liked it! Also did you like having the comment section with some of the comments written out?

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baiwu-jinji · 27 days ago

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After the arrests last year of danmei authors who published their works on the Taiwanese website Haitang, the authorities have allegedly arrested another 200-300 authors, many of whom took to weibo to share their experiences recently.

What struck me is how the authors always blamed themselves for not being cautious enough or being led astray by their financial needs, but nobody put the blame on the unjust rules and the greed of the authorities that led to their arrests - not that they would dare to. It's an utterly bizarre situation that, as a new danmei English license seems to be announced once every few days here on the other side of China's Great Firewall, within China the persecution keeps getting more rampant and the danmei community feels more and more cornered and frightened. Reality is always more surreal than fiction.

I translated some of the author's weibo posts, please see below:

“I knew I was being naïve and over-optimistic (about the repercussions of writing danmei), so I can’t blame anyone. Sometimes I want to resent society but then I’ll give up the thought. As for the criminal punishment, my view on it is still the same - I even feel that I’m different from those who engage in prostitution; after all, I made all this money by typing my stories word by word. Yet when I got into trouble, people talked about it as if I didn’t have to work for my income.” - This is from an author who wrote danmei because her family’s poor and she wanted to save money to travel. She got into a master’s programme before this and the programme kicked her out because of her arrest.

“Ever since I was little, I’ve always been the well-behaved golden child in my parents’ eyes. I had the best grades among my peers and won scholarships in both high school and university. When we visited family during New Year and other festivals, my parents were always proud of me in front of our relatives. But that day I shamed them thoroughly and the shame will always stick around...I love the characters I wrote very much, planning and creating their stores always brought me so much happiness and fulfillment. But a mistake is a mistake. I want to use my personal experience to admonish others - don’t try to go against the regulations in any way ever, don’t put yourself in the slightest bit of risk.”

“I’ve never felt this horrible in my entire life. I’ve always firmly believed that nobody in this world could be that bad. My rose-tinted glasses were broken along with my romantic expectations for the world. My values and outlook on life were shattered. When something like this happens, perhaps only the family of the author involved and the author herself would be hurt deeply! It’s just business for everyone else!”

This one’s written by the author’s sibling: “Another sleepless night. Tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival, and it’s been three festivals since we could be together...I’ve felt remorseful for countless times that I didn’t contact more people and I felt that I haven’t done enough. I prayed to the gods and the Buddha for more times in the past two months than in the past 30 years. Besides asking for the Heaven’s protection and blessing, what else can we do?...You supported yourself financially during university solely by doing part-time jobs. We’ve always put too much importance on money, and that’s how we allowed you to make a mistake.”

(link to the original weibo posts: https://x.com/whyyoutouzhele/status/1928763362541818266)

#danmei

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okwonyo · 4 months ago

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CUFFING SEASON 𓂃 gymrat!enhypen 𓈒

𝗜𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗭𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗘 ✶ ────── 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗒. 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗒.

엔하이픈 & fem!rea 14OO fluff established relationship cautions kissing skinship ˊᯅˋ altero

❛ 姫　❜ thanks to danipie for the heeseung prompt and tam for jakes >< plus to jenn, tam and pockemonz for being my emotional support 🎀

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG ｡｡ ever since you moved in together, your boyfriend likes to walk around with a tank top embracing his upper body, showcasing his biceps and making you daydream about his chest.

frankly, this habit of his isn’t new to you— back when you lived in different apartments, he would always open the door while dressed in that sort of clothes.

you admired his arms for a while during the long times whereas you were together. gaze dragging over his hands to reach his biceps, you always wondered if the ribbon you put in your hair could fit around his big muscles.

“do you think it’d fit?” the ribbon is held between your index finger and your thumb as you question your boyfriend.

he looks at his biceps then at the pink hair accessory in your hand. seeing the sheer happiness on your face, he smiles “we can always try, sweetheart.”

wiping the grin off his face as he watches you wrap the thing around his flexed bicep is impossible. it is fun and you find it irresistibly hot— wrapping his arm is like marking him as yours. and you both love it.

JAY ｡｡ honestly, you think you are dreaming even now, deep in doze still, when you step into the kitchen and are met with a heaven-sent view in front of you.

with a mouth agape and eyes growing wide, you admire the back of your boyfriend. you want to thank whoever created gyms and thank your fortune for making your boyfriend such an addict.

his muscular and defined back shines, stares back at you as he is focused on making breakfast. the laces of the pink apron he wears on top of his naked torso wraps his waist perfectly.

it feels like heaven when your cheek collapses on his hot naked skin. you hug his waist like a teddy bear— almost melting into his skin. and god, he smells too good.

it’s dreamy when he kisses the top of your head, “good morning, baby,” he greets you, but you are too enamored by the vision of his broad shoulders a few moments ago to respond just yet.

you only hum, thinking that today will be a great day.

JAKE ｡｡ your phone rings as you are making yourself lunch. upon picking it up, a breathy voice reaches you through the phone. given the hour of the day, you don’t need to double check to know who it is.

“hi, princess, you good?” he greets you and you can hear the grin in his tone. a groan comes quick after— proving his current physical effort and confirming that he is at the gym, as he always is.

“yes, i’m good, jake,” the deep breath you take makes you able to respond after a few seconds. the next question is automatic, “how are you?”

“’m good, babe, i’m on the lat pulldown machine right now.” it would have been better, way better, if he hadn’t said that. or if he never showed you what a lat pulldown looks like.

but he did, and you cannot wipe the image of him sitting, his wide shoulders flexing alongside his back as he pulls the lat down. it makes you feel dizzy, him groaning again doesn’t help.

due to your silence, he continues. his voice is whiny, your knees get weaker, “i’ll finish my set quickly and take you on a date, alright?”

imagining him at the gym makes your whole behind fragile. your voice is locked in your throat and you tongue won’t move. but you’d let that man take you anywhere he’d like— the frail sounds of agreement you make are a confirmation of it.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ “stop moving around,” he commands, rather gently. his smile is too big for his words to be an order, he is so close to you that you can’t stop giggling. but you do stop moving.

the man’s beauty hits you one more time as your eyes focus on him. your boyfriend has his hands either side of your torso, next to your arms while you lay down on the floor.

he lower himself slowly, his lips brush over yours ever so gently, a quick kiss before he pushes on his arms and gets in his initial position. he is the one who got that idea, claiming that it’ll motivate him more.

it is in the privacy of your living room that he does another push up, his chest presses against yours when he lowers himself. this time, the kiss linger a little more than the last one.

you should have known that this exercise wouldn’t last long. it takes him less than three pushups to start focusing on your lips a little too much. “you know what? nevermind.”

his weight drops on you, a little ‘oof’ escapes from his mouth and a gentle ‘sorry, darling’ does the same from his. you kiss him back quickly when his mouth gets on yours.

SUNOO ｡｡ when you first met, his gym journey wasn’t as long as it is currently. therefore, you were used to his old, already quite muscular build. when he started going more regularly to the point where it was almost everyday, the changes weren’t very obvious to you.

of course, you knew he was getting more buffed every passing day but you didn’t realize how much until now. when your head is resting on his chest, covered by the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

it takes you a bit to realize how firm his chest feels under your resting head. you stay still for a moment, then your eyebrows furrow as you rub your cheek against his chest.

his arms tighten around your form, and you realize that his pecks are not the only parts that got more muscular. his chest vibrates as he laughs, “what are you doing?”

taken out of your examination, your gaze shoots up. it’s absurd how his natural cute face is on top of that kind of build. “since when are you hulk?”

JUNGWON ｡｡ during the time when he isn’t getting on your nerves or teasing you, he spends his energy on lifting weights at the gym and working on his muscles.

therefore, you know how well his body is built. you can tell, honestly, whenever you surreptitiously peek at him while he takes off his shirt to put on a hoodie instead. his big shoulders and small waist looks back at you, his beceps flex as he folds the clothing piece.

his muscles might be one of his greatest assets, to both send you into a spiral and irritate you the most. because being manhandled everywhere by your boyfriend creates an eruption of butterflies in your stomach but not being able to fight back makes you want to bite him.

“leave me alone!” you laugh when he lifts you off the floor in a swift mention. you are unable to move your arms as he jailed them in his embrace when he rushed to you.

the man quite literally throws you on your shared bed, making your body bounce against the mattress. you are breathless from both laughing, running away from him— even more when you find him on top of you.

you try to push him away when he leans closer. well, not really trying, because you don’t put any strength in the process. he ends up getting his kiss at the end, and he is quite content about it.

RIKI ｡｡ after occupying your room more than you do, even when you are not here, it is natural for him to have a place in your dressing where he can put his clothes.

the first time you thought about it, there wasn’t any big deal or issue related to it. it is the natural course of things, and you love that he is always there with you.

but it gets harder for you when he actually changes. when he takes off his shirt right before your eyes, letting you have a look of the creation he worked hard to have.

embarrassment becomes a prominent emotion in your head whenever you catch yourself staring at his defined abs. it is torture, you cannot yake your eyes off of them.

only a short amount of time passes before he notices it. soon enough , your boyfriend is smirking at you with his shirt in his hand, “like what you see?”

it’s a shame that you actually do. rather very much than not.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

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im-no-jedi · 2 years ago

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not me creating an entire original story based off a scenario in the Sims alsjfskskdjskfks

#we just got a few new packs #including City Living and Get To Work #so of COURSE I had to create an alien character #I made him up as I was going along #and decided to put him in an apartment next to the dance club #and now I’ve got a whole story thought up about him #coming to earth and trying to be a normal human #fascinated with the idea of dancing and socialization #also he’s actively looking for a mate #so I’ve also come up with an idea for a lady neighbor that he falls in love with #I’m gonna play this all out in Sims and then probably write it down haha #I’ll show off my new boy later; I need to make the girl now 😁

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gremlingottoosilly · 2 years ago

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I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin.

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm.

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after.

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well.

— I’ll find something to eat, alright?

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged.

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you.

— Ah…your father is at home?

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was.

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you.

— You didn’t tell him about me?

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly.

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh.

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart.

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home.

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed.

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen.

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid.

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished.

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel.

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son.

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl.

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it?

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years.

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like.

— Ja. You can have it.

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it.

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you.

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him.

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home.

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you.

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom.

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you.

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet.

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz.

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce.

— What do you mean by this, sir?

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally.

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid.

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship.

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you.

König is.

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you.

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man.

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this.

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father.

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too.

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir.

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing.

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all.

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks.

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies.

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right?

You look like a good candidate.

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz.

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left.

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here.

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body.

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him.

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is.

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway.

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all.

— I don’t want to break his heart.

— He doesn’t have one.

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it.

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted.

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game.

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later.

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum.

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please”

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable.

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later.

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before.

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people.

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right.

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore.

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid.

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second.

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this.

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it.

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed.

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good.

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father.

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it?

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul.

— I’ll tell him.

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck.

— I need to return to my dorm.

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja?

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right.

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen.

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked.

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are.

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja?

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere x reader

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