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kleptokure · 3 months ago

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Sensitive Soul Jams ‪‪❤︎‬

Burning Spice Cookie, Mystic Flour Cookie, and Shadow Milk Cookie x GN!Reader (separate)

(a bit suggestive !) (inspo from this post, by my lovely mootie ᡣ𐭩 )

-` ᰔ ´-

Burning Spice Cookie ⟢

The day was progressing as it always does. The heat blazes down from above, and the scent of spice wafts through the strong breeze. The Tribe of Wild Spices seem to have everything under control since the capturing of Kulfi is showing positive signs.

There was not much that their lord needed to step in for. Golden Cheese Cookie was captured, and the remainder of his Soul Jam was returned to its proper owner. It would appear the afternoon could not get much more grand.

Although he craves havoc, Burning Spice Cookie settled for an activity less disastrous: a playful brawl between him and his lover.

It never fails to be a joy when roughhousing with you. The outcome of the battle can only be anticipated. Either he wins due to his pure strength, or you do by catching him off guard with your quick wits. Regardless, he will revel in the result. A fight that is not so dull is rare for him, so he appreciates your liveliness.

Nearing the canyon close to his temple, the two of you commenced a battle. Burning Spice Cookie charges at you with his weapon in hand and a large grin plastered on his face. You dodge him by a smidge, your arm brushing against him in the process.

Burning Spice Cookie's smile falters, and his movements come to a slow, giving you an opportunity to strike. Yet you do not, due to noticing the change in his behavior. It is not the most common to see him with a poker face, causing you to rethink the prior moments.

You did not attack him; rather, you had some momentary contact. With his Soul Jam, to be specific. It was quite brief, but you find there to be no other reason for his slight stillness. It is obvious his desire for battle remains, so it would be silly to think otherwise. Testing the matter once more would be the sole way to find out.

Your chances are cut short when his normal behavior returns, a chuckle emitting from his way as he dashes at you another time. Burning Spice Cookie has you pushed against one of the pillars supporting his temple, his parashu near your neck to trap you.

While it seems the position plays out in his favor, his actions also give you a chance to strike up your new objective. Burning Spice Cookie inches closer, his face nearing yours. He can sense the taste of sweet victory already. All of a sudden, his attention is rerouted, and his grin falls flat out of surprise.

The Beast of Destruction detects a soft touch landing on his Soul Jam, a certain hand gliding across the edges of the crimson triangle. The feeling is new to him, and he does not know how to welcome it. The sensation causes a sheet of warmth to fall over him, as if he were an animal going through mounds of petting.

Quickly, he jumps back, putting a distance between you two. Burning Spice Cookie narrows his eyes, looking your way. He can spot the smugness across your face. It is clear you know what you did, and he will get you back for it. Though his mind still lingers on the topic. Why did he feel so weak in that moment?

"What's wrong? You almost had me there," you taunted, snapping him out of his thoughts. For once, Burning Spice Cookie does not have a response. He himself finds the situation to be odd, but he is aware it has to deal with some part of his Soul Jam. Surely he did not grow a flaw, he believes. That would be absurd.

"I will not allow you to crumble so soon," he excused, covering up the truth that you both know. This time, your lover is hesitant to come forth, as he has acknowledged the slight inferiority he gained. Instead, he watches as you dash towards him. Even so, you do not aim for an attack, and Burning Spice Cookie notices. It should be pretty clear on what you plan to hit.

The beast dodges, sliding to the right. You follow right after, causing him to elude you once more. Although he swerves your strikes, your lover finds the circumstances to be hilarious. It is surprising you managed to cause a challenge for him, making him all the more excited. Unfortunately, his excitement led him to a predicament.

While Burning Spice Cookie is fast, you were able to catch up by the slightest inch. He experiences the smallest touch of your palm near his Soul Jam and has to resist himself from going still. He does not know when or why he's gotten so sensitive.

By now, he had decided to stop his evasion. He is the Great Destroyer, a name you whisper with fear. Why is he running from another? It does not matter if that other may be his lover; he should stand his ground.

Burning Spice Cookie stops, and to his surprise, you do as well. Did you grow tired of teasing him? He hopes so, but at the same time, he wishes for more of this little game.

His eyes are trained on you, growing nearer to him with each slow step you take. You stand a breath away from your beloved's face, and your hand rises closer to the Light of Destruction. This time, he will allow you to do such. It would be better for him to find out more about the pestering feeling rather than resorting to negligence.

The moment your palm touches his Soul Jam, Burning Spice Cookie releases a breath. Without words, you press your hand firmly against the shiny red shape. The receiver of your touch feels as if his mind will go to mush. He may have been sweating earlier due to your spar, but now he sweats for a different reason.

Your hand feels so warm, tracing the edges of the triangle engraved to your lover. Burning Spice Cookie wonders if his Soul Jam had always been so delicate. It's rare for a cookie to grow so close to him, so he would have never guessed.

Looking upwards, you lock eyes with him. You have yet to lay your eyes on such an expression. His brows are furrowed, and his constant smile lowered into a shaky frown, like he gained no enjoyment from this. You can hear the uneven breaths that emit from the beast. How funny it is to see him experiencing new emotions.

Burning Spice Cookie raises his hand, which now wraps around your wrist. You assumed he could take no more stimulation; however, he keeps your hand in its placement. The beast grits his teeth at his own actions, refraining from letting any noises escape him. He could already feel a rumble in the back of his throat, and he did not wish for further sounds to come up.

Just to make matters worse for the unsteady cookie, you position yourself lower, now face-to-face with the object of his power. Burning Spice Cookie foresees your next move, and he cannot come to deny it.

Your lips press against the smooth gem, a soft kiss taking place as your final blow. It is nothing short of effective. The cookie with spice carved into his dough, the cookie who spends perpetual time under the blaring heat, feels like he has managed to melt into jam, all because of a small kiss. He had to gulp down the drool he built up, or else he'd create a mess.

You do not plan to end your attacks here. Burning Spice Cookie is fierce until the end when he indulges in your shared spars; it would only be fair to reciprocate.

Pressing your hand to his Soul Jam, you make sure to be firm with your movement. A consistent, pestering rub for him to endure. His grip on his weapon grows weaker, but he refuses to drop it. He feels as if doing such would be a sign of weakness and has not lost this battle yet.

His eyes appear to stare back at yours, yet you get the sense he stares through you. Something must be stuck in that pretty head of his. Too bad you do not know what.

Your hand rubs the borders of his Soul Jam, which seems to be to his liking. You are close enough to hear the whirr springing from your lover, despite the tough front he has on. Just a bit more, and your victory is guaranteed.

Burning Spice Cookie decided to stop fighting against the feeling you give. Leaning into your touch, he strengthens the charge that shoots through him. He has endure many hot subjects, but he does not recall a heat such as this.

You believe your lover's headspace is nothing more than a white space. Burning Spice is entirely zoned out, and you even led him to purr. Although he might not declare it, you have won without a doubt.

With the beast weakened, you lift your hands, cupping your lover's face. As adorable as he is right now, you would like to point out another detail.

"I win," you stated, and Burning Spice Cookie cannot muster up words to say anything against your declaration. If he were not at a loss for speech, he would surely say you cheated. You cannot just abuse the power you hold over him! But, oh well, you did. Besides, he does not appear so displeased over that fact.

Of course, now you are obligated to take care of Burning Spice Cookie until he regains his right state of mind. This is all because of you, anyway. You won't leave your lover hanging, will you?

Mystic Flour Cookie 𖢻

The wind blows a harsh gust after another, a certain flour gusting through the wind. A cookie would think to flee, giving themselves an attempt to escape the pale ailment. It would be useless in the end, but it is amusing to watch them try. For you, the weather is one to take a breath in. There's nothing like the flour fog to stand amidst each day.

Of course, spending the morning with your beloved improves the dawn by a long shot. Mystic Flour Cookie is a lady of grace, and you will always be grateful to have been blessed with the sight of her every day. The cookies that dared to take your lover for granted in her past are nothing more than doughbrains.

You tend to go the extra mile with your care, slowly erasing the misery in her memories during the process. For once, the apathetic cookie could admit she feels appreciated. You must be a gift from the Witches; an apology for her suffering. If so, she has accepted the present with open arms.

Despite how emotionless Mystic Flour Cookie may appear, she makes sure to return your endearment in her actions so you'll never feel mistreated. Many call you a terrible duo due to the anguish you both cause, but all cookies return to flour at some point. Those who think otherwise are doughbrains too.

Nonetheless, even those who are opposed cannot come in the way of your wonderful relationship. The moment as of right now proves how pleasing your connection with Mystic Flour Cookie can grow.

Underneath a dumpling tree, the beast rests in a sitting position. The shade the tree provides offers a nice area to relax. You have your head laid in her lap, a common place to spot yourself in.

Mystic Flour Cookie tends to meditate elsewhere, a location at the top of many stairs, but this time, she decided to take a more scenic route. After the two of you decided to take a simple stroll at sunrise, you arrived where you both are now.

The beast has her hands caressing your face. One brushes against the side of your face, and the other lifts your hair away from your expression, which gives herself a lovelier sight of your features. Her touch is soothing, and her hands are soft when in contact with your dough. Sleep could come easy under situations like this. Yet, a sudden thought appears, keeping you awake. You feel the need to share your ideas with your lover.

"Mystic Flour Cookie," you called out in a low tone. Her motions stop, a signal that you have her full attention.

"Would you mind if we switched places?" With your question out, you wait for her response. As always, she keeps her silence, but you can notice the mental debate ongoing within her head. It does not take long before you receive your answer.

"Very well," your dearest replies. Mystic Flour Cookie does not mind being on the receiving end of gentle touches. After all, she is the main one to give them to both you and her pet haetae. She is sure the change of positions would not be distressing, especially since they shall come from her beloved.

With confirmation presented, you sit up to remove yourself from the comfort of the Beast's lap. The two of you shift until perfection, and now Mystic Flour Cookie has her head placed on your lap. Her veil nearly falls off, but she would not care much if it did anyway.

She appears so divine that any cookie would be jealous that they are not the ones this close. You cannot help but reach forward, your hand taking place on her cheek. Your palm brings warmth to her usually cool dough, and Mystic Flour Cookie leans the slightest bit closer.

Soon after, you fiddle with her hair, combing your hands through the pasty icing, which felt like silk due to how well it was cared for. You can simply hope your dearest experiences the same feelings she gives you.

The beast of apathy would admit that she does feel at ease, so much so that she believes a nap would be in order, even though sleep is not a requirement. It would not be the first time she rested near you, so it would fail to be a problem.

She perceives one touch, belonging to you, idly rubbing the side of her face. The other hand runs through her hair while also being careful not to cause any strands to stick out. A soft sigh makes its way from her lips. She deems the gentle combing more enjoyable. This should happen much more, she believes. Was this the bliss she has been gifting to the guardian of her temple this entire time?

Alas, she felt your hand remove from petting her any longer. Then, your touch begins to trail further up. Mystic Flour Cookie assumed you would undo her bun, to which she would not be opposed, but her expectations fall flat. In reality, your next act is far more alarming.

Your next placement lies onto the light of Mystic Flour Cookie's power, her Soul Jam. Her face twitches for a slight second, which skips past your notice. Even though the weight of your hand was so delicate, her head endures a flicker of going faint. Conditions worsen for the pale beast when you begin to stroke the rhombus-like shape.

She feels strange. Overly so, as if you were embracing her into one of your sweet hugs, but this time around, the tenderness comes stronger. She was unaware that her Soul Jam could bring these sorts of emotions. It is not common for a cookie to get this close to her for such to be known.

At first, Mystic Flour Cookie believes the sense is one to come and go. She would not say she minds it. In fact, the beast nudges into the sensation you have unknowingly offered. Extra affection that stems from you will never fail to be savored on her end.

Though the truth soon brings itself forward. The buzz refuses to dim down; rather, it grows more prominent. It seems it was accompanied by a stronger warmth as well. All the while, your interest in her Soul Jam remains, along with your constant rubs.

Now, Mystic Flour Cookie notices how the heat of her jam feels as if it is increasing. Perhaps comparing this to a mere hug was the wrong choice, as your touch lures out different reactions. Though it is not exactly shown on your lover's face. She still looks graceful, per usual, and you are too concerned with the pale shape to notice her speed in breathing escalating.

While this may appear as a problem for the beast, she makes no attempt to point it out. Pain is not imposed upon her, so there really is no reason to bring this to your attention, she thinks. After all, she has said every inch of your love is to be relished. Mystic Flour is not one prone to changing opinions.

Your hand brushes over the point of her gem, and she releases a shaky breath. No matter your delicate manners, she shudders at each movement, a small tremble in her hands.

"Is something the matter, Mystic Flour Cookie?" Your inquiry catches her off guard, and her eyes open partially. You were bound to notice her unusual behavior eventually, which was unfortunate for her.

"...No," she lied. After realizing her own peculiar gestures, Mystic Flour feels foolish. It is strange for her to act so inappropriately, in her own words. But can she truly hold herself liable? Love did not exist much in her reality, as she believed it would be futile in the end. She becomes greedy when it is given. You know this, don’t you? You surely would not mind. As her lover, of course.

Although she noticed the suspicion laced in your expression, you continued with your curiosity, and your hand placed onto her Soul Jam once more. She hums when you do so. A stronger sound rests on the tip of her tongue, but she refuses to let it be heard.

With the light hue of her dough, she is sure her cheeks are noticeably flushed. She is unable to prevent much of that, as the heat from your contact is much stronger. She rests in a cooler region, so encountering a warmth as this nearly brings her to overheat. You can only point fingers at yourself if she were to diminish to crumbs.

She would not mind, though. Mystic Flour Cookie accepts the truth of her turning into flour, too. If it were to be from your hand, then her bliss would only grow stronger. In her perspective, that appears like a preferable way of crumbling.

Just carry on with what you do. Get used to it along the way. She foresees herself asking for another headpat quite soon. As her partner, you would be delighted to, wouldn't you?

Shadow Milk Cookie 🂱

Swaying side to side, you rest upon a grand chair placed in front of an extravagant show, which was orchestrated by none other than Shadow Milk Cookie, your cherished one.

It is nothing short of a routine, observing the beast commence yet another of his countless performances. All the same, you view each one with fondness. For you, it comes as hard to feel disinterested when he organizes each presentation so meticulously, and it is all intended just for you.

You look ahead, watching the small cut-out of a certain Soul Jam thief grow puny under the sights of his superior enemy. It is always amusing to watch some simple foreshadowing. Clapping your hands, you prompt your host to continue with your sign of approval.

There are a few acts that include this specific scenario. In this particular plot, the ending contains the lovely crumbling of the thief. What more could a cookie ask for? That was a grandiose display.

"Bravo!" You applauded once more, watching as your entertainer bowed down in a show of his gratitude. Roses get thrown to Shadow Milk's stage, not from any definite cookie.

"Thank you, thank you!" He sends his kisses to the false audience. Somehow, they are all sent your way. What a silly accident. Nonetheless, you catch each one.

Shadow Milk Cookie hops off of the platform, floating his way towards you at an eager pace. You hold out your hands, awaiting his own to receive them. Throwing his staff to the side, the deceiver believes your grasp is more significant than a measly stick.

His hands cup yours, pulling himself closer to shorten the distance much too large for his taste. The ill-famed eyes he possesses stare lovingly into yours.

"I refuse to leave such a dazzling host empty-handed. Surely, you require something in return?" You jest, a proper tone held in your speech. Your lover refrains from giggling. He decides to play along with your proper front.

"Oooh, but I could never! Your presence is more than enough," he protested, but that answer fails to satisfy you. Shadow Milk does plenty for your sole benefit. Would it bring him to crumbs just to ask for repayment?

Perhaps you may be lesser in reality, but that means little. You are certain your affection brings him more joy than meets the eye. All you can do is be left to wonder how starved the jester is if affection is all it takes to reimburse him. Nonetheless, that need of his is being met now.

"I believe a dance is in order." Your hands hold a firmer grip as they grasp onto his. Starting up a slow waltz, you coax the deceiver into a dance laced with the genuine adoration you retain for him.

"Well..." He drags on, which would leave you in a brewing suspense, yet that falls short when a soft tune falls upon your hearing. You can assume his answer when a floating gramophone appears out of the blue.

"Since ya asked so nicely, I suppose I can spare a minute or two." You managed to woo your notorious lover once more, an expected outcome. Placing your hands onto his waist, you feel Shadow Milk's arms slide around your neck, ensuring a formal stance. The moonlight peeks through a window, spreading a blue light across the space. The moment feels straight out of one of the many fairy tales Shadow Milk has told.

You move in sync with your partner, eyes heavily trained on one another. He does not blink, you notice. That would probably unsettle any other cookie, but you tend to welcome his odd habits, so nothing much is different.

The dance goes along smoothly, with movements careful and following the pattern of the music. However, the usual bores Shadow Milk Cookie, so he finds it hard to stay within those borders. All of a sudden, a foot steps on yours, causing you to stumble over your planned choreography.

Not to worry, as your trickster here catches you before you could get the chance to fall over. Don't point your fingers at him; it was merely a misplaced maneuver on his end. Though it is hard to believe such when you are aware of how skilled the cookie is when it comes to waltzing around.

"Woopsie!" Not an exact apology, yet you do not plan to scold him or say much else for that matter. With the gramophone's classical music coming to a halt, you believe there should be a closing for your dance that is just as suitable.

You stand upright, having rebounded from your unintended tumble. The soft melody arrives at its stop, and you both stand in your places. Your touch lingers on his satin clothing. The pleasant silence floats by, as Shadow Milk's broad smile gives you the hint that he is beyond delighted to participate in your waltz.

Approaching your beloved's face, you intend to get rid of the gap between you. While the beast would find rejecting your kiss humorous, he cannot deny himself wanting to lean in as well. He does so, closing his eyes in like manner and awaiting the intimacy he craves.

In an instant, his multicolored eyes open at the same moment. His attention is brought to an abrupt case: your lips are pressed to his Soul Jam. That differs much from the mark he had foreseen you gracing your touch with. Your impromptu deed brought out conflicting passions, too.

Your kiss was no simple peck. You ensured a lengthier smooch was made against the Light of Deceit. The extended action allowed more feelings to be processed on his end. It was amusing, you thought, until you raised your sights on your lover's incredulous face. His expression lacked any theatrical essence. Had your joke landed the wrong way?

"Shadow Milk Cookie?" Whispering his name, you are patient for his reaction. While his stare does return to gazing into your own, the deceiver's response is absent. Though, you caught view of the deeper shade of blue swirling on his cheeks. It appears you had flustered the beast in a way untold.

"I didn't know you were ticklish," you teased, your smile curving upwards, while Shadow Milk's lips did the opposite. Being blindsided to the truth goes heavily disliked by him. He was unaware his Soul Jam was so... delicate. You cannot trick the trickster! At least, not in any books he has read. Shadow Milk Cookie may be the slightest bit annoyed, but he could not deny the warm thrill that shot through his body.

Shadow Milk Cookie's feelings resemble a volatile batch of blueberries. One is a bit too sour, making his hair flow around with a mind of its own, and one is just right, sending a pleasant tingle on his tongue. Please, give him another kiss for him to grasp whatever it is he truly feels. It would bring him to crumbs if you denied. The Light of Knowledge still resides within him somewhere.

You seemed eager to deliver, placing a peck onto the slit that is carved into his Soul Jam. Even though your affection was quick to leave, Shadow Milk Cookie giggles on this go-around. He believes he understands now. Some excitement never hurt any cookie. If that is what his new discovery brings, so be it.

Shadow Milk Cookie will allow you to hold this one power over him. If it makes you feel superior, then go right ahead. He is sure your peck is simply tickling him, or something along those lines.

Since your lover does not seem opposed to your actions, you follow your impulse: peppering the pretty shape in more kisses. Once again, you lead a row of chuckles from the cookie that others somehow fear. A hand on your shoulder, Shadow Milk Cookie keeps you in place, tempting you to continue.

Then, Shadow Milk Cookie's laughing grows breathier, almost forming into a soft pant. An overdose of delight hits him in the face. His grasp on you tightens, as opposed to pushing you away. Now digging into your shoulder, his grip serves as a quiet reminder to keep himself composed. He did not expect his outlook to be wrong.

Perhaps the rush he's receiving is a bit much, coming out of nowhere, but he gives no care for that. The jester has never felt such an exhilaration before, and he can't help but want more—to explore the strange pulse you present him with. His eyes dilate due to both excitement and realization. Looks like the power you hold over him is stronger than he assumed.

He can not believe you still persist with your torrents of love. Though his gratitude lies underneath. The amusement you bestow is far too grand to be discarded without delay. So grand that you pressured his mind to blankness, his thoughts blurry as he puts all of his focus on your sole touch.

For once, Shadow Milk Cookie truly believes he will faint. Even though all of his rational urges tell him to stop feeding into this passion of his, he continues. He would rather chase the depths of overstimulation, and he would do so without remorse. Embarrassment was merely sprinkled into his dough.

Unfortunately, the pleasure he seeks was snatched from him. The distance grows when you reposition yourself, backing away from the fervid man. If it weren't for your arms glued around Shadow Milk Cookie, he would have slumped on the cold floor amidst the large, quiet room.

With his head leaned back, he huffs, descending from the high you had brought him to. Though it was shaky, a smile remained etched across his face. The aftermath leaves a buzz residing across himself. Your lover jolts at random intervals, as if lightning struck him with mere gratification.

Shadow Milk Cookie looks your way, attempting to gauge your reaction through his blurred vision. Surely, all of his panting was audible. It would be silly to consider you did not know the measures of your actions.

He spots a smile of innocence iced on your face, but a flicker of mockery darkens your eyes, revealing your real ambitions. Shadow Milk Cookie can not come to say he dislikes your expression. In reality, he was never aware of how intoxicating it is to be inferior for once. He would not be against this as a pastime. Or an all the time.

His stare focuses once you begin to move. Unexpectedly, you approach his brooch anew. Shadow Milk Cookie was always one for surprises, so he would not mind another round of his brain turning to dough.

In the mere second of your breath hitting his Soul Jam, his trembling harshens. Even so, he tilts your way to quicken the process. Shadow Milk Cookie believed he would grow accustomed to your onslaughts of kisses, but he could not prepare for your next deed.

Your tongue glides inside of the slit that marks his Soul Jam, coating the crevice with your saliva. That marks the moment you break Shadow Milk Cookie, who releases a high-pitched mewl in response. His quivering will never come to an end at this point. He was left with a shred of sanity before, but now? You have taken his stability and his dignity.

There is only so much the jester can handle. Shadow Milk Cookie goes limp in your arms. He fainted from the pure elation, one he had not even experienced in his earlier days. Maybe now he will stop inferring things about you. It rarely ends well.

At the moment, you have an extremely vulnerable beast in your arms. The power you hold is immeasurable, literally. Yet you would rather his minions not take sights on him. It is not the worst option to keep him to yourself for the time being.

You will be right by his side when he wakes—only to tease him for the way he behaved. And probably go about it again.

-` ᰔ ´-

#burning spice x reader #burning spice cookie #mystic flour x reader #mystic flour cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #crk x reader #gn reader #cr kingdom #crk #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #x reader

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these-lovely-monsters · 10 months ago

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Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 1

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, bondage, choking

Trying out some tentacle smut for the first time 🙈

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

One night, you're getting ready to go to sleep when you accidentally knock your chapstick off your nightstand. It clatters to the floor and rolls under your bed. Grabbing your phone, you turn on the flashlight and shine it underneath the frame. But when you look, there's nothing under your bed but dust bunnies. You definitely saw the chapstick roll under there but now it's just...gone. Now that you think about it, little things have been disappearing from your room lately. A few hair ties, the little rocks you found by the beach which you left on your dresser, the pen you were using to write in your journal. But you have no idea where those things could have gone. Maybe you're just imagining things?

Deciding to deal with your disappearing stuff in the morning, you turn off the lights and climb into bed. As you're settling into your nest of pillows and blankets, you think you hear a faint rustling sound in your room. Freezing, you strain your ears, listening for the sound but you're met with silence, punctuated only by your racing heart. It was probably just the sound of the sheets moving as you got comfortable, right?

You settle back into bed, willing your heart rate to slow down, and try to fall asleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning, you decide that a good orgasm will probably distract you enough and help you relax. Flipping onto your back, you slip one hand into your underwear and start gently rubbing your clit. With the other, you reach under your shirt and knead one of your breasts, pinching and rolling the nipple.

As you start to get more and more wet, your breathing gets heavier and you let out a little moan. You're getting lost in the pleasure that's building inside you until you feel something cool and silky wrap around your ankle. Yelping, you scramble up into a kneeling position and quickly flick on the bedside lamp. Heart in your throat, you're ready to face whatever it was that touched you but nothing is there. Ever so slowly, you bend over the edge of your bed to peer underneath but there's nothing there either. Jeeze, you're definitely just going crazy at this point. Looking over at your lamp, debating whether or not you should just leave it on and try to sleep that way, you see your chapstick sitting right there on the nightstand. What the fuck?

You're contemplating the integrity of your sanity when you hear the rustling sound again. Whipping your head around, you see something reaching out from under your bed. Screaming, you scramble backwards, plastering yourself to the headboard. Gasping for breath, you stare at the freaking TENTACLE that's hovering at the foot of your bed. After a moment, it slowly uncurls its tip and drops something onto your sheets. It gently nudges the thing towards you and then retreats back a few feet.

For a moment, you stay frozen, afraid of what the tentacle will do next. But then, curiosity gets the better of you. Slowly, you reach out your hand towards the object and then snatch your arm back once you have it. Inspecting it, you realize it's a small, shiny pearl that you've never seen before. Where did this come from? And why is the tentacle giving it to you? Looking up, you see another tentacle reaching up from the other side of the bed and you gasp, shuffling back again. This one slowly reaches towards you but stops a few feet from you and drops another object on your bed. This time, when you inspect the object, you find it's a beautiful crystalline necklace pendant. Is it giving you gifts?

Too absorbed in the objects, you don't notice that the first tentacle has reached out to you again until it gently wraps around your wrist. Yelping, you try to pull away but it tightens its grip on your wrist. Then the other tentacle reaches up to your face and gently presses the tip to your lips as if to shush you. Too startled to react again, you stay frozen as the tentacle moves from your mouth to pat you on the head. Then it starts gently caressing your cheek while the first tentacle slowly winds around your wrist. As you try to control your breathing, you take a moment to inspect the tentacle wrapped around your arm. It’s inky black and the surface is cool and silky to the touch. The tip is about the width of your finger but it widens to about the diameter of your thigh towards the base. You also notice that it’s lined with suckers that get bigger as you scan further down the appendage until it disappears under the bed.

The tentacles actually feel kind of nice against your flushed skin and it’s being surprisingly gentle as it explores you. One of the tentacles lifts a strand of your hair, twirling it around the tip. The other slithers across the front of your shirt, bunching the fabric up as if testing the texture. Suddenly another tentacle appears by your leg and pokes at your toes. That tickles and causes you to giggle. It pauses, listening to you laugh and then does it again. You’re about to tell it to cut it out when the one playing with your shirt snakes under the hem and up your stomach. Freezing, you hold still as it winds around your breast and then flicks your nipple with the tip as it squeezes. Gasping, you let out a little moan because that actually feels really good.

This is probably so many levels of wrong but you don’t get time to contemplate your sanity any further because another tentacle snakes up your leg and into your underwear. Before you can jerk away, the tip slides through your wetness and tickles your clit. It gives you a few flicks and then attaches one of the suction cups on the end to your bud. Gently pulling until the suction cup pops off, it repeats the action several more times, pausing to flick your clit now and again. Groaning, you realize you’re still wound up from your earlier unfinished masturbation and need some release. Deciding to say fuck it and let this monster do what it wants with you, you sink back into the pillows while it continues to explore you.

As you get lost in the pleasure of one tentacle on your clit and two more on your breasts, you feel more wrap around your ankles. They gently pull you down, spreading your legs wide as even more wrap around your wrists, doing the same so that you’re now bound, spread eagle in the middle of your bed. You should be afraid, and you are a little, but yet another tentacle reaches up into your underwear, plunging into your pussy and there’s not a single coherent thought in your head. A moment later the bedside lamp flicks off and your room is plunged into darkness. Now you can’t see anything and you can’t do anything except lie there listening to the wet sounds of tentacles fucking you as you feel them slithering across your skin.

You writhe and moan as tentacles squeeze and tickle your nipples and clit, while others suction to your stomach and thighs, making loud popping sounds as they pull off and reattach themselves. The one in your pussy plunges in and out, curling inside you, trying to fit as much of itself in you as it can. The more it pushes inside, the more your walls stretch around its girth and the sensation of fullness becomes overwhelming. Eventually, the tip inside you finds your g spot and you cry out as it flicks the spot over and over again.

Yet another tentacle wraps around your throat and gently squeezes, not enough to completely suffocate you but just enough to make it a little difficult to breathe. Completely at the monster’s mercy, with your entire body pinned down while it fucks you, your pleasure erupts and you come harder than you ever have before. You arch your back as your walls clench around it while the orgasm washes over you. When you finally come down, you sag into your bed, completely spent and satisfied. You feel one of the tentacles reach up and caress your cheek again as you quickly drift off into a heavy sleep.

The next morning, you wake up with a start, memories of the night before turning your cheeks pink with embarrassment and arousal. It must have been a dream because there’s no way that happened. But when you lift your shirt, you see little round sucker marks covering your skin. Smiling to yourself, you get up and start getting ready for the day, hoping your new guest visits you again tonight.

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

Well this was supposed to just be a few paragraphs of smut but then I kinda got into introducing the tentacle monster lol 🤷‍♀️

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

#monster fucker #terato #monster lover #monster smut #monster x reader #monster #tentacles #these lovely monsters #tlm tentacles #tlm stories #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster girlfriend #f!reader #gn!monster #eldritch

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flux1563 · 2 months ago

Text

Seeking attention ft karina

Words :7k

Tags : squirt, titfuck, creampie

"You're not listening to me, Karina," groaned her friend Winter, her voice cutting through the buzz of the crowded cafeteria.

Karina's eyes snapped back to Winter, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face before she plastered on a smile. "Sorry, what'd you say?"

"I said, you're not listening again," Winter repeated with a knowing look. "You've had your eyes on him all week."

"Him?" Karina played coy, but her cheeks betrayed a soft blush as they turned towards the figure Winter indicated—Y/N, the enigmatic scholar who sat at the corner of the room, nose buried in a book. His tall frame and chiseled features made him the center of attention without even trying, yet he remained oblivious to the whispers that followed him. "What about him?"

Winter rolled her eyes. "Come on, Karina. You can't ignore the fact that every guy in class wants a piece of you, but you're pining over the one who barely notices anyone exists outside of his textbooks."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the start of another dreaded afternoon class. Karina's heart skipped a beat as she gathered her books, her thoughts racing. Winter's words echoed in her mind—everyone else saw her as the object of desire, but she only had eyes for the unattainable. The one who didn't seem to care about her curves or her smile. The one who was perfect for her, yet so out of reach.

As the students shuffled out, Karina took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenge she was about to undertake. She had to get Y/N's attention somehow. She had to make him see her beyond her body. An idea began to form in her mind—she would ask him for help with her homework. It was a simple plan, but it was a start.

That evening, Karina found herself standing nervously outside Y/N's apartment, her heart pounding in her chest. She had sent him her address earlier in the day, hoping he wouldn't think it strange. The door creaked open, and there he was—his piercing gaze meeting hers, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Hi," she managed to squeak out, her voice betraying her nerves. "I, uh, I need help with my homework."

Y/N looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a curt nod, he stepped aside to let her in. "Follow me," he said, his voice low and even.

The apartment was small but meticulously organized. Textbooks and notepads lined the shelves, and a faint scent of coffee lingered in the air—a stark contrast to the chaos that was Karina's own living space. She followed him to a clutter-free desk, her eyes scanning the room for any personal touches that might give her a glimpse into his soul. But there were none, just the cold embrace of academia.

He sat down and gestured for her to take the chair opposite. "What do you need help with?"

Karina's mind went blank. The words she had rehearsed on the way over escaped her. "Everything," she blurted out, feeling like a fool.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his lips. "Everything is a broad subject. Be specific."

Her cheeks burned as she opened her book to a random page, her thoughts racing. This wasn't going how she had planned. "Just...just math," she stuttered. "I'm really bad at math."

For a brief second, she thought she saw a flicker of something warm in his gaze before it was gone, replaced by the cold detachment she had come to expect from him. "Alright," he said, pulling out a notepad and pen. "Where shall we begin?"

And so, the night of tutoring began—a dance of numbers and formulas that Karina stumbled through, eager to impress him with her ability to learn. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more she needed to do to capture his heart. Little did she know, the real lesson of the evening was just about to start.

Y/N's patience was unyielding, breaking down complex problems into bite-sized pieces that she could digest. His eyes never left her face, watching as she struggled, nodded, and finally, clicked with the material. It was as if he could see into her mind, understanding her thought process and gently guiding her to the right answers. The way he spoke—so calm, so certain—was like a balm to her frazzled nerves.

As the hours ticked by, Karina's mind began to wander. The way Y/N's fingers moved with precision across the page, the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he concentrated, the way the light hit his sharp jawline—it all painted a picture of a man who was more than just intellect. He was a masterpiece of focus and discipline, and she found herself drawn to him in ways she hadn't anticipated. Her thoughts grew hazier, and the room felt hotter, her heart racing as she stole glances at his strong arms.

The math grew simpler, but the air grew thicker with tension. Each time their eyes met, there was a spark—quick and fleeting, but it was there. Karina's cheeks flushed, and she swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as she wondered if he felt the same. She tried to shake off the thoughts, telling herself to focus on the task at hand, but it was no use. The more he taught her, the more she found herself adoring him—not just for his brains, but for the way he made her feel seen.

Her bladder finally decided it had had enough of the emotional rollercoaster and interrupted her thoughts. "I need to go to the bathroom," she said, a bit too loudly, her face flushing deeper.

Y/N looked up from the book, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he nodded towards a hallway. "First door on the left," he said, his voice a bit gruffer than usual.

In the bathroom, Karina took a deep breath and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The idea that had popped into her head in the cafeteria now seemed silly and desperate, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to do something drastic. With a shaky hand, she turned the faucet the wrong way, watching as the water spurted out and drenched her shirt. Her heart raced as she called out, trying to sound more panicked than she felt. "Y/N! Help, the sink's broken!"

The footsteps grew closer, and the door swung open. Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of her, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "What happened?"

"I...I don't know," she lied, trying to look as flustered as possible. "It just sprayed everywhere." Water droplets clung to her lashes and trickled down her neck, her shirt clinging to her skin.

Without a word, he stepped in, his movements efficient as he turned off the faucet and began to mop up the mess. The tension in the room was palpable, and Karina felt her breath hitch as his arm brushed against hers. This was it—her chance to get closer, to show him she wasn't just a pretty face.

He handed her a towel, and she took it, her eyes never leaving his. The fabric of her shirt had grown translucent in the dampness, the lacy outline of her black bra visible beneath it. She knew he could see it, could see the curve of her breasts and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Summoning all her courage, Karina took a step closer, her hand shaking slightly as she reached out to him. Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was tentative at first, a soft brush of skin on skin, but as he didn't pull away, she grew bolder. She felt the towel drop from her hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Y/N's body stiffened for a moment, but then, to her surprise, he relaxed into the embrace. His hands found their way to her waist, holding her gently as he returned the kiss with an intensity that made her knees wobble. Karina's pulse raced as she felt his warmth envelop her, his scent overpowering the lingering smell of ink and coffee in the room. It was everything she had hoped for and more.

Breaking away, she whispered, "Just touch my breast, dear." Her voice was a breathy plea, her eyes searching his for any sign of rejection. For a moment, she thought he might push her away, that she had crossed a line she shouldn't have. But instead, his eyes searched hers, as if looking for an answer she hadn't given. Then, ever so slowly, his hand moved up, his thumb brushing the fabric of her shirt before sliding beneath to graze the sensitive skin of her collarbone.

"Ahh," Karina moaned as his hand finally reached its destination, cupping her breast gently. The feeling was exquisite, and she leaned into his touch, her breath hitching. His thumb traced lazy circles around her nipple, eliciting a whimper from her lips. The warmth of his hand seeped through her damp shirt, sending shivers down her spine.

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N reached behind her and deftly unclasped her bra. It fell away, revealing her full, round breasts to the cool air. He took a step back, his eyes drinking in the sight of her exposed flesh. The look of amazement on his face was all the validation Karina needed—she was more than just a pretty face.

"You should be proud of yourself, Y/N," she murmured, her voice filled with passion. "Everyone in this university wants my body, but they can't have it because I've fallen in love with you."

Y/N's gaze remained locked on her, his expression unreadable, but his actions spoke louder than words. His other hand found its way to her other breast, kneading it gently as he bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth. The sensation was heavenly, and Karina's back arched as a soft moan escaped her. She had dreamt of this moment, of feeling his warm breath against her skin, his lips wrapped around her sensitive flesh. His tongue danced around the peak, flicking and suckling, sending bolts of pleasure straight to her core.

Encouraged by his responsiveness, Karina grew bolder. She reached for the button of his pants, her trembling hand slipping it free and pushing the fabric down just enough to reveal his thick, hard erection. She couldn't believe what she was seeing—nine inches of pure masculine beauty, the girth of it making her mouth water. "Oh, my god," she murmured, her eyes going wide.

Y/N's eyes snapped to hers, a mix of surprise and arousal. He didn't protest as she guided him to sit on the edge of the tub, his back against the wall. "What are you doing?" he breathed, but she could see the desire in his eyes.

"I never knew you had such an...impressive size," Karina said, her voice a seductive purr. She knelt before him, her eyes never leaving his as she wrapped her hand around his shaft, feeling the heat and power of him. "It's like you're holding a piece of the universe."

Y/N's cheeks colored slightly at her words, and he couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at his lips. "I've never had anyone...measure me up quite like that," he said, his voice thick with desire.

Karina's hand looked almost comical around his length, her fingers not even coming close to touching her thumb. "Look, my hand can't even wrap around it," she said, her voice filled with awe. "You're just too big."

Y/N's smile grew wider, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I've been told I'm...gifted," he said, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of arrogance.

Karina couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing through the bathroom. "Gifted is an understatement," she said, her hand still stroking him. "But I'm going to need two hands for this."

With a sly smile, she leaned in closer, her ample breasts pressing against his thighs. "Do you like it when my boobs wrap around you?" she asked, her voice playful and full of mischief.

His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. "I...uh...yes," he finally managed to say, his voice strained.

With a knowing smile, Karina leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his thighs as she began to move her body up and down in a rhythmic motion, her nipples grazing his shaft with every pass. The feeling was exquisite, and she watched with rapt attention as his expression grew more intense. Her breasts moving faster and faster around his thick cock.

"Karina," he gasped, his eyes squeezed shut as she worked him with her body. "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum on my boobs," she whispered, her voice a siren's call. "I wanna feel it on me, I wanna feel you in me."

The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt him tense, his hands tightening on her shoulders as he let out a deep groan. Warm, sticky cum shot out, covering her breasts and chest in a hot, pulsing wave. She moaned in pleasure, feeling the warmth spread over her sensitive skin. It was a sensation she had never experienced before, and she reveled in the power she had over him in that moment.

Panting, Y/N opened his eyes, looking down at her. His gaze was a mix of shock and lust as he took in the sight of her cum-covered breasts. "I've never..." he trailed off, unable to find the words to express his thoughts.

"It's okay," she murmured, standing up and reaching for him. "We're just getting started."

Their clothes discarded in a pile on the floor, Karina led Y/N to the bedroom, her eyes never leaving his. The air was charged with desire as they tumbled onto the bed, their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and valley, worshipping her in a way she had never felt before.

He kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth as she straddled him, her wetness coating his stomach. His cock was still semi-hard, and she felt it nudge against her inner thigh, sending a thrill through her. She wanted more—needed more.

With a seductive smile, Karina slid off him and lay down on the bed, her legs spread wide. "Keep playing with me," she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper.

Y/N's eyes darkened as he complied, his fingers moving back to her swollen clit. He teased it mercilessly, circling and flicking, watching as she writhed and moaned beneath him. Her hips rose and fell, seeking the friction she craved, and he took the opportunity to glide his fingers down her body, tracing the path of her curves before returning to her core.

Her breath hitched as he pushed a finger inside her, feeling the warm, wet embrace of her pussy. It was tight and slick, and he could feel her muscles contract around him as he began to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He watched her face, memorizing every expression that played across her features—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the soft moans that escaped her lips, the way her cheeks flushed a deep pink.

He added another finger, curling them inside her as he continued to rub her clit with his thumb. Karina's moans grew louder, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. "I'm close," she panted, her eyes squeezed shut. "So close."

"Cum for me, Karina," he urged, his voice thick with need. "Let go."

And with that, she did. Her body arched off the bed, a high-pitched scream tearing from her throat as she came, her pussy clamping down on his fingers. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before—intense and overwhelming. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was on fire, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her.

As her orgasm subsided, Y/N didn't give her a moment to catch her breath. He kissed his way down her body, his mouth finding her sensitive clit once more. He began to suck and lick with renewed vigor, his tongue swirling around the swollen nub in a way that made her hips buck against his face.

"Oh, fuck," she gasped, her eyes flying open. "Oh, oh, oh!"

Y/N felt the warmth of her climax flood over his face, a salty sweetness that only added to his own arousal. Karina's body convulsed above him, her legs trembling and her toes curling as she squirted like a fountain, her juices spraying across his cheeks and chin. It was a sight he had only ever seen in porn, but here it was, happening in real life. He lapped at her, eager to taste every drop, his cock pulsing with need.

Her body finally went lax, her breathing ragged and her skin glistening with sweat. Y/N sat back, wiping his face with the back of his hand, a look of wonder on his own. "I've never seen that before," he said, his voice filled with awe.

Karina giggled, a lightness to her tone that hadn't been there before. "I've never done that before," she admitted, a shy smile playing on her lips. "But with you, it just feels...right."

He leaned in, kissing her deeply, tasting her on his tongue. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer to him. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

The words sent a thrill through her, and she felt a newfound confidence bloom inside her. This wasn't just a physical attraction anymore—it was something deeper, something she hadn't even realized she craved. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. But all she saw was desire—pure, unbridled lust that mirrored her own.

Without another word, Karina swung her leg over him, straddling his waist. His cock stood at attention, and she took it in her hand, feeling the weight of him, the heat and power of his arousal. She positioned herself over his tip, her heart racing as she lowered herself down. The first inch was tight, a slight burn that made her gasp, but she didn't stop. She wanted all of him—needed all of him.

Y/N watched with bated breath, his eyes never leaving hers as she took him in. His hands found her hips, guiding her, urging her to take more. She felt the head of his cock push against her tight entrance, and then with a sudden, desperate need, she slammed herself down onto him. The pain was there, but it was overshadowed by the pleasure—a white-hot spark that ignited within her.

"Ahh, you're so deep," Karina screamed, her voice echoing off the walls of the small room. His cock filled her completely, stretching her in a way that she had never felt before. She paused, panting, trying to adjust to the feeling of being so completely filled. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she began to rock her hips, sliding up and down his length.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in his head, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly. "You're so tight," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of not losing control. "So fucking tight."

Karina's nails dug into his chest as she took him deeper, her body moving in a rhythm that was both agonizing and exhilarating. Each time she slammed down onto his cock, she felt him hit a spot deep within her that no one else had ever reached. It was a feeling she had only dreamed of, a feeling that made her feel alive. "Ahh, so good," she moaned, her voice breathy and full of need.

Y/N watched her, his eyes dark with desire. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her muscles clenching as she grew closer to the edge. "Cum for me again, Karina," he ground out, his own release building.

Obeying his command, Karina raised her pace, her hips moving faster and faster as she chased the elusive orgasm. She could feel it building, the pressure growing until it was all she could focus on. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back.

Then it hit her—a wave of pleasure so intense that it stole her breath away. "Ahhhh," she screamed, her pussy spasming around Y/N's thick cock as she squirted against his belly. He watched in amazement as a gush of liquid spurted out, painting his stomach and chest with her essence. The sight was erotic, and he couldn't hold back anymore.

"Now it's my turn, Karina," Y/N growled, his eyes dark with need as he raised his hips to meet her thrusts. "Let's come together."

His words sent a jolt of excitement through her, and she eagerly leaned into his rhythm, her body moving in perfect sync with his. She could feel him swelling inside her, the heat of his climax building with every stroke. The room was a symphony of moans and skin slapping together, the sweet scent of sex hanging heavily in the air.

With a final, powerful thrust, Y/N buried himself to the hilt, and Karina felt his warmth flood her as he came with a roar "AHHHHHH". Her own orgasm crashed over her, a second wave of pleasure so intense it left her trembling. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream, as she felt herself squirt again. It was as if her body was claiming him, marking him as hers.

Collapsing onto his chest, Karina tried to catch her breath, her heart pounding like a drum in her ears. Y/N's chest heaved beneath her, his cock still hard and pulsing inside her. She felt the sticky warmth of their combined releases, the evidence of their passion smearing between them as she moved.

They lay there for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds in the room their heavy breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. The weight of his body was comforting, anchoring her to the world. The feel of his heart beating against her cheek was reassuring, a steady rhythm that matched her own racing heart.

Finally, Y/N pulled out with a groan, and Karina felt a sense of loss as his cock slipped from her. He rolled to the side, taking her with him, and they lay there, their limbs tangled together. She could feel his softening length against her thigh, the stickiness between her legs a constant reminder of what they had just shared.

The silence grew heavier, and Karina felt a twinge of nerves. What came next? Would this be a one-time thing, or had she finally broken through his icy exterior? She turned to look at him, his eyes closed, his face a picture of peace. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her with a softness she had never seen before. "For what?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"For making me feel...important," she said, the words spilling from her lips before she could stop them. "For noticing me for more than just my body."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're more than just a pretty face, Karina," he whispered, his breath sending shivers down her spine. "Much, much more."

The words were a balm to her soul, and she nestled closer to him, her heart swelling with happiness. The night had started as a simple homework session, but it had turned into so much more—a confession of feelings she had never dared to hope would be reciprocated.

But as the reality of what had just happened sank in, Karina felt a flicker of fear. This was uncharted territory for her—she had never been with someone who valued her mind as much as her body. Would she be able to keep his interest? Would she be enough for him?

Y/N must have felt her tension, because his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. "Don't worry," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "I've noticed you for a long time now. And I like what I see."

The words sent a shiver of pleasure through her, and she let herself relax into his embrace. For now, she was content to lay there, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking and the promise of what was to come.

But as the moments ticked by, Karina grew restless. She knew she couldn't just lie there forever—there was still so much to explore, so much more of him to experience. With a sultry smile, she rolled off of him, her body still sticky with their combined arousal. "Now get all on fours," Y/N said, his voice a command that sent a thrill through her.

Without a second thought, Karina did as he asked, her hands and knees sinking into the plush comforter. She felt his body shift behind her, the heat of him a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. "What kind of stamina do you have?" she asked playfully, peeking over her shoulder at him.

Y/N's eyes never left hers as he lined himself up with her wet, pink opening. "Let's find out," he replied, a smug smile playing on his lips. With one powerful thrust, he pushed into her, filling her completely. Karina gasped "ahhh", the sensation of his thick cock stretching her was almost too much to handle. It was a feeling she had never experienced before—like a mix of pleasure and pain that left her breathless.

He didn't give her any time to adjust. Instead, he began to pound into her, his hips moving with a fierce, almost brutal rhythm. His hand found her hair, and he gripped it tightly, pulling her head back as he slammed into her again and again. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body, making her toes curl and her nails dig into the bed. "AHHHH!" she screamed, the sound a mix of pleasure and surprise.

Karina felt herself stretching to accommodate him, her body adjusting to the relentless onslaught of his thick cock. It was a delicious pain, a feeling she had never experienced before. Each time he hit the deepest part of her, she felt an intense pressure that bordered on unbearable—but she never wanted him to stop. "Yes," she panted, her voice barely audible. "Harder, Y/N. Just like that."

Y/N complied, his movements becoming more forceful. He could feel her body tensing, her muscles clenching around him as she grew closer to climax. He watched her in the mirror, the sight of her bouncing breasts and arched back making him even more determined to push her over the edge. "I'm gonna squirt again," she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls.

He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered in her ear. "Do it, Karina. I want to feel you come all over my bed."

And with that, she did. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her body with a force that made her see stars. Her pussy spasmed around him, gripping his cock like a vice as she squirted uncontrollably. The bed beneath her grew wet, the fabric soaking up her juices as they spurted out in a torrent.

Y/N's hand didn't stop moving, his palm connecting with her ass cheek with a loud smack. She yelped, the pain mixing with pleasure, sending another bolt of sensation straight to her clit. It was a delicious cycle—each spank making her cum harder, each orgasm making her more sensitive to his touch.

"Yess..." she gasped, pushing back into him. "Spank my ass, baby."

He complied with a smack that was harder than the last, and Karina's eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth forming a perfect O of pleasure. "U like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a dark growl.

"Yes, I do," Karina moaned, her body begging for more. Each slap of his hand against her flesh sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, making her pussy clench around his cock.

"You're such a good girl," Y/N said, his voice thick with satisfaction as he continued to pound into her. "So responsive to pain."

The smacks grew more intense, each one sending a jolt of electricity through her body. Karina could feel the beginnings of another orgasm building, the pressure in her pussy growing tighter with every hit. "AHHHHH," she screamed, her voice raw and needy. "Y/N, I'm gonna cum again!"

He leaned down, his teeth grazing her ear. "Come for me, baby," he murmured. "Come all over my cock."

With a final, hard spank, Karina's body shattered into a million pieces, her orgasm consuming her completely. She screamed his name as she squirted once more, her pussy flooding him with her release. Y/N groaned, the feeling of her tightening around him too much to resist. He thrust into her one last time, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside her.

Their bodies went still, both of them panting and trembling with the aftershocks of their shared climax. Y/N leaned down, kissing her neck and shoulder before slowly withdrawing. Karina felt the emptiness acutely, a sudden coldness where he had been so warm and hard.

They lay there for a moment, their limbs entangled, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Then, with a soft groan, Y/N rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was nestled against his side.

Karina lay down beside him, her heart racing. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened. It was more than she had ever dreamed of—more than any of the fantasies she had concocted in her loneliest moments. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "For giving me an orgasm that no one else ever has."

Y/N's eyes searched hers, his expression unreadable. "It was nothing," he said, but the tenderness in his voice belied his words. He stroked her hair, his touch gentle and soothing. "You're welcome to come over for homework help anytime."

The room was quiet, the only sounds their breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Karina felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of belonging that was new and exhilarating. "I will," she said, her voice filled with promise. "As long as you don't mind me...distracting you like this."

A smirk played on his lips, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I don't mind," he said, his voice low and intimate. "In fact, I might just enjoy it."

With that, Y/N pulled her to her feet, scooping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. Karina giggled, her arms wrapping around his neck as he carried her back to the bathroom. The cold tiles against her back were a stark contrast to the warmth of their bodies, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of what was to come.

He set her down gently, his hands sliding down her body to grip her ass. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding. Karina complied eagerly, her hands braced against the cool porcelain of the sink. She felt his cock nudge against her wetness, and she pushed back, eager for more.

Y/N didn't disappoint. With one swift motion, he plunged into her from behind, his cock filling her completely. Karina gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt him stretch her open. He began to move, his hips slapping against her ass as he fucked her with a ferocity that left her trembling.

Each thrust was punctuated by a smack, his hand coming down hard on her ass cheek. The sound echoed through the bathroom, mingling with her cries of pleasure. "Oh, fuck," she moaned, her body writhing beneath his touch. "You're so rough."

"You love it," he grunted, his hand coming down again, this time harder. "You love it when I spank your pretty ass."

And she did. The sting of his hand only made her more aroused, her pussy clenching around him as she pushed back to meet each of his movements. The mirror in front of her was foggy with steam, their reflection distorted but unmistakable. She watched as he claimed her, his hand rising and falling in a rhythm that matched his strokes.

Her body felt alive, each touch a spark that ignited a fire deep within her. She could feel another orgasm building, the pressure in her core growing tighter and tighter with every smack. "Yes," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Keep going."

Y/N's hand never stopped moving, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. Karina's legs began to shake, her body on the edge of something she hadn't felt before. It was as if every nerve ending was alight, every inch of her skin sensitive to his touch.

And then it hit her—a climax so intense it felt like a supernova. Her pussy clamped down on him, her body convulsing as she screamed his name. He didn't stop, his hand never faltering, his cock plunging into her with a relentless pace. "Cum for me," he growled, his voice a dark command that sent shivers down her spine.

And cum she did, her pussy spasming around him as she squirted once again. Y/N watched in amazement, his own release building until he couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, brutal thrust, he came deep inside her, filling her with his warmth.

They stood there, panting and shaking, for a long moment. The only sound in the room was the dull thud of their hearts and the distant rush of the shower. "You're mine," Y/N murmured, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear.

Karina leaned back into him, her body still trembling. "Yes," she whispered, the word a declaration of ownership. "I'm yours."

Their bodies were slick with sweat, their breaths mingling as they held each other close. The world outside didn't matter anymore—all that existed was the two of them in that small, steamy room.

But eventually, the moment passed, and reality began to creep back in. "We should clean up," Karina murmured, her voice still shaky with the aftermath of pleasure.

Y/N nodded, his arms sliding from around her waist. He stepped back, giving her the space to stand up straight. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, his voice a mix of satisfaction and concern.

Karina felt a blush creep up her neck as she turned to face him. She had never been so exposed to anyone before, not even herself in the mirror. But with Y/N, she felt a strange sense of vulnerability that was thrilling rather than terrifying. She watched as he grabbed a towel, his own body still flushed with arousal.

He wrapped the towel around her waist, tucking it in gently. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the bathroom. The cold tile felt good against her hot skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room they had just left.

Y/N turned on the shower, the water spraying hot and steamy. He stepped in, pulling her in after him. The water cascaded down their bodies, washing away the sweat and cum that had painted them both. He took a washcloth, his movements deliberate and tender as he began to clean her. The sensation of the cloth moving over her skin, combined with the warm water, was almost too much for her to handle. "You're so gentle," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut.

He didn't respond, his focus solely on her. He washed her thoroughly, taking his time to pay special attention to her breasts and pussy. His touch was soft but firm, as if he was afraid to break her. Karina felt her body responding to him again, her arousal building once more.

But she knew they couldn't go on like this forever. "We should get out," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're going to turn into prunes."

He chuckled, his eyes meeting hers. "You're right," he said, turning off the water. He stepped out first, grabbing two towels from the rack and handing one to her. They dried each other off, the silence between them a comfortable one.

Once they were both dressed again, Y/N turned to her, his expression serious. "I need to tell you something," he said, his voice low.

Karina felt a sudden knot in her stomach. What was it? Had she done something wrong? "What is it?" she asked, her voice small.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "I didn't just do this because you're...beautiful," he began, his words tentative. "I did it because I care about you, Karina."

The confession was like a weight lifted from her shoulders. "I know," she said, her voice firm. "And I care about you, too."

He leaned in, his hand cupping her cheek. "I want us to be more than just...this," he whispered, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. "I want to get to know you—all of you."

Karina felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I'd like that," she murmured, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

The kiss was sweet, filled with all the unspoken promises of a future together. When they pulled away, she knew that this was just the beginning. "Let's go back to the living room," she suggested, taking his hand. "We have the whole night ahead of us."

Y/N nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "I've got an idea," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "How about we start with a movie?"

They settled onto the couch, their bodies still humming with the aftermath of their passionate encounters. Karina curled up against him, feeling more content than she had in a long time. The TV flickered to life, but neither of them really watched it. Instead, they talked—about their hopes, their fears, their deepest secrets.

And as the night grew darker outside, their bond grew stronger, weaving a web of trust and desire that neither of them wanted to break. For the first time in a long time, Karina felt truly seen—not just for her body, but for the person she was inside.

Y/N pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a fierce embrace as they lay down on the bed, their limbs intertwined. The scent of their lovemaking still lingered in the air, a potent reminder of the passion that had just transpired between them. Karina's heart fluttered in her chest, the feeling of his naked skin against hers both familiar and new.

The sun had just begun to peek through the blinds, casting a soft glow across their entwined bodies. The light danced across Y/N's features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the softness in his eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, a gentle pressure that spoke of affection rather than lust. Karina felt her heart melt a little more with each brush of his lips.

"We should get ready," Y/N murmured, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "We don't want to be late for class."

Karina groaned, burying her face in his chest. "Just five more minutes," she begged, her voice muffled. But she knew he was right—they had to face the world outside of this cocoon of intimacy.

With a sigh, they both sat up, the cold air of the room hitting them like a slap in the face. Karina watched as Y/N stood, his cock still semi-hard and glistening with their combined juices. The sight made her stomach flutter, and she couldn't help but admire the way his muscles rippled as he reached for his boxers.

They dressed quickly, the act of putting on their clothes almost mundane in comparison to the intensity of the night before. But even as they stepped into the crisp morning air, Karina felt a newfound lightness in her step.

They walked together to the university, her hand in his, their bodies close enough to feel the heat of each other. As they passed other students, she noticed the glances thrown their way—a mix of surprise and envy. Y/N had always been the quiet, brooding genius, and she had always been the flirty, popular one. But now, they were something more—something she hadn't even known she wanted.

Men's eyes followed them, lingering on Karina's curves and the way she leaned into Y/N. They whispered among themselves, their voices filled with disbelief. "How did he get her?" she heard one of them murmur, the words sending a thrill through her.

Y/N seemed oblivious to the attention, his focus solely on her. He held the door open as they entered the lecture hall, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. Karina couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, a swell of happiness that he was hers—at least for now.

As they took their seats, she couldn't stop herself from laying her head on his shoulder, her hand wrapping around his arm. He tensed for a moment, then relaxed, his hand coming up to squeeze hers. It was a silent declaration, a promise that no matter what the day brought, they had each other.

The professor droned on about calculus, but Karina's mind was elsewhere. She was lost in the sensation of Y/N's warmth beside her, the feel of his muscles shifting as he took notes, the way his eyes would occasionally flicker over to hers. It was as if their night of passion had forged an unbreakable bond between them, a connection that went beyond the physical.

But she knew it wasn't all rainbows and butterflies. They had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and she couldn't help but wonder how it would affect their dynamic outside of his apartment. Would he still be cold and aloof in class, or would he treat her differently? And what about the other students—would they whisper and gossip?

Karina pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the steady beat of Y/N's heart beneath her ear. For now, she was content to bask in the warmth of his presence, to revel in the knowledge that she had managed to crack open the shell of the enigmatic student she had been pining for so long.

The rest of the world could wait—for now, all that mattered was the here and now, and the promise of what was to come.

---

Winter's words played on a loop in Karina's mind as she sat in class, unable to focus on the lecture. "I think you got what you wanted, Karina," Winter had said, her voice filled with a knowing smile. "Tell me your stories." Winter's curiosity was palpable, and Karina felt a blush creeping up her neck as she thought of the tales she could now share.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, the way Y/N had looked at her with such intensity, his eyes dark with passion. It had been more than just a physical connection—it had been a meeting of minds, a melding of souls that had left her feeling both exhausted and invincible.

Karina leaned back in her chair, her eyes glazing over as she remembered the feel of Y/N's cock sliding into her, the way he had filled her so completely. It had been more than just sex—it had been a declaration of intent, a claiming that she had never experienced before.

But Winter was waiting, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Karina knew she had to tread carefully, to choose her words wisely. After all, this was new territory for her—how did you explain to your best friend that you had not only slept with the guy you've been crushing on for months but had also managed to break through his stoic exterior?

---

"So, what happened?" Winter asked eagerly as they met up for lunch, her eyes wide with anticipation. Karina took a deep breath, her heart racing as she recounted the events of the previous night. Winter's jaw dropped, her eyes never leaving hers as she listened to the details of their steamy encounter.

"You've got to be kidding me," Winter whispered when Karina finished, her voice filled with awe. "You actually did it. You got him to crack."

Karina couldn't help the smug smile that played on her lips. "It wasn't easy," she admitted, "but I think I've figured out the trick."

"Well, spill it," Winter said, leaning in. "I want to know everything."

Karina took a sip of her soda, her mind racing with the memories of Y/N's gentle touch, his fierce passion, and the way he had made her feel. "You just have to be...persistent," she said finally. "And vulnerable. He's not like other guys—you can't just throw yourself at him and expect him to catch you."

Winter nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "So, you had to show him that you're more than just a pretty face," she mused. "That you actually care about him, not just his body."

Karina nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Exactly. And once he saw that, he couldn't resist."

The cafeteria buzzed with the chatter of students, but the two of them sat in their own little bubble, lost in their conversation. Winter's eyes were filled with admiration, and Karina felt a sense of pride that she had managed to do what no one else had.

#kpop smut #male reader #girl group smut #aespa smut #gg smut #karina smut

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annavkouts · 4 months ago

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Process photos for making a mold of a baby doll head.

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communistkenobi · 6 months ago

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re: last rb, I think the takeaway is not “wow this person is so wrong, Harry Du Bois isn’t a generic white man he’s actually interesting so he’s not an example of a generic white guy character” but that perhaps the writers of the game were making an intentional decision about him being a middle aged white police officer when they wrote the story. like the limitation of dismissing his character as “just another white guy protag” is because it treats ‘representation’ as essentially a doll dress-up game where identity is just a series of discrete inert properties that you plaster onto an already-complete narrative for the purposes of census demographic reflection - that the idea that Harry is a white police officer only because white creators view themselves as default protagonists of all stories and his character is a simple mindless output of that - and not an active component of narrative decision-making. especially disco elysium of all games lol. there’s a fascist named measurehead in it, it’s not exactly subtle about its desire to engage with white supremacy, and I think the game is making a statement about that by forcing you to play as a white cop. and like you can object to those narrative choices and/or the quality of their execution, but Harry could be as ‘generic’ as possible and I don’t think that would make that “just another white guy” critique any more substantive

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grugruel · 11 months ago

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Your daddy know 'bout this?

(Don't be fooled, there's no daddy kink!)

Pairings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A few days short of your 21st birthday, you decide to celebrate with your friend at the local bar. Unbeknownst to you, a close friend of your dad's is there.

When he sees you with beer in hand and in the lap of another man, things get heated. Somehow, you end up in his shirt, at his house.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: pinv sex, passionate sex, forbidden realationship, violence, blood, underaged drinking, slight angst, cum eating, I love yous', mentions of masturation, tension, arguments, slight jealousy and protectiveness, pet names (girl, woman, ma'am, princess, sweetheart)

AN: not yet proofread, might be rough around the edges! Enjoy girlies🥹🫶

It was his one free night in a long time, and his buds pulled him along for a drink. He had no real objections, for he was in a good mood and it'd get even better once he had a drink in him.

The group of men emerged from the damp, rainy night and dove into the smoke tainted air and usual bustle of the local dive. They ordered their drinks and made their way to the back where the booths were, a jumble of familiar faces greeting them on their way. Until-

Bucky saw a face he ought not to see in a place like this. "Excuse me a moment, fellas. I got somethin' to take care of."

Their group turned to him, confused. "Wha-" and looked in the direction he was already headed. "Well shit, good thing her daddy ain't come with us." The group shared a few nervous glances, then shrugged and chuckled. "Wouldn't want to be one of those boys right now."

"Well . . . " a voice chuckled loudly.

She could see the source approaching their table from her peripheral, his form vaguely illuminated by soft lamp light through the gloom. " . . . Aint this a sight?"

She knew that voice, she could hear the telltale grin that shaped it.

Catching onto the change in energy, the giggles and boisterous laughter of their small group died down. Tense glances exchanged between them, all eventually landing on the intruder, all except her own.

Commotion continued sounding around them, their table the only to emit an unusually low amount of noise. "Anyone wanna tell me whats goin' on here?" The voice asked.

Swallowing, she realised she'd been intently staring into a cadleflame. She belived that maybe she'd have a chance at going unnoticed if she sat still enough.

"I asked you a question, doll."

She winced. That was his nickname for her. Fuck. She tore her gaze from the candle, snapping it to her friend across the table and gave her a sidelong glance that meant 'trouble' to which her friend nodded in agreement.

The low light that made the place cosy just moments before now only existed to muddle her thoughts. But, it could work in her favour. She carefully pushed her drink behind her elbow, hoping it wasn't too late to hide, and her friend followed her lead.

She turned toward the man, a cheap grin plaster on her face. "Hey . . . Buck," she spoke slowly, as if it'd somehow make him more agreeable.

"Hey there, princess," he grinned. Hat on his head. "Wanna explain this to me?" Pointing lazily to their gathering.

She shrugged, attempting to act nonchalant. Because admitting your wrong would confirm it's wrong. "Nothin special, we were just leavin', in fact."

A scoff blew past her ear. "The hell we are." The lap she sat on stiffened beneath her, tapping his feet–once, twice–in a show of impatience, and rocking her body in the process. The man then whispered in her ear. "Who is this guy anyway?"

She inclined her head, nervous eyes avoiding the big cowboy that stood imposing at the end of their table, and murmured a quiet reply over her shoulder. "No one. . . in particular." A lie, of course. "Let's just go."

The cowboy chuckled. "You're not leavin' with him, you're leavin' with me." That drawl could make the most steeled stumaches jittery with butterflies. Her friend must've felt it too by they way she squirmed in her seat.

She had to screw her eyes shut in a moment of contemplation. Why'd he have to be here tonight? Why'd they have to go to a bar he frequented?

She looked back at her friend with panic in her eyes. Boy, were they in for it. She could think of nothing else then to simply ask nicely, hoping it'd appeal. "Please, just go."

He smirked, putting a hand on his hips and showing a stern but playful disposition. "Your daddy know 'bout this?" He tipped his hat in their direction.

She pinned him with her eyes, narrowing them with independent annoyance. "Im my own woman, B-"

'What's it to you?' The guy beneath cut her off.

Bucky switched his attention to the guy, and she could feel him shrink a little under Bucky's gaze. "Hell, no need for that tone! I was just sittin' with my buds over there." He pointed to the group of men Buck came with, no doubt to put some pressure on the poor guy. From the looks of it, they'd been listening in on our conversation, and now waved to her, idly laughing at the situation, ready to jump in at any moment.

She shyly waved back, a tight smile on her lips.

"See, I just saw your little group havin' a grand ol' time over here and wanted to join you," Bucky laughed. "And when I noticed that fine woman in your lap, I thought I'd have a chat with her." He disguised it well, but she could hear the anger beneath his humoured exterior.

"You two know each other?" The guy asked, I'll at ease.

"Well enough." Bucky took a moment to look her over, a scan for any harm. But his eyes stuck on the short skirt and thin shirt. If possible, he looked even more bothered. "Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" He glanced at her, and she could see the danger that lurked in his eyes. It began to dawn on her more and more how knee deep in trouble she was.

She cleared her throat, a nervous blush creeping up her cheeks. "Mhm," she hummed. It felt like he could see through her.

The guy's hand slunk to the bare skin of her thigh, attempting to mark his territory when seamingly he'd decided his dislike of the situation. "Huh, what's with the hat anyway, you some kind of sheriff?" He asked. But cut Bucky off as he was about to answer. "Either way," he waved his hand dismissively. "She's fine where she is. She can make her own decisions." And just like that, he'd successfully stolen the point she'd been trying to make.

She shook her head. Stupid, stupid boy.

Bucky's face hardened, any sign of humour gone from him. "I assure you, I dont need a sheriff's badge to take her home, It's within my right." He braced his hand against the table, leaning closer to them.

Her uterus roiled at that. 'take her home'

"Now, get that hand off of her, boy." He snarled, annoyance and authority resounding in his voice, promising a solution to the mans cocky demeanor. "She ain't yours to touch."

"Why?" The guy asked. "She yours?" His hand slid higher, squeezing her thigh, challenging the much broader man.

She exhaled, releasing a frustrated hum in early defeat, he'd doomed them both.

The cowboys jaw tensed. Silently, but undoubtedly steaming, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them above his elbows. The veins on his forearms pop from strain, knuckles turning white from his fists clenching. "Fella. . ." He began, calming his composure, then pointed two loose fingers at the girl in the mans lap. "Had she been mine, you'd be on the floor already. Now, that girl, ain't of drinkin' age, neither is she to be touched by a slimy bastard like yourself."

Fuck, so he did see the drink. She shook her head again, warning him. "Bucky. . ." A very bad attempt at dissuading him from doing whatever he was about to do. She could almosy feel the guy beneath her sink into the booth they were sitting in. Perhaps he had some sense after all.

Her friend grabbed her arm, loosely yanking on it as her anxious eyes flickered between the men in conflict. She herself sitting in the lap of the guy's friend, who was preparing to step in if necessary. "We should go before this gets ugly," her friend whispered.

"Respectfully, ma'am, she ain't going nowhere without me." The cowboy opposed, directing his attention to her friend.

No, no, no no. . . Dread filled her, he'd drive her straight home to her parents.

Bucky's eyes fell back on the guy, now shrunken and small under his gaze. "So. . . Stand up, 'n leave, boy," he spoke with the authority of a sheriff but stood with the confidence of an outlaw. "There's no need for altercations, I was enjoyin' my night. N' I don't wish that to change-"

"I'll call on the bouncer," the guy shot out, his face probably as pale as his overly white and fragile shirt, pointing to a man behind the cowboy. Her eyes followed the steps down from the seating area, and through the dimly lit dive where a big man stood posted by the door. The guy beneath her then glanced at his friend across from them, both extending curt nods to one another.

She wanted to wretch, he was acting a coward and standing up to Bucky with the threat of enlisting two other men to his side. She sighed loudly, making a point for him to hear as she eyed her friend. "Well, I sure know how to pick em'." And her friend, inspite of the commotion they found themselves in, covered her mouth in snicker.

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a second of silent fury, then answered with a laugh, not missing a beat. "You mean that bouncer?" He asked and turned around, calling a greeting to the bouncer, who in turn tipped his hat with a smile. The type of gesture that indicated a longstanding friendship. "We're well aquainted," Bucky grinned. "But im sure he'd love to sort this situation out."

If they had any sense at all, the two men would leave with what little dignity they had left and realise that they were already outnumbered inspite of being 2 to 2.

"Leave, girls," the guy easily dismissed them.

She gave him a pointed look, flashed her eyebrows, and jerked her head to the side in a 'you had it coming' motion, and then grabbed her friend's hand.

"Asshole," she sighed and steered them out of the booth, taking the cider in her other hand. Silly as she was, she thought she could simply leave, perhaps just slip by Bucky. But no, his strong hand grabbed her bicep as she passed by, and set his blues deep into her own. "Wait by the truck, I'll drive ya' home." He said, looking between the two girls.

"Fine . . . " She sighed.

"N' dont even think of running, cause I'll catch ya'," he warned, and she rolled her eyes inspite of the burning that settled in her core.

She tried to yank herself free, but he didn't let go. "What? You wanna hear a 'yes sir'?" She dared the words, teasing, as nervousity built in her gut.

His eyes searched hers, a slow grin spreading over his lips as he leaned closer, bending down to whisper in hear ear. "Dont get cocky with me, girl." And his hand began sliding downward, making her shiver, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

She swallowed, that tone, the hat? God. Her uterus purred, and in a sudden surge on confidence, she answered. "No, sir."

He grabbed the glass bottle from her hand and grinned, taking a sip. "Good, girl. Now go." And pointed to the door.

Would it be wrong to say she started salivating? His words, together with his lips making contact with the same surface she had? There was something about it, something that made her . . . Pulse.

Bucky whistled and his friend–the bouncer–came bounding up the steps, him along with the group of dad's and bucky's friends only a few steps behind.

The bouncer tipped his hat to her and her friend in passing, a smirk on his lips. Nice to know there was still some gentlemen in the world.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was quite handsome too.

"Dont even think 'bout it," Bucky warned.

She rolled her eyes, and then they were finally on their way out, meeting Bucky's group of friends on the way, all nodding and greeting her. "Tell your daddy we missed him tonight." One said, and they all chuckled.

The girls hurried off, giggling. But anxiety lingered in the depths of her chest. Those men were rogue witnesses in all of this.

As she held the door open, voices raised behind them. She could see the crowd turning to look in Buckys direction, anf she herself followed their gazes. And found them just in time to see Bucky's knuckles collide with the jaw of the guy she'd spent her night on, sending him sprawling.

Plunging into the deep night, the cold swept over them. "He's hot, ain't he?"

She didn't want to answer, or simply didn't want to admit it and just gave her friend a look of understanding.

"God, I was ready to pounce on him the second he called me ma'am."

The girl understood that too.

After about ten minutes wait, Bucky emerged from the bar. Unscathed, apart form bloody knuckles and dark cloud around his head. Before even saying a thing, he'd already removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I only got one of them. Apologies, ma'am," he told her friend and opened the truck door for them both. "The truck'll warm you up."

"Thats ok, thank you," her friend answered, and the girls shared a knowing look. Their thoughts connecting in fiendish collectivity.

"Alright, get in. We'd better get goin'."

The ride was relatively quiet. We knew better than to anger him further. Anxiety was growing within her, though, she didnt wanna know what would happen when her friend was let off.

"Text me ok? I'll se ya' later." Her friend said, eyeing Bucky. She leaned her head through the open window of the truck. "But- let me know how that goes," she whispered. "And good luck." She raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips.

The girl rolled her yes. "Sure will." And with one last wave, they were off.

When there were only the two of them, they could say whatever they wanted with confidence. But so far, there'd only been a few sighs and breaths of shared irritation. Neither of them were particularly pleased with the situation.

But she wanted to be the first to speak. "I'll be 21 in a few days, Buck."

"Doesn't mean you have good judgement."

She bristled. "I'm not a little girl anymore!"

" 'Course not, I can tell by the way you dress. That what a grown woman look like to you?" He nodded to her body, barely covered apart from his thick jacket over her torso.

She pulled it closer around herself. "Like what exactly? What do I look like to you? A slut, a hooker?" Her face stung from embaressment. She felt like a child again, being berated for something she wasn't able to puzzle together by herself.

He clicked his tongue, jerking his head to the side. His patience was running thin. "Dont twist my words, doll. I'm callin you careless."

"That dont matter comin' from you, you're not my daddy." She knew the comment would get a rise out of him, because she knew he'd ment no ill intent, and she knew he cared for her. But she was mad, and so was he.

"No, n' you should thank fucking god he wasn't there to bust you. I was the better option, I can promise you that."

She exhaled a frustrated breath, turning her attention toward the windshield. Watching droplets of water paving their way over the condensation covered glass. "You weren't the only one to bust me, though, were you?" She spoke lowly, feeling like a coward for even asking. "The boys gonna say something?"

He gripped the steering wheel harder, his roughed up knuckles tearing. "I told em' I'd take care of it." It must've stung, but he took no notice. Other things pestered his mind.

Worry mixed in with all other emotions as her gaze drifted to his hands, and her mind immidetly moved into recovery mode. "So what's that mean, you gonna tattle on me now?"

He looked over at her, brows furrowed right beneath the rim of his hat. He couldnt begin to understand her. "That all you care about?"

"Right now? Well, yeah. I dont want a scolding."

"All grown and still daddy's little girl, worried about his opinions."

"And if I say yes, what then, girl?

"I dunno, m' gonna have to convince you not to."

"Like you convinced that guy to buy you beer, huh? What'd you do, flirt with him? Give him a handjob, suck him off? What did I miss before catching you?"

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You fucking asshole!" She shook from anger, she never expected words like that to be thrown at her. Especially not by him. But she'd get him back, there was no reason behind her actions now. "Maybe I would've, I even bet it would've worked if I'd asked you. Right? You would've just loved having your friends pretty daughter gettin' you off, huh!" She half shouted the last sentence, her chest heaving with effort and fury.

"That's enough." His tone was unforgiving, shooting a sense of reality back into her.

"I'll shut up if you answer the god damned question Buck, would it have worked?"

But Bucky didn't answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched, biting back his words. If she thought the silence had been bad before? It was deafening now.

After calming down again, her words hit her like a freight train. She always had a friend in Buck, but now she wasn't sure. The words that'd been thrown back and forth had set them off balance, their entire relationship was on unsteady ground. Something had been rewritten in the rules between them.

There'd always been attraction, but that wasn't something they ever spoke of. They'd always been close, good friends even. But now, something had changed. And it made her feel sick. She'd had an ally in him, but now, she wasn't so certain.

After a long whole of shutting her mouth out of stubbornness, the fate of her father finding out was worse, so she broke. "Please don't bring me home, Buck. Dad'll throw a fit." She tried to smile, to soften her voice. But it felt wrong.

After a moments uncertainty on her part, and strained breathing on his, he spoke. "Im not makin' the detour, you can sleep at mine, that was always the plan anyway." He admitted, sounding utterly tired.

And now she felt extremely guilty, eyes studying him as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Her gaze drifted over his body, his face, his hands. Stopping on the roughed up and bloody knuckles. He'd beaten that guy for her. Out of jealousy, or simply because he was protective?

She turned away, her chest feeling hollow and followed the birches and sprucetress as they flashed by the truck. Their colors and textures blending together as they met the dark consistent sky above them.

Bucky's house was dark, he only lit a few tablelamps when they arrived. It was better that way, she recognized herself here, within the gloom and the safety of his home. It was second to her own.

"I'll get your something more comfortable," he said, his eyes avoiding her clothes, her body as a whole and disappeared into his bedroom.

Was it because he thought they didn't fit her, or the opposite? Had he been mad at himself for being attracted to her?

She nodded slowly, calling out to him, "we should do something about that hand of yours."

"It's fine, I'm fine." He said, re-emerging, meeting her eyes. "Here," he handed here a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most likely too big for her. "I'll take the couch, n' you can take my bed."

She nodded again, and headed into the bathroom.

Buckys t-shirt was longer on her than the skirt she'd worn, so she opted out of the shorts. Luckily findig a roll of gauze in the bathroom cabinet.

She emerged from the bathroom, a pair of panties and the oversized t-shirt the only things on her body. "You want something to-" Bucky paused as she rounded the corner, and suddenly she herself stopped short–caught off guard.

Bucky stared at her, and whatever he'd been about to say was lost the second he looked up. Bucky cleared his throat, and with the weight of a 15 year long friendship on his shoulders, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Inwardly, she smiled and hoped the lowly lit livingroom couldn't reveal the blush on her cheeks. "Found some gauze," she held the roll up, indirectly asking for permission to bandage him.

He opened his mouth to decline, she could even see his head begin to shake in dismissal.

But she cut in before he had the chance. "Just let me help, you can be mad and still let me help."

His eyes hardened, but hesitantly, he nodded all the same. "Im fine, doll."

She raised her brows with skepticism and made her way toward him, the fabric of buckys shirt doing its best at showcasing her breats.

Bucky clenched his fist in an attempt to control himself, he winced, the wounds on his knuckles re-opening.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Sure seems fine to me." And placed herself infront of him. From his position on the couch, he had to look up at her. At that, a flicker of heat blazed in her core. Oh, those eyes. His big, pleading eyes, all sad and hurt. Did he want her gone or want her in some other way?

She kneeled, settling between his thighs and grabbed his hand. "You don't got to be so stubborn all the time. . . Just wanna help you." She wrapped his hand carefully, enjoying every second of his corse skin over hers. Once done, he tried flexing his hand, and winced again. He still hurt, that much was clear, but was too proud to admit it. "Want me to kiss it better?" She joked, hoping it would lighten the mood. But he did that thing again, where he said nothing, and instead clenched his jaw, as if holding back a yes. So she took her chance.

Keeping their eyes locked, she brought his wrapped knuckles to her lips, and kissed them through the bandage once, then moving further up to kiss the softer skin of the back of his hand. Again, his eyes were pleading, and he moved the hand to cup her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She took it as encouragement and kissed his palm, his wrist, his forearm. She stood up on her knees, kissing his bicep and reached for his shirt to pull him closer. She cupped his face and brought him inches from her own, nuzzling her nose against his.

Finally, when her lips reached for his, he pulled away. "Stop, stop," he nudged his forehead against hers. "We can't," he moved his lips away, cheek to cheek, he kissed the soft spot in front of her ear. "We can't."

"Cant, or wont?" She asked dully.

Those pleading eyes were back, begging her not to make him answer that question. She nodded absentmindedly, pulled into her thoughts. She stood up and moved away from him, his hand sliding down her arm and locking around her wrist, stopping her. "Dont leave."

"I'm comin' back."

After a few minutes of bustling in the kitchen, she returned to him. Sidling up next to him on the couch, her curled up legs lulling into his lap as she handed him a whiskey glass, then cradled her own. He whispered a thank you, looking into her eyes, and she whispered a you're welcome, looking into his. Then they sat like that for a while, quiet, unmoving. Bucky's hands finding their home on her legs, glas in one hand and her knee in the other. Somehow, this wasn't crossing a line for them, this was their normal, this was something not even her family questioned, this was them.

"Im sorry, doll." he said finally. "I never meant to imply-"

"It's ok, Buck." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Really, It's fine. I'd rather not dwell on it."

Another moments silence passed between them, it was uncomfortable, but the unsaid lingered in the air like a thick wall between them, and hung over them with the threat of smothering. "We need to talk about us."

"I didn't like the way he was touchin' you," he said, choosing the topic before she had a chance at it. If he had to approach them, he would do it indirectly. "It didn't look like you were enjoyin' it."

Her eyebrows raised, "You would've punched him even if I were enjoying it." She commented sourley.

He squeezed her knee, gently rubbing circles into the skin beside. "He acted like he owned you," He turned his unscathed hand upside down, brushing his knuckles up and down her sensitive skin.

It all went straight to her head, veins throbbed with heat she didn't know she could feel. All brought out by a single touch of his hand.

But she wouldn't let off. "And what do you 'spouse beating him for it is?"

He stayed silent, his hand turned again, this time to grab her soft flesh, squeezing it with purpose. Much like the guy had done, but this felt different. This felt good, real good.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to focus on the words she needed to say. "What made you think you had the right? If not that I already belonged to–" she stopped, and their eyes met in a quick glance.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was only protectin' you." He defended, but it didn't quite sound like he believed the words himself. Nor did she. But if he wasn't ready to see it as it was, she wouldn't pressure him.

Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be this hard."

He shook his head, the words seemingly struck a cord within him. For he sat insilence, pondering, a long while. "I would've said no, you know. And it would've killed me." She looked at him strangely, forgetting what he was referring to for a moment. "I would've said yes, if you hadn't felt forced to it, like it was a last resort to keep your secret."

Oh. . . "Had I wanted it, you'd said yes?" She stared unbelieving into the dark space infront of them.

"Nothin' could stand in my way." He slid his hand further up her thigh, fingers exploring the skin just beneath the hem of his/her shirt.

She sat up straight to look at him properly, she couldn't tell if he was serious. "You want me?"

"More than anything," his voice was breathless, barely a whisper. His index and long finger reaching further up, exploring more than he'd ever dared. "Cant even explain how many times I imagined you gettin' me off after you said it. How much I hated the thought, the sight of you with that guy, his hands all on you."

A pang of need shot through her. She put her whiskey down, and braced her hands against his chest. "But why tell me now, whats changed? Whats changed in this last hour?" His fingers rubbed the skin of her hips beneath her panties, sending shivers running over her body, shivers she'd only previously dreamed he'd be the cause of.

"You're right, it shouldn't be this hard. I'm makin' it too hard." His hand slid to her waist, still invisible to him, but no longer untouchable. Magnetically, they were pulled together, faces inching closer and closer to oneanother.

"And what about daddy?" It was becoming hard to focus, she wouldn't stop him for the world. Bow, they were close enough to feel the dampness of their breaths.

His hand continued exploring farthur up, fingertips finally reaching the soft, plush flesh below her breast. "Your daddy ain't here, is he?"

She began shaking her head in disbelief, lips brushing against eachother. "Dont promise something if you can't follow through."

His hand stopped, "I can, please," he begged, waiting for her go-ahead. "I can. . ."

His words vibrated against her skin, electrifying her body. "Fuck," she moaned, he's right there. Right, there, infront of her, for her. "Then do, please do, Buck."

And just like that, both hands were beneath her shirt, pulling her into his lips and squeezing her breasts.

Breathless moans filled the silent air, they tore at eachother greedily. Pulling and pushing eachothers bodies, fighting to get Bucky free of his clothes.

Snaking one arm behind her back, he guided her down onto cushions and placed himself above her. Still clothed by jeans, he rolled his hips against her core, grinding the rough fabric against her barely clothed clit. This, is what she had been craving. The exact static friction, the heat and movement between their bodies producing all the pleasure she needed. She moaned heavily, beacause still, she wanted more. Pulling her legs up and her panties off, she wordlessly signaled for him to do the rest.

With a groan, Bucky dove into her neck, kissing and sucking, all the while he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off together with his boxers. No time was wasted, he lined his member up with her core within a second, prodding and teasing at the opening. "Please, please, please." She sounded desperate, but fuck, she was. And feeling it was worse then sounding it.

"Yes ma'am." He said, and thrusted into her. A gasp escaped them in unisome. With the arm still around her waist, he pulled her into his hips, his body straining as he delved deeper inside her than she thought possible.

"Yes. . ." She whined. "More."

He kissed his way up her throat, their hips freed and collided into eachother with steady, strong thrusts, pushing her deeper into the cushions with every rut. Nothing could compare, he was unparalleled. Bucky, despite what he was already achieving, kissed his way up her neck, unfaltering in his duty.

Her hands found his face, cupping it and bringing him back to her, and their lips met again. "Taste so sweet," he murmured, sinking his tongue into her. The salt of her skin mixing with her saliva. "Want all of you."

She smiled against him. "Harder."

He did as ordered, keeping his pace and adding pressure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Being so good for me, girl." And pulled her deeper onto his member. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow, fingers clawing at his back as she had nowhere to go, all pleasure directed straight into her. "Close, so fucking close," she cried.

"Good," he chuckled breathely against her skin, and that was a she needed. Her back arched in euphoria, and stars stung her eyelids, speckling the darkness. "Good job, sweetheart. Just breathe," he continued thrusting into her, softly, easing her through the orgasm. "Good girl. Well done. . ." He whispered, kissing her jaw. The stars began fading and she regained her senses, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Beautiful, girl." He moaned, still rutting into her, chasing his own high while wiping the tears from her face. Her body began tingling, on the vege of breaking down.

"Dont know how much more I can take, Buck." She kissed his cheek, focusing on the skill of his lips.

"Almost there, almost. . ." he moaned, increasing his pace. The slickness of her core created a sickening sound together with the slapping of their skin. It was heavenly, but she could feel the pressure building within her again.

"Mmmh, m' gonna cum again, please buck, dont stop."

He didn't, he continued, intent on coming together with her. He bit into her lip, causing her to yelp and yield the hold on his face and licked a trail down her chest and breast, then taking it into his mouth. Sucking and slurping in an insane rythm with the slapping. "Yes, yes! Fuck, Bucky." she called out, and Bucky pulled out of her.

Coming only a second after, his seed spilling over her abdomen. "I love you, I love you." He moaned with faltering breaths, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her, kissing every part of skin that he could reach.

Holy shit? "I love you too." She smiled lazily, drunk off of her two consequent orgasms. Laying her hand on her stumache, she felt his sticky substance coat her fingers.

His eyebrows knit together in guilt. "Sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I'll get a towel-"

She grabbed his bicep and shook her head, locking her eyes onto his as she brought the fingers to her lips and licked them off, popping them in her mouth to suck them clean.

Bucky stared, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue, cowboy?" She asked, a coy smile on her glistenting lips.

"Fuck," he awed breathlessly. "I just love you." He whispered, lowering himself onto her once again, this time striking his tongue into her core.

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