#Spread the Sin (Open for Mutuals)

[the-sinner-nebula]

She's currently jacking and jilling herself off at the same time. Damn it- seeing some cute girls walk by with way too short of skirts got her all riled up... thank goodness no other cute girls are watching-

[tonycries]

A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

Synopsis. Smile for the camera - as best you can when you’re being absolutely wrecked in all sorts of ways underneath them anyway!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exhibitionism (Toji’s), mutual másturbation, phone séx, créampie, oral (female + male receiving), vibrators, bóudoir, manhandling, marking, Gojo is a menace, fíngering, dp, face-sitting, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 3.8k

A/N. Was gonna add Sukuna but I feel like he’d hate modern technology.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The internet sensation

“Whaddaya say, you horny fuckers? Think she deserves to cum?”

Now, Toji Fushiguro is always one for extra cash. Who wasn’t, really? So when you approached him with a devious idea, well, how could he ever say no to his pretty girl?

He just didn’t think he’d be here - your bare legs splayed out on his lap, dripping cunt spread so shamefully, buzzing vibrator deafening over your pretty moans - all in front of that blinking camera. And the hundreds of thousands behind it.

“T-Toji, wan’ cum. Wanna cum so bad, please.” you mewl. Big, fat tears dripping down your cheeks at the way he’s been teasing you for so long now. You can barely make out the rush of comments flashing across the screen.

The camera captures everything so sinfully well. The way your cunt is completely soaked, clenching desperately around nothing as Toji slides the vibrator along your swollen folds. Circling your needy hole, just grazing your swollen clit. Teasing them just as much as you. 

Pathetic fuckers, he thinks, but entertains their desperate comments anyway.

“Hmm, they’re saying I should let you cum, pretty.” he whispers in your ear, low and hoarse with need. “Saying I should be ‘nice.’” 

He brings the vibrator - now glistening with your slick - to his lips. Licking a long, languid stripe up it, collecting your sweet juices on his tongue. Turning it ever-so-slightly towards the camera to show off what the fuckers behind it will never get, he hums dangerously, “What do you think, my girl?”

You gasp out a sob, uselessly trying to buck your hips toward where you needed him the most. “Please, Toji. Wanna cum, I’ll do anything.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles, spreading your legs open even further with a feral groan. 

In one, fluid motion, he buries the vibrator deep in your dripping cunt, relishing the surprised yelp that leaves your swollen lips. “Then show ‘em how much you like it, pretty. How much you love me not being ‘nice.’”

And that’s all that is said before he’s fucking you into you at an urgent, sinful pace. Pulling out all the way till the buzzing tip just circles your swollen folds, ramming into you with no care or concern for the burning stretch. Toji knew you liked it - besides, it was half the size of him anyway.

“C’mon, smile for the camera, pretty.” he grunts into your ear, “Tell ‘em how I make m’girl feel.” 

You can barely choke out, “Ah! Oh- shit. S’good. Hngh-”

Blood rushes straight to his cock at the way you were taking it like such a good girl. Head lolling against his muscled shoulder as Toji pushes the vibrator in and out in and out in and-

“Yeah? Who makes you feel this good?”

Angling it just right to expertly hit against that one spot he knew would have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“Ngh- Ah! You!” you whine, thighs quivering at both the burn of being so spread open and the electricity coursing through your veins at Toji’s relentless pace. Mind spinning, vision blurring, you barely register the hand snaking its way down down down.

A harsh thumb pressing down hard on your throbbing clit. “Wha- Toji hah-” you squeal as he starts drawing slow, tight little circles on it. Lazy and languid where he was fucking into you mercilessly like you were his lil’ toy right below. 

“Tha’s right, my girl. Say it for all those lonely little fuckers behind the camera to hear.” He doesn’t stop thrusting the vibrator into you, instead speeding up his movements impossibly at the lewd squelches filling the heady air.

“You. No one- else- hngh-” you moan softly hips bucking up in tandem with his hand. “M’gonna- Ah ngh- m’gonna-”

“Say my name, pretty.”

“T-Toji! Hah-” you squeal deliriously, cumming desperately around the buzzing vibrator. Walls clenching as he continues to fuck you through it. A smug little smirk on his face as he watches the way your eyes flutter closed, body bowing jerkily into his. 

Ah, you look so pretty like this. Those losers behind the screen were probably at the gates of heaven already. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you barely hear the low murmur from above you. “Now, you horny fuckers. Think her pretty hole can take my cock at the same time?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - The secret album

Geto Suguru doesn’t let anyone touch his phone - especially his photo gallery. Always turning off the screen from prying eyes, pocketing it safely before flashing an innocent grin. 

But why? That one time Shoko stole his phone while he was in the bathroom revealed only a few blurry, aesthetic shots of you, the sky, and you. So what did that man have to hide?

Well, what she didn’t know is had she scrolled down just a bit more - before Geto ripped the phone from her hands - she’d have come across the treasure trove named with a simple “Love.”

Not one, not even tens - but hundreds upon hundreds of videos of you all falling apart underneath him.

Most of them favorited, all of them sorted so meticulously according to his tastes in a way that showed he spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. But it wasn’t enough to capture your perfection. It never was. 

Which is probably why Geto had you sitting prettily on his face, juices spreading so lewdly across his mouth as he tonguefucked you into insanity. 

The video was shaky, focusing in and out of the way your bruised lips dropped into a soft oh! as he bullies past your swollen folds. 

It zooms in on the dazed expression on your face, eyes miles away. “Oh, Suguru. M-more” your broken moans crackle through the speaker. Just barely capturing the soft ah! ah! ah! escaping your lips each time Geto’s tongue dips into your sloppy hole. 

Oh, this video was definitely going in his favorites.

“Take the phone, love. Show the camera how good I make you feel.” he murmurs into your dripping cunt, words hoarse with desire. 

And Geto might love you on film - but this was your favorite part. When the camera flips and you see him in all his disheveled, sinful glory. “Ah- y’look so pretty under me, Sugu.”

Dark hair splayed out on the pillow, stray strands sticking to his forehead as he looks at you with hazy, pussy-drunk eyes. His ringed fingers holding your thighs apart in a bruising grip. Lips glossy and swollen as they continue their abuse on your ravaged pussy. 

Flattening his tongue along your swollen folds, sliding teasingly between them. Your slick glistens in the dim lighting, dripping down down down the lower half of his face. 

And Geto, well, looks like he’s absolutely in heaven. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks at his girl’s pretty cunt, tipping his head back further just to let your sweet juices slide down his throat. 

You’re so focused on how pretty he looks that you almost miss the long fingers deftly snaking their way along your thigh. Spreading your swollen folds apart with his thumbs, he whispers raspily, “Shit. No video in the world can capture how pretty you look like this, love.”

The pure look of admiration has the camera shaking, and you sputtering out, “Wha- Suguru what nonsense-”

“Shhh, my girl. Lemme take care of it.”

And with that he’s sinking knuckle-deep into your pussy, while his ruby lips wrapping around your swollen clit. Zooming in desperately on the way he rolls his tongue harshly along it, sucking so sensually. Like a man starved. 

“Ah- hngh, Sugu. Feel s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers inside you. God, you don’t know how you don’t drop the phone at this point, white-hot jolts of pleasure running up your spine from where Geto was making out so sloppily with your cunt. 

Tears sting your eyes as he curls his fingers just right to brush against that one spot that has you bucking into his mouth for more more more- Hitting it over and over-

Fingers tangling in his silky hair, the video grainy with movement as you use it as leverage to grind deeper into Geto’s face. Chasing your high with an almost-embarrassing neediness. Close. So close. 

A muffled, “Cum f’me, love. Cum for the camera.”

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes, and Geto’s hungry gaze searing into your brain - and the video - as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face, grinding down desperately. Your vision is hazy, head spinning. 

But Geto’s is decidedly not as he quickly skims through the obscene video, lips still attached with yours. 

Ah, damn these cameras. No matter how high quality, he could never quite capture the delicate trail of drool decorating the corner of your lips. Or the exact pattern of the neat crescents that your nails leave on his chest. 

They could ever quite capture the perfection that was you.

But it’s fine. 

That’s what multiple takes are for, right?

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The photographer

Nanami Kento wasn’t into photography - which didn’t quite explain the tripod and hefty camera set sitting in the corner of his office. 

No, he was more into absolutely fucking ruining you in front of the camera just to capture a semblance of how heavenly you look for him. Which, well, explains the countless framed photographs decorating the walls of his often-locked office. Nothing extremely explicit - but enough to make a stray onlooker blush and look away.

And well, how could you say no? Especially when he had you bent over his desk, leaking tip dragging teasingly along your swollen folds, camera aimed right at the way you lean into his cock. 

Cold tabletop digging into your skin, his fingers warm on your pulsing clit. Drawing tight, methodical little circles. So like him.  

“C’mon, darling. Arch your back more f’me like a good girl.” he murmurs lowly, breath hot against your ear.

As if on autopilot, you press further into his swollen cock. Sliding it deftly between your folds, just aching for any bit of friction. “K-Kento, please-.” you babble, delirious from him and his piercing gaze and him. 

“Mhm, spread your legs more f’me. Yeah, jus’ like that, darling.” he mutters, voice steady with the audacity of someone that wasn’t grinding his rock-hard cock into your dripping cunt. Hips moving in shallow, mindless little motions despite himself. Yet, holding back so agonizingly. 

So, you take matters into your own hands. 

Slowly, purposefully, you lift yourself higher, arching so desperately into Nanami’s throbbing cock. The soft little bump! bump! bump! of him pulsing against your walls a tempo that you were losing your sanity to. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d be almost embarrassed by how needy you were acting. “Kento! Wan’ you to fuck me alre-”

You don’t get to finish the sentence, because Nanami only takes a second to snap back his hips before pressing into your dripping cunt. The stretch of your walls absolutely addictive.

Click!

Ah, there was the perfect shot. 

All the blood rushes to Nanami’s cock at what showed on the screen - the exact moment that he split you apart on his cock. Your eyes wide, mouth parted ever-so-slightly, such an obscene mixture of shock and ecstacy painted across your face. 

His girl was so beautiful. Especially when she was stuffed full of his cock.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

One hand steady on the camera, the other pulls you deeper onto his cock as Nanami begins to move inside you. Pulling out all the way till his leaking tip is just circling your sloppy entrance - only to ram his length into you mercilessly. 

“My girl wanted to be full of my cock?” he hums darkly, “S’full she can barely even speak?” Hungry eyes devour the way your pretty pussy was milking him so greedily, barely even letting him pull out to fuck back into you harder than before.

“Ah! Yes- hah-” you breathe out, “”Wanted hngh- s’bad-”

He maps every curve and dip of the way you grind down onto his cock, taking in the obscenely heavenly sight of his cock disappearing into your pretty pussy - and so does the camera. 

Click!

Another one - your eyes locked onto Nanami’s. Dripping cunt just barely in the frame as he continues ravaging you from behind. 

Back arched, such a sinful little expression on your face as you buck your hips wildly to meet his thrusts. As frantic as the hasty little movements of his thumb on your throbbing clit - not even circles anymore, just sloppy, sinful motions to get you off. 

“Hah- please Kento,”

Click! Click!

Oh, if Nanami had it his way these photos would decorate every hallway of this house. For everyone to see.

“Wanna- hngh- wanna cum, Kento.” you mewl, ass stinging from where Nanami’s toned pelvis smacked yours at a ceaseless, maddening cadence. Clit now ravaged from both his ruthless abuse and the heavy balls smacking against it with each thrust.

Click! Click! Click! 

“Then cum, darling.”

You see stars behind your eyes as you cum - or maybe that was the unforgiving camera. Capturing each and every detail of the way eyes, dazed and fucked-out, lock onto Nanami’s. Swollen lips dropping into such a pretty oh, Kento! Pushing yourself from the desk on shaky arms to arch so sinfully as Nanami goes over the edge as well. 

Camera shaky for the first time as he twitches inside you savagely, before pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into your quivering walls. Trickling down your legs so lewdly, pooling at the sterile floors below - a problem for later. 

Click!  Ah, another gem for his walls.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - The urgent calls

When Choso video calls you, you know never to answer in public. Why? Well… 

“Cho, what is- Oh.” Your words catch in your throat as you take in the absolutely sinful sight on your screen, cunt clenching in anticipation as you slowly bury deeper into your covers.

Legs spread on the bed, such a pretty blush dusting his face, throbbing erection leaking furiously on his toned abs - your boyfriend was an absolute vision. 

“Baby…” he whines, sending a jolt of pleasure right down to your cunt. “Was missin’ you today.”

Ah, you can’t help but tease him a bit. Raising a brow, “Oh really?” 

Despite his absolutely ravaged state, Choso finds it in himself to scoff, “M’serious. Jus’ thinking about that slutty pink bra you had on today. How much better it would look on my bedroom floor.” 

A large hand makes its way on screen, deftly snaking down his milky skin - down, down down all the way from his abs, resting just at the tufts of black hair at his toned pelvis. Waiting. Teasing. 

Now it was your turn to scoff, pussy twinging impatiently at the way he was so stubbornly waiting for you to break first. Well, two can play that game.

Unbuttoning your shirt slowly - so agonizingly slowly - revealing just a flash of that pink he wanted so bad. That rips a low groan out of Choso, precum smearing on his palm as he squeezes his swollen cock. Success. 

“C’mon now, baby, don’t tease. Be a good girl f’me.”

Batting your lashes mockingly, “You first.”

You always did know how to get what you want, huh? Because with an impatient little grunt, Choso spits a steady stream of saliva once, twice onto his furiously red cock. 

Your mouth waters as he grips the base tight, so achingly hard and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Precum leaking down his glistening veins, pooling at the heavy balls that twitch at the mere sound of your voice as you mutter, “Oh. You really did miss me.”

“Mhm, your turn.” he gets out through a low hiss, desperation bleeding through your speakers and into the heady air. Starting to pull on his cock in shallow, mindless little tugs - just the way you do it.

Finally relenting, you slip off your top, reaching for the clasp behind your when-

“Keep it on. Now spread your pretty legs for me, baby.”

Choso’s greedy eyes are locked on the screen as you flip the camera, showing off your already-soaked panties. Oh, you little minx. 

“Shit. You don’ know what you do to me, baby.” he groans, movements getting jerkier. Fist flying up and down his cock - just wishing his hands were yours. Ah, how yours would be softer, prettier, straining to cup his thick cock. “C’mon now, my girl. Show me you wan’ me just as much.”

God, Choso thinks he could cum right on the spot as you hastily remove your wet panties, delicate trails of slick connecting them to your pretty cunt as you slide it down your legs. Yet, he manages to find it in himself to grit out a low, “Touch yourself the way I would, baby.”

And, well, you don’t need to be told twice. 

Bullying your fingers through your swollen folds, thumb just grazing your throbbing clit. Purposefully teasing yourself - purposefully not giving in to what you craved so bad. No, you were too entranced with what was onscreen. 

With the way Choso was fucking his fist so desperately. Like he was trying to fuck something delicious out. Harder on the base, featherlight on his flushed head. Thumb teasing under the slit just the way you would.

“Shit- Oh, baby,” Choso groans, his hips bucking wildly as if he could somehow close the distance between you. His grip on his cock almost painful as he pounds into his hand. Ah, how you wish that was your hand instead.

Your fingers dip lower, rubbing your entrance. A thrill running through you at the way Choso’s eyes widen as you slide a finger inside yourself with a whine of his name. 

“Need you here with me, need to feel you around me,” you pant, rubbing against your clit in time with his fist, eyes locked on the way his throbbing cock twitches in his hands at the mere sound of your voice. Palm running up and down up and-

“Choso, just come here an’ fuck me already.”

You catch a glimpse of his eyes flickering closed, breath slowing, a satisfied smile curling his lips and then- thick spurts of cum covering his toned abs. Glistening so deliciously in the dim lighting as Choso strokes himself through his high. 

You on the other hand…

“Cho~ Can’t cum without you here.”  you hum coyly, slightly whiny yet not desperate - not yet.

“Get ready, baby. M’gonna be there in five.” Ah, how you loved when Choso video calls you.

♡ GOJO SATORU - The wallpaper fiend

Gojo Satoru loved to show off his wallpaper, babbling about his “beautiful girlfriend” as he flashed the picture to any and everyone he came across. 

It wasn’t anything strange, really - just a slightly blurry photo of the upper half of your head, eyes slightly scrunched like you were in the depths of laughter. It’s only when someone stares too hard, finger pressing just a bit too long that Gojo snatches back his phone with an unreadable little smirk. 

Because if they had they’d notice it was a live wallpaper. 

One that - despite being so proudly the great Gojo Satoru’s wallpaper - was for only his eyes to see. One where the camera shifts ever-so-slightly downwards to show you splayed out deliciously on your mattress, pale, sculpted thighs straddling your face - zooming in on the way your swollen lips bulge wraps so lewdly around his throbbing cock. 

“Oh, sweetheart, jus’ look at you.” his voice rumbles from above, voice hoarse with desire. “Taking my cock so well, huh?”

All he gets are muffled groans, tears glistening in your eyes as Gojo shoves his length deeper down your throat. He chuckles lightly, fucking into your hot mouth in small grinds of his hips, “Oh yeah, forgot you can’t speak sweetheart.”

Ah, what a smug bastard. And despite the dick lodged in your throat, you find it in yourself to stare up defiantly into his greedy gaze, moaning sinfully around him. That makes that confident facade crumble a little, the camera is shaky as Gojo lets out a broken little, “Sh-shit. You’re really asking for it.”

And maybe you were a mastermind - maybe you were an idiot. Because Gojo pulls his hips back till his leaking tip is just kissing your kiss-bitten lips. Smearing his precum around your glossy mouths. Only to slam back into you mercilessly, forcing you to relax your throat - because Gojo’s had enough of playing game

His searing grip on your scalp just out of the frame as he fucks into your mouth like his personal toy. Not stopping till your nose is pressed into the snowy white tufts of hair at his pelvis. 

Camera scrambling to capture the way your throat bulges so obscenely as he fills you up, starting to fuck into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. “Mmm, ngh. Fuck, sweetheart. Can feel me inside you right…” A large, veiny hand makes its way into the video as it wraps around your throat, squeezing. Tight. “...here.” Gojo rasps over your choked-up moans. 

Tears were streaming down your face now, nails digging desperately into the hand wrapped around your throat. But it seems Gojo had no care in the world for them. Because he coos mockingly, “Awww, don’ cry, sweetheart. Jus’ look at that slutty mouth of yours, sucking the fucking soul out of me.”

And as the screen grows grainier, the camerawork more shaky - Gojo’s hips grow more frantic. 

Cock hitting the back of your throat at a maddening cadence in a way he wishes the camera could pick up. Hand tightening around your throat as he fucks into you faster and deeper. Hip chasing the feeling of your tongue wrapped so deliciously around his throbbing cock. Delicately tracing the veins along the side, flicking his sensitive slit just the way you know he likes. Over and over-

The screen flashes white - or maybe that was just Gojo’s cum. Shooting thick, endless spurts of his seed that paint your pretty face white. And oh, this was his favorite part, how you take it so well. 

Your tongue darting out to catch the stream of cum that gushes out of him, pooling it on your tongue before letting it slide to the back of your throat. Eyes gazing up so eagerly into his as you stick your tongue out to show, well, nothing. Taking him up so greedily. 

And if Gojo was any less of a man, he’d be showing this off to everyone he knew. And in the end, before the wallpaper goes back to that seemingly innocent picture of your face - if he turned up the volume real high - Gojo could hear his voice in the background, breathing out through ragged gasps. “C’mon, sweetheart, I wanna make a few more wallpapers.”

A/N. LMAO this came to me when I thought about how Gojo is the type to have a polaroid of your tits behind his phone case. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sume3luvv]

Thinking about...

༉‧₊˚. o.dazai x fem!reader

now playing...

MELTING by kali uchis ₊˚ෆ

might be a few mistakes cuz sume did not proofread...

pre-boyfriend!dazai who has never thought that such a unforgivable and sinful person like him could be loved by anybody.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who never thought about love until he met you.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who first met you at the bookstore that recently opened down the street, which you worked at.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who requested philosophical and dark books recommendations, catching you a bit off guard.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who sighed in defeat when you had no idea what to give him because you never read that kind of genre.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who blinks in curiosity when you lead him to a brand new aisle filled with a genre that was completely different than what he asked for.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who bonds with you over your guys mutual interests for books, instantly becoming amused by your calm and kind personality in contrast to his melancholic, yet cheerful one.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who made stupid excuses to keep on coming back to the bookstore after the day you two met.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who gave you subtle hints that's he's interested in you, like brushing his knuckles against you by "accident" when he bought a book, or when he'd lean in to see your pretty face closer.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who gave up on giving your oblivious self hints and (in)directly asked you out on a date with that sly grin spread across his lips.

" you know what would be crazy? going somewhere, maybe a restaurant. you and me, together. alone. " " are you asking me out on a date? " you asked, raising an eyebrow. " hm.... I don't know, what do you think?" dazai teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who takes you out for dinner after saving his money and not recklessly spending it all, or losing it in a river from another suicide attempt.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who walks on the beach with you after dinner, shoulders bumping while fingertips brush against each other.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who stops and takes your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckle before flashing you a charming smile, causing your heart to do multiple flips.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who asks you to be his girlfriend while the sun is setting beautifully in the background.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who feels a pounding in his chest when you agree with the cutest smile. he can't contain his excitement as he cups your chin, bringing you face closer and kisses you gently.

" you mean it? " he asked, eyes lighting up. " you're really saying yes? " yeah, i am. " you replied with a shy smile. dazai grinned and pulled you into a tight hug. " wow... i must be dreaming. quick- pinch me so i know this is real. " you rolled your eyes playfully. " you're ridiculous. " " ridiculously lucky, maybe. because i'm finally dating the woman of my dreams. "

boyfriend!dazai who isn't afraid to show people that you guys are dating. for example, he would wear those 'i <3 my girlfriend!' shirts if you guys go on a date.

boyfriend!dazai who has his arm wrapped around your waist in public.

boyfriend!dazai who can be possessive in a good way.

boyfriend!dazai who swings your guys arms when holding hands as you guys take a stroll at the beach while watching the sunset.

boyfriend!dazai who believes you're a daydream, a woman too good to be true.

boyfriend!dazai who believes you put him under your spell, and that's why he's so deep into loving you. not that he's complaining, though.

boyfriend!dazai who thinks you get prettier and prettier every day.

boyfriend!dazai who studies your humor to make you laugh in order to see your pretty smile.

" ah! " dazai cries and holds a hand over his eyes. " what happened? are you okay? " you ask, eyebrows furrowing in a panic as you try and pry dazai's hands away from his face. " i just got blinded... by your lethal face card! " dazai jokes, peeking at you through his fingers with a grin. you couldn't help but snort and smile at your goofy boyfriend. " you're so stupid... "

boyfriend!dazai who rants to his coworkers about you, babbling about anything and everything about you. your hair, your eyes, you personality, the way you sleep at night- dazai just loves everything about you!

boyfriend!dazai who slowly opens up about his past, knowing he can't keep the ugly truth from your any longer.

boyfriend!dazai who, despite his flaws, is astonished you still want to be with him after finding about his past.

boyfriend!dazai who brings you to oda's grave with a proud smile and an arm wrapped around your waist as he introduces you to his old friend.

boyfriend!dazai who wishes oda was still alive to meet you.

boyfriend!dazai who melts whenever he sees your smile ignite, knowing that everything is alright.

boyfriend!dazai who feels safe and at home whenever he's around you.

boyfriend!dazai who has trouble sleeping at night, so he holds you close and watches you sleep at night, finding your peaceful slumber calming.

boyfriend!dazai who loves to be spooned at night, burying his face into your chest and listening to the even beats of your heart.

boyfriend!dazai who knows every little thing about you. from your worst to your best.

boyfriend!dazai who kisses you any chance he gets.

boyfriend!dazai who feels the will to live his life because he has you.

boyfriend!dazai who loves his girl more than anything, and feels so unbelievably lucky to have you in his life. maybe god has never treated him good, but one good thing the lord has given to him is you.

a/n: it has been awhile since i've uploaded, so think of it as a treat! i don't what came over me, but i just had a blast of energy and the will to finally complete this imagine that has been in my drafts for centuries (or 2 months).

sume loves all of you guys! (≧ڡ≦*)

[mrhowletts]

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓

𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓 ♡ ૮₍ ˶′ ᵕ ‵˶ ₎ა

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 !!

. . . ─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ─── 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

. . . @loganspet

Breeding Kink

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ⋆｡˚⭑ ❝—𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! ❞ ⋆｡˚⭑

Explicit Content, Soft Dom! Logan, Sub! Reader, Mutual Pleasure, Edging, Overstimulation, Praise, Claws Come Out, Creampie, Body Worship,Implied Baby-Making,(P in V), Marriage, Handjob, Fingering, Pussydrunk

Logan filling you to the brim NSFW!!🍰

Logan smelled you before he even stepped into the bedroom. Something warm and sweet, vanilla curling through the air, woven between the flicker of candle wax. It was soft—too soft for a man like him—but fuck, it was you.

And then he saw you.

Perched on the edge of the bed, wrapped up in lace and tiny pink bows.

He stopped in the doorway, boots still on, belt still half-undone from the long drive home. His body ached—not from the usual strain of old wounds and old sins, but from the simple fact that it had been too long. Too many nights of passing touches, of restless sleep, of not having the time to really hold you.

“Jesus.”

You pouted at him, shifting slightly, letting the lace cling to your curves. His favorite lace, the one that barely covered a damn thing, all sheer panels and delicate straps.

“Do ya’ like it?”

Logan’s hands flexed at his sides. His jaw ticked. Like was an understatement.

“Hun—”

“You haven’t touched me yet.”

His fingers curled into fists.

Your voice was honeyed, teasing, but there was something else under it, something softer. You knew what today was. He hadn’t mentioned it, didn’t think much of birthdays anymore. You had thought about it.

He could smell your arousal, could see the way your nipples peaked against the lace, could hear the too-steady rhythm of your breathing, waiting for him to do something. Anything.

Logan exhaled sharply and dropped onto the edge of the bed, running a hand down his face. His belt hung undone, jeans loose on his hips, Logan’s his body was tight. His hands braced against his thighs, shoulders hunched forward like he was waiting something out. A sigh, thick with exhaustion, left his lips.

Your lips parted. This was your moment.

You slid into his lap, straddling one thick thigh, your hands running up his chest, your mouth brushing against the rough line of his jaw.

“I missed this. Lo”

He inhaled sharply, his chest rising against yours.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of his neck.

“Missed you too,” he admitted, voice rough.

You felt the friction as you shifted against him, riding the denim just a little bit. His breath caught. In order to anchor you, his other hand reached up and grabbed your rib cage. You could sense the little trembling in his fingertips and the warmth of his palm. Logan put his fingers through yours, not just holding you there. Warm and strong, his wedding band felt chilly against your flesh. Slowly moving his thumb over your knuckles, he rooted himself in you and the sensation of your hand in his.

His head tipped back slightly, giving you better access. You kissed his throat again, open-mouthed, sucking gently against the thick muscle.

“Shit,” he exhaled.

And then you felt it—the moment he let go.

The moment wolffish instincts took over.

His body melted into you, broad and warm, his thighs spreading wider beneath you, giving you more space. His other hand smoothed down your side, tracing the sheer lace, his fingers brushing against the soft curve of your breast.

And then you palmed him through his boxers.

His head jerked forward, his hands gripping, his breath stuttering.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he rasped.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t want to stop you.

You stroked him slow, teasing, feeling the way he grew harder under your touch. His pupils were blown wide, needy, and his lips parted slightly, dragging in shaky breaths.

“Look at you,” you whispered, voice thick with affection. “My beautiful husband.”

Logan groaned low in his throat. His fingers squeezed around yours tight for a moment before releasing, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth. He kissed the back of your hand, his lips warm, his breath uneven.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’m not gonna last long, baby.”

Your smile was soft as you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Then let go for me,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”

He shuddered. His free arm wrapped around you then, pulling you in tight against his chest. His breath was ragged against your hair as his hand splayed wide across your back, holding you against him as if keeping you this close might keep him from falling apart.

It didn’t.

He gasped as he came, body shaking, his claws snikt out, tearing through the lace. His whole body tensed—then melted—his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he let out a shuddering breath, low and broken. His fingers slid between your thighs.

“Oh, baby,” his breath came out ragged, his body still twitching from the aftershocks. His claws had sliced through the fabric the second he came, shredded ribbons of lace now barely clinging to your soft skin. And fuck, you smelled good. Warm. Sweet.

It was all over his hands, all over his thigh where you had rubbed against him, all over his skin where you had kissed him soft and slow while driving him insane.

His pupils were still blown wide when he moved.

“Missed you, Lo” you whimpered, voice muffled against his chest. “Missed you so much.”

His grip on you tightened.

“This what you missed, baby?”

You nodded, back arching instinctively.

Logan didn’t hesitate.

He rolled you onto your stomach, dragging you against him, pressing his weight over you, keeping you close. His chest was firm against your back, his breath warm at the shell of your ear. His free hand found yours again, lacing your fingers together above your head.

And then his mouth was on you—sharp teeth sinking into the plush curve of your ass, making you cry out.

His lips soothed over the mark immediately, warm tongue flicking against sensitive skin before he bit again, this time at the dip of your hip, dragging another whimper from your throat.

“Fuck, my darlin wife,” he muttered against your skin, breath ragged. “You feel so good.”

His hands spread you wider, his rough fingers slipping between your thighs, teasing, stroking, pressing inside so slowly. You gasped, your hands tightening around his.

Logan chuckled against your skin, His lips found your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, nipping at the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. His fangs scraped your pulse point, making you shiver. “Hurts so good, don’t it?”

Your breath hitched.

“Yes—” riding back against his hand.

Logan groaned, his cock twitching against his jeans, his self-control hanging by a thread. He squeezed your hand in his before slipping a third finger inside without warning.

You cried out, thighs trembling, your whole body arching off the bed.

Logan held you there, anchored against him. His breath was ragged at your ear, his body warm and solid against yours. His lips brushed your temple, his voice deep, possessive.

. . .

His pants were finally gone, discarded somewhere on the floor, leaving nothing between you.

Logan didn’t rush—not yet. He took his time, dragging those rough hands over your body, memorizing every inch of bare skin. The shredded lace that barely clung to you? That didn’t stand a chance. His claws unsheathed with another sharp snikt, and in one fluid motion, he sliced through the delicate fabric, tearing it away completely.

His eyes were wild, dark with want, flickering between your heaving chest and the mess between your thighs. His breathing was heavy, his jaw tight, as he ran his palms up your body, cupping the swell of your breasts, his thumbs grazing over your sensitive nipples.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, leaning down, his lips brushing over one peak before closing around it. His tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, and you gasped, moaning.

He groaned, suckling hard, one hand kneading the soft flesh, the other sliding down to grip your hip, his fingernails digging into your skin.

“You were made for me,” he rasped, dragging his mouth lower, kissing down your stomach, nipping and sucking until he reached the place where you were dripping for him.

He swiped his fingers through your slick folds, gathering the wetness before pressing them into your mouth. “Taste yourself, sweetheart,” he whispered, his gaze locked on yours, full of hunger and reverence.

You whimpered, sucking his fingers into your mouth, tongue swirling around them.

Your tongue swirled around his fingers, sucking them in as your eyes fluttered shut. Logan groaned at the sight, his jaw clenching, his breath ragged.

“Hell”

His fingers slipped free with a wet pop, and before you could beg, before you could even breathe, his mouth was on you.

His tongue curled against your clit, lapping broad and slow before narrowing to a precise flick that sent a shudder wracking through your body. His mutton chops scratched against the insides of your thighs, rough and hot, his breath burning where it ghosted over your soaked skin. He growled low in his chest, the vibrations sparking through you, making your hips buck up into his mouth.

“You’re so good to me—so good—”

He groaned into your cunt, his tongue curling deep inside you, his breath hot, damp against your soaked skin. The sound of your praise made him ache, made him desperate to pull more from you, to make you feel every bit of his devotion

His hands tightened against your thighs, holding you still, forcing you to take it. “Stay still, baby,” he mumbled between hungry licks, his voice dark and breathless.

“Lemme eat yeah” He was so beautiful like this—wild and hungry,

You whimpered, barely able to form words, your fingers threading into his thick hair, tugging hard. He groaned at that, pressing his face deeper between your legs, lapping at you like a man starved. His tongue flicked over your clit again, relentless now, faster, harder—fuck. Logan’s hips rutted against the mattress, barely aware of the way he was grinding against the sheets, so lost in the way you sounded, the way you tasted, the way your body moved under his tongue.

Your body tensed, your thighs trembling around his head as he devoured you, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet of the room. His mutton chops were damp, slick with your arousal, shining in the candlelight as he kept going, as he drank you in like he couldn’t get enough.

“Made for me,” he panted against you, tongue dipping deep, fucking into you before sliding back up to suck your clit between his lips. “You were made for me, sweetheart. This pussy—fuck—” He groaned, pressing his face harder against you, his nose nudging against your swollen flesh, his tongue flicking faster, deeper.

“Come for me,”

He lapped up every drop, his tongue still working you through the aftershocks, still flicking against your overstimulated clit, making you whimper, thrash beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, his body trembling with restraint. Logan didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. He kept licking, kept lapping up everything you gave him, drinking you down, his breath coming fast and heavy as you trembled against him. His mutton chops were damp, his lips slick, his hands shaking as he finally pulled back just enough to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh—soothing over the marks he’d left with his teeth, his stubble.

“Fuck, too much—Logan—” you gasped, your voice shaky, pleading.

“Sweetie” he murmured, crawling up your body, his lips pressing against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His cock was aching.

“Need you,”

…

Then, in an instant, he was pressing you into the mattress, pinning you beneath him, his cock heavy and leaking against your entrance. You gasped, suddenly straddling his waist, your hands splayed against his broad chest. He was still inside you, still stretching you open, still filling you so deep you swore you could feel him everywhere.

Logan groans as he watches the way you shudder beneath him, your body still fluttering around nothing when he pulls out, leaving you empty and aching. A whimper spills from your lips, your brows furrowing as you try to clench around the absence of him.

“Don’t pout, princess,” he rasps, “Gotta make sure you really want it.”

Your breath stutters when he fists himself, his cock slick and shining with your arousal, the thick head rubbing against your swollen clit, smearing a mess of both of you over your skin. You let out a needy little whine, reaching for him, desperate.

“I want it so badly,” you whisper, eyes big, pretty, pleading.

Logan grins, slow and sharp, still pumping his cock right above your trembling body. “You wanna help, sweetheart? Hm?”

You nod quickly, licking your lips as you wrap your fingers around him, your small hand struggling to close around his girth. Logan curses under his breath, his hips jerking slightly when you stroke him, slow at first, teasing the thick vein that runs along the underside of his length.

“Fuck, that’s it, sugar,” he groans, his hand covering yours, guiding you to go faster, tighter. “Knew you had it in you—such a good girl, knowin’ how to take care of her man.”

Your other hand drifts down to cup his heavy balls, rolling them gently, and Logan growls, his grip tightening on your wrist.

“You keep that up,princess, ‘m not gonna last,” he warns, but you just smile up at him, lashes fluttering as you pump him faster.

“Don’t wanna wait,” you murmur, tilting your head. “Wanna see you make a mess for me, Lo.”

He curses, his head dropping forward, his body tensing above you. And then he’s spilling, thick ropes of cum landing hot across your stomach, some dribbling down to your swollen folds, making a filthy, sticky mess of you.

You hum in satisfaction, running your fingers through the sticky heat, smearing it against your skin like you want to keep it there forever. Logan watches, breath still heavy, his gaze dark as he leans down, rubbing his fingers into the mess along with yours, pressing some back against your folds.

Before you can catch your breath, he’s pushing your thighs apart again, rubbing the mess of him against your fluttering entrance, teasing your overstimulated core.

Wet slap of skin meeting skin fills the room, his name spilling from your lips between gasps.

“There she is,” He groans, watching your face twist in pleasure, watching your chest rise and fall, the way your pretty tits bounce with every thrust. He moves a hand to your belly again, pressing down, feeling himself inside you. His lips brushed against your ear, voice husky and deep.

Your nails sank into his back as he pushed deeper, stretching you around his thick length. His skin was hot, damp with sweat, his muscles tense beneath your fingertips. you up just like he promised, thick heat dripping from where you’re still joined. He stays there, stays, pressing deep, as if making sure it takes.

Logan groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his hips rolling slow, Your fingers dragged down his back, nails raking over his skin, drawing thin, red lines that healed almost instantly—only for you to mark him again.

The pain spurred him on. A snarl tore from his throat as he snapped his hips forward, setting a punishing pace, fucking you deep, raw, desperate.

His claws dug into the mattress, shredding through fabric and wood as his body moved with yours, chasing pleasure, chasing the overwhelming need to claim you.

You were sobbing his name, your nails carving deeper, and the sharp sting only made him thrust faster, harder, like his body was built for this—for you.

His mouth is on you—everywhere. Devouring you, You grip his hair, tugging him back up to you, gasping when his mouth slants over yours—hungry, demanding, the kiss hot and desperate. You taste whiskey and cigar smoke.

It’s too much, too full, your breath catching as he stretches you open, deeper than he’s ever been. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open for him, his voice a ragged growl.

Logan snarls. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn tight, baby—shit—gonna pump you full”

You scream his name, body breaking, shaking, pleasure so raw and all-consuming that you see white.

“There we go,” he groans, gripping your hips as he starts to move again,

“Yes—yes, Logan, please—”

Your body broke around him—shaking, sobbing, gripping him so tight he stayed—buried deep, holding you close, making sure you felt all of him. practically dripping from his seed.

“Love you darlin’”

“Love you too,” you reply softly, your voice a little breathless but full of affection.

He chuckles, low and warm. “Think we might need a new bed.”

You glance at the wreckage—the mattress askew, the frame half-split from the sheer force of his movements, and the claw marks etched deep into the fabric. The bedframe is a mess. The thought of it makes you laugh softly.

“I think you ruined it.”

He smirks, running his hand through his hair, the sharpness of his claws now retracted but still visible in the way his muscles flex as he stretches. “Couldn’t help it” His grin widens. “Neighbors are definitely gonna know we had a good time.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the giggle that escapes you, still a little dazed from the intensity of it all.

Logan watches you, his gaze softening as he wipes a strand of hair from your face. “Guess I’ll just have to get another bed.” The thought of replacing the bed not bothering him in the slightest.

You curl into his side, your head resting on his shoulder as you try to calm your breathing. “I think I’ll let you deal with the aftermath of that, Lo.”

“You know we got the goal I wanted, though, right?”

You nod, the contentment in your body proof of his success. “Yeah, I know.”

He pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head. “Good. ‘Cause you’re gonna make me a damn good daddy one of these days.”

You laugh softly, teasing. “I guess we’ll see about that, huh?”

. . .

[kathaelipwse]

"Keep Writing Sweetheart" | C.Seungcheol

Warnings: Explicit Language (MDNI 18+) | Heavy Teasing | Suggestive | Seungcheol Being a Menace Synopsis: You never thought your little Seungcheol thirst blog on tumblr would catch his attention—until it did. A simple fan meet turns into the most humiliating, exhilarating, and downright sinful encounter of your life. Now, with your sanity hanging by a thread. One question remains: How the hell did Choi Seungcheol find your filthy smut? Word Count: 1.5K Author's Note: This started as a delulu thought and spiraled into absolute chaos. Seungcheol is filthy, cocky, and entirely too powerful, and I refuse to be normal about it. Enjoy suffering.

You were a seasoned veteran in the chaotic realm of Seungcheol fanfiction. Your Tumblr blog, a veritable altar of carnal devotion, had recently exploded, hitting 10K followers—a milestone you celebrated with a brazen face reveal.

A simple selfie, captioned: "Now y'all know who's been thirsting over Cheol the most."

The response was a digital riot.

Mutuals screamed, thirsty asks flooded in, and the discourse was gloriously unhinged. But you remained steadfast, continuing to post your most depraved fics, crafting scenarios where Seungcheol was worshipped, debauched, and insatiably ravenous.

And then, the Seventeen fan meet happened, a cruel twist of fate.

You'd fantasized about this moment—meeting him, hearing his deep voice pronounce your name, but the reality was a wicked deviation from your wildest dreams.

As you slid your album across the table, Seungcheol looked up, his eyes locking onto yours, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. "So… a Tumblr writer, huh?"

Your soul evaporated.

Your grip tightened on the table's edge, knuckles white. No fucking way. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he—

But then, he signed your album with a predatory smirk, scribbling something extra before returning it.

Your gaze dropped, your breath catching in your throat.

"To my favorite writer. Keep up the good work, sweetheart. ;) (P.S. I especially enjoyed the one where you described me wrecking you apart in the dressing room my sweet needy girlfriend.)"

Your entire reality shattered.

The staff called for the next fan, but you stood there, petrified, decimated, obliterated. When you finally stumbled away, your hands trembled, clutching the album like a lifeline.

You needed air. You needed to purge your blog from existence.

The event concluded, and you were poised for a swift escape, but a staff member intercepted you.

"Seungcheol-ssi asked if you could wait a moment."

Your stomach plummeted into the abyss.

Minutes stretched into an eternity before he appeared—casual, confident, dangerously alluring.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

You opened your mouth, but utter silence was your only response.

Cheol stepped closer, arms crossing over his broad chest. "Cat got your tongue?" His biceps strained against his shirt, and you hated how your eyes were drawn to them. "That's funny, considering how much you write about me using mine on you."

Your breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping your lips.

He chuckled—low, guttural, dripping with sin. "Oh, don't look so shocked. You didn't think I'd find out?" He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. "Some of those fics… incredibly detailed. Specific. Makes me wonder—"

His eyes traveled over your body, slow and deliberate, lingering on your curves.

"Have you been fantasizing about me, sweetheart? About every single word you wrote?"

Your knees threatened to give way.

"I—"

Cheol took another step forward, cornering you against the wall. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his cologne—woodsy, musky, intoxicating—filling your senses.

"You don't hold back when you write, do you?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "All that talk about me ravaging you. Tasting you. Making you beg for mercy."

Your lungs seized.

His hand lifted—not touching, just hovering. His fingers ghosted over your wrist, your waist, your hip, the delicate curve of your throat, not quite making contact, but your skin burned with the phantom touch.

"You paint me as a man consumed by lust in your stories." He smirked, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and predatory. "Tell me, sweetheart… do you want to find out if your depictions are accurate?"

Your stomach dropped into your core.

He leaned in, his breath brushing your ear.

"Or maybe," he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp, "you'd rather write about what happens next? About how I finally claim you, how I fill you with every inch of me, how you scream my name until you're hoarse?"

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Your mouth opened—desperate to speak, to deny, to beg, to say yes, anything—

But Seungcheol pulled back, letting the moment hang in the air, a taut, electric tension stretching between you. He smirked, a predatory grin playing on his lips, like he'd won some wicked, unholy game.

"Keep writing, sweetheart." His voice was thick with amusement, laced with a hint of something darker. "I love seeing you try to fit me in… somewhere. Especially when you describe me stretching you out, filling you up, making you mine."

Your heart flatlined, then restarted with a violent jolt.

And then, just like that, he turned and walked away—leaving you standing there, utterly wrecked, ruined, undone.

Your blog was about to implode in a blaze of glory. You needed to write. You needed to describe the way his eyes looked, the way his voice sounded, the way the air crackled between you. You needed to write every single explicit detail, and you needed to post it immediately.

---

[cece693]

Just an idea that suddenly came to mind. What if you (the reader) have to fight Bucky during his winter soldier programming? What if something similar occurs to you guys as it did with Vision and Wanda? I plan for this to be divided into two parts since I don't have an ending in mind and this post isn't doing it for me. Hope you enjoy!

I Forgive You

pairing: bucky barnes x gender neutral reader tags: bucky can't catch a break, you are strong (power and skill wise), takes place during infinity war, open ended

You perch on the edge of the facility’s rooftop, the evening breeze ruffling through your hair as you stare off into the distance. The compound below you hums with activity—footsteps, clanging metal, distant voices—evidence of the Avengers preparing for the battles to come. You’re one of them now, and not just any member: you’re often dubbed the “strongest Avenger.” Some might say that’s an exaggeration, but you know what you’re capable of. You’ve trained in every form of combat you could get your hands on—hand-to-hand, swords, firearms. And to cap it all off, you possess powers that make you a formidable force, even among Earth’s mightiest heroes.

Still, when you’re alone, your thoughts drift to him. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes—your friend, your partner, the man you fell in love with. You think back to those frantic days when you found yourself on opposite sides in the battle between Tony and Steve. You were forging your own path, torn by loyalty and your own moral compass. Bucky was caught in the crossfire of past sins and present accusations. Through the chaos, you discovered each other and headed to Wakanda for Bucky to finally heal and escape the ghosts of his past. But things never were that easy.

The last 'normal' day you had with him you'll treasure for eternity. Bright golden rays washed over the Wakandan horizon the morning Shuri completed Bucky’s deprogramming. The moment felt surreal, the two of you standing among those tall grasses and budding flowers, watching the sun’s first light spread across the sky. Bucky’s hand tentatively found yours, his metal fingers brushing your palm. Despite all the horrors you’d both seen, despite the fracture lines left in his mind, he looked at you like you were his anchor to a life without darkness.

“You okay?” you asked him quietly, lacing your fingers with his.

He gave you a lopsided smile. “I’m not sure I deserve to be, but for the first time in a while, I feel almost free.”

And you believed him. You had to—he needed that belief.

Of course, that's when Thanos appeared, drawing you and Bucky into the largest battle Earth had ever faced. Battle lines were drawn in Wakanda, where countless outriders of Thanos’s army threatened to overrun the nation.

During the fray, you unleashed the full extent of your powers. Energy crackled around you, turning each of your blows into seismic shockwaves. You were almost unstoppable. At your side, Bucky fought with lethal precision, his vibranium arm glinting in the sunlight as bullets whizzed past. The synergy between you two was remarkable, like a dance choreographed through countless training hours and mutual trust.

But trust is fragile in the face of unimaginable power.

Suddenly, you felt a colossal presence. Looking up, your gaze locked onto the towering figure of Thanos. He stepped through the remnants of the battlefield, the Infinity Gauntlet glowing with stolen Stones. Even from a distance, you saw his gaze flick over your form, and something sparked behind his violet eyes—recognition. Fear, perhaps. The Titan raised his armored hand. A wave of twisted energy arced in your direction. You braced yourself, arms crossed in front of your body, channeling every ounce of power you had to shield your allies from the blast. Still, the force knocked you back, sending you tumbling across the ravaged earth.

When the shock subsided, a chill shot down your spine. You stood, shaking off the impact, and found the battlefield too quiet. Your eyes landed on Bucky just in time to see him freeze. His face contorted; his pupils dilated. It happened in a split second.

Hydra’s trigger words, carried on a faint, telepathic echo you couldn’t hear but Bucky could. An alien whisper from Thanos’s cosmic manipulations. And just like that, the Winter Soldier emerged once more. His steel-blue eyes turned ice-cold. The gentle man you loved disappeared behind an all-too-familiar mask of lethal focus. He turned away from the outriders, ignoring Thanos for the moment. His sights honed in on you.

“Bucky?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his lips parted, eyes dark with an unspoken mission. This time, the programming was crystal clear: Take you out. Kill the one threat that even Thanos couldn't account for. Your greatest strength had painted a target on your back. You raised your hands, glowing with the power you wielded. But your heart pounded. Could you really fight him at full strength? Bucky—your Bucky—was somewhere behind that cold stare.

“Stand down!” Steve’s voice cut through the chaos, but Bucky didn’t listen. He pivoted, leveling his gun at Steve, forcing the Captain to dodge.

“Barnes, snap out of it!” Natasha shouted, but her attempts to get close were cut off by a brutal strike from Bucky’s vibranium arm. Everyone else was busy trying to fend off the onslaught of Thanos’s forces. Your team needed your power, but now you were pinned in a conflict of your own.

Bucky lunged at you, knife flashing. You parried with your forearm, each metallic clash echoing in the war-torn field. You had no intention of hurting him, so you held back, turning your power inward, using just enough to keep him off-balance. His movements were a lethal dance—calculated, relentless, unstoppable. Blow after blow, you deflected each strike, trying to talk him down. “Bucky, it’s me!” you cried, voice cracking. “You don’t want to do this!”

For a heartbeat, his eyes seemed to flicker, memories surfacing. The time you both sat under the Wakandan sunrise, the moments you’d shared—everything hung between you. Then the programming crushed it back down. His knife sliced through the air again. You twisted, sidestepping, but you were too concerned with not harming him, too torn by love and heartbreak. The blade found its mark.

A searing pain tore through your abdomen. Your eyes went wide, and a gasp tore from your throat. One heartbeat, two—time slowed. Your hands flew to the wound, crimson blooming across your fingertips. The world started spinning.

Bucky stood over you, knife still gripped in his metal hand. His expression was empty, but the second he saw your blood pooling on the battlefield, the mask began to crack. His breathing quickened; panic gripped him. Something deep within those blue eyes shattered.

“No,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

You collapsed to your knees, desperately trying to keep pressure on the wound. The pain was staggering, and your vision wavered at the edges as you fought against the darkness creeping in. The din of the battlefield—roaring explosions, clashing metal, and desperate shouts—faded into an echo, leaving only the trembling sound of Bucky’s voice. The knife clattered to the ground from his shaking hand, the cold light in his eyes replaced by raw horror.

Bucky dropped beside you, arms sliding around your body. Another wave of agony made you cry out, yet you clung to the faint relief of his warmth—even if it was stained by regret. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. His vibranium hand cradled your cheek as though you were made of porcelain. “I’m so sorry.”

The Winter Soldier façade seemed to shatter then, peeling away like a final layer of armor. What remained was Bucky Barnes—the man you loved, tears tracking down his face in heart-wrenching clarity. Meeting his gaze, you rallied the last of your strength, silently conveying what words couldn’t: You forgave him. You loved him.

In the distance, Thanos lumbered toward the heart of the battle, where your fellow Avengers continued to fight, unaware of the private tragedy unfolding. The war raged on, but in that moment, time felt suspended—for you, for Bucky, for everything else that mattered.

With trembling fingers, he pressed down on your wound, desperate to stop the flow of blood. “Not you too,” he pleaded, voice tight with fear. “Please don’t leave me.” You forced a weak smile; you refused to let your final expression be one of despair. You wouldn’t let Bucky’s last memory of you be filled with nothing but tears and regret.

Bucky’s grip on you tightened, as if he could anchor you to consciousness by sheer will. Each breath you took felt like shards of glass in your lungs, but you clung to awareness, swallowing down the pain.

“Stay with me,” Bucky begged. He looked up frantically, searching for help that was nowhere to be found—Shuri was likely in the labs, the medical units were overrun, and Wakanda’s defensive lines were collapsing under Thanos’s onslaught. “I’ll—I’ll get you to someone. We’ll find a healer—”

“Bucky.” Your voice trembled, but you forced each syllable past your dry lips. You reached up with a shaking hand, brushing aside a strand of his hair matted with dirt and sweat. “Don’t…don’t blame yourself.”

His eyes squeezed shut as tears rolled freely, wetting the blood-streaked dirt beneath you both. The regret in his gaze was heartbreaking. “I wasn’t in control,” he rasped, “but it was still my hand. And I—”

You pressed weakly against his cheek with your palm, stopping him. You didn’t have enough breath to argue, so you let your eyes speak your truth: He had been a pawn once again, manipulated by Thanos’s cruel plans. You forgave him—truly. He held your hand against his stubbled jaw, turning his face into your touch. His vibranium arm remained clamped over your wound, red seeping over silver. Every passing second felt like a lifetime.

Above you, the sky lit up with another shower of blasts, the barrier around Wakanda flickering under the assault. Your teammates were fighting valiantly—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, T’Challa—all risking their lives to push Thanos back. But you knew the Titan’s power was immense. If even your strength might not be enough to stop him, how could anyone else stand a chance? In your heart, you felt a pang of guilt for not being out there, protecting the team as you always had. But there was no denying your body was failing, and Bucky’s terrified eyes told you he could feel it too.

“Help!” His cry rose into the chaos, ragged and desperate. “Somebody help!”

[snghnlvr]

hope they caught us. / sim jaeyun

jake x fem reader

synopsis: you knew that an academic girl like you shouldn’t be involved with a mischievous boy like jake, but both of you hide it well…right?

includes: 3.5k words | SUGGESTIVE | fluff too to balance it out lol | jake being a hot mischievous boy next door | but he’s smart! we love a hot, smart guy who thrives attention for y/n | jake’s hand placements⁉️ | y/n is shy but jake likes that | smooth talker jake yessir | LIP PIERCING JAKE !!

extra: hey bffs i’m back from my own grave 👯‍♀️ i lost motivation for a moment but it’s fine, ill try to post more~ | i’ve watched anne with an e so the language here is kind of similar to that style bc i love that fucking show and it inspired me 🤷‍♀️ | enhypen 🔛🔝 | jake has been so fine lately omfg | jake is a fucking simp!!!

likes, comments, and reposts are very much appreciated <3

[below the cut]

“j-jake-“ you pulled away from his grasp, heaving for air after that short yet everlasting kiss both of you shared secretly.

“you know we can’t be seen together.” as your flushed cheeks were on display in front of him, despise all of it, your mind was full of worries and anxiety of being caught by one of your family members or risking into a more intense situation in your bedroom.

“god, you’re so pretty whenever i look at you.” you scrunched your nose at your boyfriend’s compliment as he had a small smug smirk from your shy, silent reaction. you quickly turned your head towards the door, eyeing the hallway like a hawk to check if there was anyone near by and to your fortune, you can still hear the laughter and voices from the adults downstairs. you felt relieved, sighing softly.

your pondering thoughts became interrupted when you felt jake’s hand slither around your waist and pull you back again closer to him. you gasped, having both of your palms being in placed of his chest. he raised an eyebrow as you were taken aback from his gesture that was normal for him to do.

you were a blushing mess, however jake was smiling like a trickster- not giving a damn about what he’s doing to you, rather amused. you stared at him, observing how obnoxiously handsome he is with his hair being slightly disheveled up from your hands a few seconds ago, his hooded eyes gazing to yours and his lips being stained from your favorite shade of red from forbidden exchange that was yet mutual. the sight was scandalous but breathtaking.

you wanted to stare at him for hours, like a painting from a museum, trying to analyze every beautiful feature that earth has offered.

as the moonlight reflected your bodies from your small window, jake felt a breeze from it. the window’s open a tad bit. he sat down on the little space your window offered for sitting. he admired your wavy locks being swayed by the night air and your crimson cheeks being glowed from the radiance of the moon.

both of you smiled in delight, contented with each other’s presences.

jake. sim jake. adventurous yet devilish. elegant yet charming. sincere yet … complicated to deal with.

as you met the rebellious individual, you had no intentions of befriending jake. you didn’t like his trickster behavior in front of his friends, spreading unhumorous jokes, say the meanest things about teachers and most of all having an egotistical mind that one cannot top.

especially jake, for he is not only annoyingly attractive but naturally intelligent in his studies. maybe that’s why you didn’t entirely hate his guts.

your parents warned you about jake ever since he became not only your new classmate but your new neighbor. how innocent looks can cover their sinful stunts.

the way he showed himself to you at a family dinner at your place, he wore all black clothings including black ripped jeans along with multiple rings on his slim fingers and a lip piercing being proudly displayed on the right side of his face. in spite of it, you were surprised how someone your age can look daunting to look at. it somehow concerned your parents how one can allow their child to have piercings.

you would rather be the opposite. your closet would be filled with soft pastel colors. you have two piercings - the lobes. the ones where you would get at a young age and you never recall as you grow older but yet looking at jake’s, you thrived the curiosity of one.

but somehow, it ease your parents’ tension against him when he became a smooth talker and how he was gonna major engineering in college. you gawked at him, comparing how you were gonna take pre-med in college. just wondering how smart can he be?

and of course, as a shy girl you would always stray away in making new friends as if you wanted to be friends with jake. at a family gathering, you were the first one finished with your meal and went upstairs to do your unfinished homework. as a result, jake’s parents admired you for your hard work and dedication, wishing that their son can do the same instead of partying and socializing. not that there’s something wrong with having an extroverted personality, but something to prioritize with studies.

perhaps you did do it on purpose for the sake of your ego against jake and to maintain a good reputation as a daughter in your family.

unlucky enough, jake caught your act rather quickly. he would always scan you whenever you would converse with someone, how your lovely smile would appear, your glowy brown eyes shining under the gleaming light, how he had noticed you have small dimples on both sides of your cheek if your lips curved, how you scrunch your face when you receive a compliment, and your hair look looking smooth. he wonders what it’s like to touch it with his fingers and smell the scent that your hair obtains. there’s many more observations jake silently took note of.

all of his thoughts are genuine. about you. everything he thought about you are genuine.

he noticed whenever you would quickly glance at him and immediately look down at your plate as if you were scared. you would nibble your bottom lip and fiddle with your fingers on your lap whenever the adults mentioned jake to you.

needlessly to say as he took interest upon your first impression, he wanted you to be on his mind as well. in a way that makes him be stuck in your head for days and let curiosity rise to know him better.

the first step in his plan, to offer you to be his tutor. it surprised his parents, amazed at seeing a drastic change in their son after being in your house for one night. although he might in a higher level than you are, he wanted to find a way to know you better.

the night he was supposed to be partying with his friends, it was with books and you.

it was awkward. you felt awkward. your mind had awkward thoughts. the two of you in your room together in the midday of an autumn day. although your window was closed, your body was cold as you were cuddling yourself with a fluffy blanket of yours while sitting down.

next to you was jake, his uniform was a bit crumpled and his tie loosen up a bit after saying, “hope you don’t mind.” to you.

you noticed how his hair was a bit out of place, having the urge to fix it as the perfectionist you are.

however, despite looking tired from his classes, he seemed curiosity and his eyes would sparkle whenever something in your room caught his eye. like noticing your piano medals spread across in a shelf or picture you’ve kept when you were in art class in second grade pinned in your walls.

“so… what subject are you struggling with?” you were the first to break the awkward silence, eyes glancing at the emptiness of your desk table hoping that it would be filled with a textbook of any subject.

“statistics.” jake replied after, gulping in nervousness to make any wrong move on you. you raised an eyebrow.

“oh!” you straightened yourself in your chair, making your blanket slowly fall down. your shoulders from your cami top were exposed to jake, making him take into admiration of your beauty from your single lamp open.

you looked at jake. “the test scores were given back today right? can i see your test score so i can have an idea in what to teach you?” you smiled at jake as a reassurance message.

jake’s eyes widened a bit, taken aback from your sudden request. you noticed the moment of silence, thinking that jake is embarrassed to show you but jake was thinking of something else. he didn’t except nor imagine this scenario taking place. it was something that might make you mad.

“it’s okay, i’m here to teach you not to make fun of you, you can be honest with me.” you nodded at jake, seeing him zip his back bag open behind him. he scooted his chair closer to you.

now you were taken aback from the sudden gesture that he wasn’t even fazed. his eyes were glued onto his folder but your eyes were glued onto his side profile. under the luminous light, it complimented his features well that you questioned how handsome can this boy get?

“whatever you do, please don’t get mad.” he spoke in a low tone. you distracted yourself with another thoughts, nodding quickly so you wouldn’t get caught doing the unforgiven, staring.

you gawked once he opened his folder, with the numbers written in red marker. a big fat 100 smacks you on the face.

“w-what..” you were in disbelief at what you were saying. you were confused as to why he needed tutoring when he got a perfect score. you studied so hard he night before the exam to get a passing grade of 100, but it only resulted in an 80. even worse, jake’s grade wasn’t curved.

it made you be in a lost of thoughts as you glanced at jake. you noticed how his shoulders crouching down and avoiding eye contact like a guilty kid caught in the act.

maybe he can be your tutor instead which is humiliating to accept.

“you lied?” jake whined mentally at how devastated you sound. he was trying to quickly find a way to defend himself but what would he say instead of, i just wanted to know you better? sounds like a psychopath.

his lips trembled, “i-i .. okay look y/n..” you softened when you said your name with such delicacy and softness that it slowly made you forget being disappointed at him. “i just wanted to know you better, not as a neighbor but perhaps a friend since we will be often seeing each other a lot.. and i couldn’t find a way to approach to you without being weird..”

jake rambled with his words, slowly breathing in a fast pace after his chest was relieved from all of the stress he endured of defending himself. he looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that he disappointed you, that you probably never want to ever see him again and how you will snitch to him to your parents and they will forbid you to ever go near him again. but instead of crying your heart out and running away as he imagined, you instead chuckled. you were amused at his creative idea that you wonder how can he have such an idea like this one?

“you wanted to know me better?” you asked again, appreciating the thought that he wanted to be your friend but in an unusual way.

“yeah..” jake lowered his shoulder, whispering his reply to you. he looked at you chuckling at him.

“we can be friends jake, you didn’t have to do all of this.” you slightly rubbed your eye with your index finger, tired of giggling from jake. “i know.. i guess i was scared that i might look like a weird guy to you.” he embarrassingly scratched the back of his hair with his hand. his hair bounced against his flustered head.

“well you seem weird from the first impression but other than that, you seem harmless.. i hope.” you scrunched your nose unconsciously, making jake’s heart fluttered from the dimples appearing on your face whenever you do it.

the more days spent with jake under the act of “tutoring him”, it was him tutoring you instead since he told you that he enjoyed math and physics.

you thought he was a crazy scientist planning to ban away society from earth but the more time you witnessed him enjoy doing homework, you couldn’t help but think about him from time to time in appreciation that there’s someone who’s sincere as him. effortless and a natural.

during those moments, he did nothing but make you laugh and somehow make your heart flutter from his doings. it influenced your heart to be a mess. moments such as pulling your back bag from behind so there’s less weight and it’s lighter to walk with it while going home together from school, raise your blanket higher whenever it lowered from your body whenever both of you studied, and making your body electrocuted from the constant coincidental touches both of you share unknowingly.

although there would be times where jake pulled out his witty jokes and random comments to gravitate your focus onto him, he never forced anything onto you. he keeps his boundaries on alert and respected your feelings.

for instance, if he tried to make a conversation with you while you were studying and you tell him to be quiet, he would. immediately. he would slide the chair away from you, slightly sulking and try to find ways to occupy his bored self.

playing games on his phone is one thing but another would be exploring your room. jake found your art journal from middle school while snooping your drawers next to your bed.

or that one time he unfortunately came across your polka dot underwear lying freely on the floor when he eagerly and abruptly came upstairs after school as you tried beating him first to your room after screaming that you didn’t clean your room.

yeah that was the first time you yelled at him.

besides that, there would be times where you found jake adorable such as trying not to sleep whenever both of you were alone in one of each other’s room, whining in how a certain teacher sucks at their teaching job, and the crazy story times he experienced in his life. it made you realize how such a human can have so much impact in your life in less than a year?

nevertheless, you had to avoid each other at school to not let any rumours about the two of you knowing each other be spread across. jake completely understood as you didn’t want any drama from occurring in your final year of high school. there would be times where the both of you spared glances and smile at each other, missing each other’s presences deeply.

there was a moment where both of you laid in jake’s bed after studying, taking a small break before you return home for supper.

“y/n i’ve been thinking..” your heart thumped after hearing jake’s deep voice while closing your eyes. you never heard jake with this tone so it felt new and exciting.

you opened your eyes, turning your head to your right to face him as his stare was focused on the ceiling above him.

“i really like being with you. you made me realize how there’s always good in a bad place. and i really want to continue to be with you…” you sharped a breath when his picky was interlocking with yours.

he finally turned at you and for once you were grateful that he didn’t witness how red your cheeks were becoming. you were become a mess at how sparkly his eyes were and beautiful his lips can be. especially with that piercing of his.

this feeling was brand new to you. you’ve never been close to a boy before as you were merely focused in your education. boys weren’t prioritizing your mind.

“do you like being with me too?” jake asked, softly as if you were gonna be broken glass. he was being fragile in case he will do something wrong to you. he spoke with hesitation.

your mind was filled with memories that you spent with him from the past few months and you can’t but wanting to spend more memories with him.

“of course i do jake. every moment i spent with you, i feel free against the world that my parents created from me. you make me feel like it’s okay to step out of the comfort zone.” you smiled against your lips.

jake soon did the same as you continued to stare at each other with silence, having a significant spark in each other’s hearts for the first time.

“can i court you then?” jake’s hand slowly creep to yours, softly grasping it. you looked down, your heart pounding as if it was gonna explode from your rib cage.

god you never felt more in love than before. “i would like that jake..” you sheepishly smiled, letting go of his grasp to hide your shy smile but jake didn’t allow that.

jake slowly took the hand that was covering your beautiful smile, taking his hand with it. you were silent, eyeing his every action as jake kept staring at you.

your fingers were lingering the cold metal against his lips and it made your body shivered.

it was like he was having a different emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t identify but you felt safe when you were with him.

jake pecked your palm and held it against his cheek. he closed his eyes, processing the fact that you’re now his and he’s yours.

and the fact that you have to hide it from your parents for now.

and here you are currently, “a penny for your thoughts pretty girl?” jake swept a strain of hair behind your ear. you shook your head, lowering your head in his neck to hide your flushed cheeks.

you would always do this whenever you were feeling bashful from jake’s bold behavior and he loved it. that he was the only boy that made you be like this.

“it’s just you’re so beautiful when you look like that..” you whispered against his neck. jake raised both of his eyebrows, surprise at the sudden change in your usual personality. the position you were in, where jake was sitting down and you were standing above him.

his legs being comfortably spread out so each of his leg is next to yours it made you be in a pit of nervousness and jake took note of it. jake always love how expressive you are with your own eyes as if it was telling a story if your mouth goes mute upon seeing his figure wherever, whenever.

seeing him below you caused a spark in your heart as his eyes stared at you with devotion and attentiveness. jake noticed how your eyes changed when you kept staring at him with a specific look. a look that makes him even more whipped for you.

“really?” jake’s hands slowly crept towards your hips, lightly massaging it before he pulled you closer to him, causing you stumble lightly and sit on his lap thanks to jake’s strength in holding you still. your legs straddled his each side of his hip.

you looked down, realizing the situation you were in but jake kept holding his signature smirk as he was loving your reaction. he kept staring at you, swallowing the beauty you are in front of him. he didn’t want to get you go, thinking you are a dedicate feather ready to disappear if let go.

“well uhm,” you scoffed lightly, keeping a wide grin to disguise the apprehension from your face. as you were at a loss of words - not having a quick way to reply to jake, he took it as an opportunity to steal a kiss from your soft lips.

the sound echoed in your head, making your heart flutter listening to it. you closed your eyes again when jake stole another one.

you looked at him, filled with fond and passion. the silence aura, it spoke louder than words of how much you two love it each other.

you lightly placed your hand against jake’s resting on your hip comfortably with a small smile on your lips. you rubbed his fingers lightly.

“i love you.” as fragile as you sounded whispering the truth spilled from your lips, your heart never felt any less warmer with any other guy besides your secret boyfriend in front of you.

jake’s other hand, cradled your jaw. his thumb was slowly rubbing your cheek as his thoughts were filled of the words “i love you” multiple times. he swore he was gonna be a psychopath with you.

he didn’t say, but you felt it.

“i love you too my y/n.” both of your lips collided with a deep kiss after jake exchanged his romantic confession to you.

“y/n!” you immediately pulled out of the kiss, mentally whining that it ended too quick due to your mother calling you.

“yes?” you yelled back back as jake didn’t stop kissing you. he continued showcasing his love for you when his lips touched your neck, having little pecks as he was attached from your perfume scent you sprayed on before jake’s parents arrived to your home.

you were squirming on his lap as his lips kept going places on your neck. the sounds of his lips touching your skin made your head be distracted from your mother’s voice.

you tried stopping jake, pushing your palms against his chest to pull him off but jake insisted, grabbing both of your wrists with his one hand. you felt jake’s smirk onto your neck as you felt the tip of his tongue on your hot skin, making you gasp.

“jake’s parents are going home now! please send jake downstairs.” your mother yelled out. you sighed after you replied with okay to her, ignoring your heart trying to escape from your ribcage.

“jake..” you called him before he gets distracted with his desirable thoughts of wanting to continue in kissing you. you ruffled his hair to awake his senses but he has beat you to it.

“what a shame..” he scrunched his nose. “i’ll go now, i’ll definitely miss you.” jake pressed his lips one last time to your cheek before you removed yourself from him to get his things.

jake grabbed his black, round glasses from your table and the flannel he tossed in your bed the moment he entered to your room.

this time, you were observing your boyfriend picking up his possession, especially with the gray sweatpants and a white plain tank top. simple yet still handsome in every way and form. you can’t believe that jake is yours.

before jake left, his hand wrapped around your door knob indicating his hesitation. “hm?” you hummed in confusion when you turned your head to see jake stand still. you were curious of what was holding him back.

“i’ll be at your window in 10 minutes.” jake looked back. his eyes were gazing your figure in your bed. you looked up at him and his heart still flutters just as he first saw you.

you taken aback with this new gesture of his that you didn’t know what to say. “i-ill see you then.” you let out a smile. jake smiled back before quickly heading downstairs. you heard the mixture of his voice and you the adults downstairs as you fell sideways in your bed, making your head bounce on your pillow.

with his mischievous and brave acts with you, you’re certain that one day both of you will be caught but you never objected the idea of doing so.

taglist ; @iraisswiftie @s00buwu

[hivemuthur]

Okay, admittedly I kinda got some brain issues and forgot that Viktor was supposed to be shy in this, so he is not :v But yeh, I'm mish-mashing things again, here's how it went:

Ebb and Flow

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! okay I'm gonna say this once: this has a lot of ass in it. It also has Viktor being pegged, but he is sort of a power bottom and sort of not, I truly do not know who acts as who here. Also rimming and fingering. These are all my sins, for now :v

word count: 4K

author’s note: THANKS Reagan, I had no interest in pegging in my life and now I DO. If you receive anonymous threats it's my boyfriend :') But fr, thank you @a-babe-without-a-name for trusting me and being so brave and making me brave in the process lol. And Anon, uh, what can I say, if you had something cute in mind, sorry for disgracing your request like this. Also I know it's not Freakday yet. That's it, I have nothing to justify this.

—

It’s hard to decide which phase of getting to know someone is the best. The beginning is, of course, exciting—thrilling in its novelty—caught between the pressure of doing your absolute best without overdoing it, and the giddy pleasure of peeling back the layers of someone else, who’s doing exactly the same.

But then, when the dust settles and a few things fall into place, there’s the feeling of mutual agreement—the ever-growing filling each other’s gaps phenomenon, the question of where I end, and you begin quieting the turbulent waters. That’s when the real unpeeling begins.

So when Viktor asked for the first time, you weren’t surprised. It felt akin to pride—or maybe accomplishment—the way the question landed: unabashed, trusting. A noncommittal offer at first, something for you to think about, though it had long been foreshadowed by the press of his ass into your face and the sounds his mouth made, etched in your brain as favourites.

The conjoined open-heart surgery—where you are both the one doing the slicing and the one being sliced open—started long ago. Possibly that one time Viktor’s tongue strayed from your clit, lower, then even lower, and didn’t stop. You gasped, hips stilling. That’s when he said, “Relax. It’s nice, trust me.” Seeing your expression—caught between curiosity and complete bafflement—he added, “Do I have your consent or not?”

And you’re still not sure if it was the eagerness in his eyes or the virtue of his tone that convinced you. But you nodded and shifted, hugging your legs beneath the crease of your knees, and let him in.

Since then, a few more things have been uncovered—scrubbed clean, one layer at a time. For Viktor, it was the revelation that you were willing to go anywhere, as long as he was holding your hand. For you, it was the quiet surprise that he was never opposed to your wandering fingers—one, sometimes two—so long as he could pay you in the currency of startled gasps and broken moans.

Another realisation, more private: having your face hugged by his ass cheeks, your nose breathing in the scent at the base of his spine, your mouth planting soft kisses where his flesh was most tender—that has become one of your most sacred places to dwell. To breathe in those spaces that no one else has wandered into—absolute blessing.

How has this gone from gentle teasing and suggestive purrs to this—you’d lie if you said you hadn’t the faintest idea. Somewhere between Viktor’s breathy touch me and the first time he said, “that feels good,” until it finally became a carefully weaved, “how would you feel about…”—that’s when expectation began to root itself in your mind. Slowly, at first, like a seed pressed into the dark. By now it’s bloomed into something very much alive and kicking.

You’re still in your safe space, for now—on your knees, hands firm on Viktor’s angular hips, thumbs spreading one of the very few soft venues of him open. Your neck aches from the angle, but it’s a dull thing, drowned out by the heat licking at your belly. You hold him there, balanced carefully against the dresser’s edge, and your tongue glides another slow, reverent circle around his entrance.

He twitches, shoulders rippling compulsively every time you hum. One hand braces against the top of the dresser, the other curling back to sink into your hair. He grabs a handful of it, the contrast between wood and softness under his fingers adding to the tension burning through his spine. And oh, he doesn’t mean to, but he pushes you in, unable to help it.

“Mmnh…” Viktor breathes, his hips shifting—subtle, barely-there, but still chasing. “You’re… very good at this.” His voice stumbles over a moan, turned more breath than words. “Do not—don’t stop.”

You hum in response, a sound that makes his thighs tense and one heel lift just slightly off the floor. He’s trembling—such a small gesture you might miss it, if you weren’t pressed this close. You lick again, flatter this time, then push the tip of your tongue in, just a little breach, feeling him shudder and moan, soft and high.

The harness at your hips feels heavy, weighty with promise. The cock attached—a beautiful unfleshed contradiction of confidence and untested nerves—rests against your thigh, forgotten for the moment, though you’re achingly aware of it. And Viktor is too. You can feel it in the way his grip tightens in your hair when your nose brushes the base of his spine. In the way he looks over his shoulder, mouth slack, eyes dark with something hungry and unsure all at once.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, a sliver of laughter in it—tender, breathless. “On your knees for me.”

It’s not mocking. It’s not even cocky. If anything, he sounds… grateful. Awed. Like he’s marvelling at you as much as what you’re doing. And you, flushed and panting and so far gone on him it’s disgraceful, bite the inside of your cheek and let your hands roam up his back, steadying him as he begins to tremble in earnest.

“Relax,” you murmur, a smile positively wicked blooming on your lips. “It’s nice, trust me.”

That earns you a shaky breath, then a choked little chuckle. “You are horrible,” he says, and pushes back into your mouth again. “But do not stop.”

He won’t come from this alone, and you know it. Refusing to ease his untouched cock, you hear it slap against his stomach each time his hips roll into your mouth. And for Viktor—oh, were he guaranteed that this sweet torture would remain endless—he’d probably be ready to forsake the feeling of coming altogether.

You place one last kiss on his entrance—tender, a parting promise—and then slowly rise, hands trailing up the back of his thighs, his hips, his waist. He breathes out shakily and turns to look at your glistening mouth, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his lips already searching for yours.

His arms come to drape around you and the kiss he gives you is slow—unhurried, deep, full of gratitude and something dangerously close to worship. He tastes like breathlessness and want, and when his arms slip around you, he pulls you in until your bodies meet flush. His cock, sticky and blushed, presses insistently against the base of your stomach, nestled next to the firm ridge of yours, and he gasps softly into your mouth as the two rub together.

“Come,” he murmurs, voice low, one hand sliding down to trace the length strapped to your hips. “Bed.”

Before you can tease on how needy he is, Viktor leans into you on the way to the bed, one arm slung around your shoulder, the other braced loosely at your waist, letting his weight drag a little with every step. It’s not weakness—just indulgence. A touch of deliberate drama, maybe. You let him, eating up the way he holds you, like you’re a pillar he trusts not to crumble.

When he sits on the mattress, it’s with a slow exhale, legs parted, back propped on his elbows. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, mouth red and slightly parted, a smear of damp sweat curling the hair at his temples. He’s all flushed skin and brash silence, stretched out like some self-satisfied portrait. His cock rests heavily against his thigh, still slick, twitching slightly as he watches you.

You hum, tilting your head as you drink him in. “You’re so pretty.”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth curling. “It’s my job to tell you this.”

You reach for the nightstand, fingers curling around the bottle of lube. “Well, why don’t you get on with it then?”

But before you can move back between his legs, he seizes your wrist and pulls you in hard, thighs snapping around your hips as he traps you flush against him. His mouth finds yours in a rush—eager, a little desperate—and he moans against your lips as he grinds up into your stomach.

“You are so fucking pretty I cannot bear it,” he mutters, voice hoarse and aching. “My beautiful girl.” His grip is firm and loving, the kind that says stay. The kind that says please. A hand brushes the hair off your face, gentle, reverent, and you are momentarily rendered stupid, unable to remember who’s in charge.

Then your gaze drops, and you remember. You settle between his legs again, kissing the inside of his thigh as you reach for the bottle. The click of the cap sounds almost obscene in the quiet, broken only by Viktor’s breath. You tip a bit into your palm and rub it between your fingers first, letting it warm, your other hand resting over the jut of his hip.

Schooling your face into something resembling composure, you find it hard to stop the insistent twitch of your palm. Heart pounding in your chest, between your ears—the only thing anchoring you is the sound of air leaving and entering Viktor’s mouth.

His mouth cracks into a shaky smile even as his brows knit together, his whole expression a portrait of disbelief and pleasure. “You’re being too gentle,” he says, voice catching. “It’s unfair.”

“Should I be mean?”

He watches you, hand curling slowly around his cock, just enough to stroke himself through the growing ache. “No. But you don’t have to be so delicate.”

When your fingers trace lower, back to where he’s still soft and sensitive, he gasps, his back arching slightly. You take your time, pressing against his entrance. His stomach flexes, sucks inward with every stroke until finally, you ease one finger inside and pause there, letting him breathe as the tight ring of muscle takes you in.

You glance up at him. He already looks wrecked—blushed and damp and trembling, his abdomen fluttering with each breath. “I’m not sure this is allowed,” you murmur, nodding toward the hand working at his cock.

“Would you look at that,” he pants, mouth twitching. “A little bit of power and already bossing me around.”

“I’ve learned from the best,” you reply, pressing in a little deeper. He groans, hips shifting toward your hand. “How was it?” you continue, in a tone that tries its best to sound teasing, though a needy breath trembles somewhere in the back your throat. “You don’t come unless I’m inside you?”

“Something like that,” he grits out. “Except I don’t recall being quite this cruel about it.”

You laugh softly, leaning in to kiss the top of his thigh. “I’m only doing what I was asked for,” you whisper against his skin. “I live to serve, remember?”

Viktor lifts his hands in mock surrender and places them firmly on the sheets beside him, fingers curling into the linen like he’s bracing for impact. His chest rises with a slow, trembling breath.

“See?” he says, voice warm and hoarse. “I am being good.”

“Oh, are you?” you ask, tone laced with false doubt as you twist your wrist slightly. His legs shift wider in response. “You think this earns you something?”

He tilts his head toward you, hair stuck to his temple, a faint sheen of sweat along his collarbone. “I’m going to need more,” he says, low, raw. “You cannot expect me to behave for this little.”

“You’re terrible at bargaining,” you say, but oblige anyway.

Your fingers retreat briefly, only to return with a second joining the first, the stretch making his body tense and then melt all over again. He moans, soft and ragged, thighs twitching around you as he exhales hard through his nose. “Fuck,” he breathes, “that’s—yes. Just like that.”

You keep the pressure steady, curling your fingers just enough to draw out a strangled sound from deep in his throat. He tries to rock down into it, restrained only by the grip he maintains on the sheets, as if letting go would undo him.

“You’re trying not to move,” you murmur, watching him. “Why?”

“I don’t trust myself,” he pants, eyes barely open, lashes damp. “You’ll mock me.”

You smile, slow and wicked. “Probably. Especially if you come just from my fingers.”

“Wouldn’t that ruin your plans?” he manages, the corner of his mouth twitching into something close to a smirk. But it falters a second later as your fingers stroke just the right spot, and he jerks against the bed, cock twitching on his belly.

“Oh no,” you murmur, breath ghosting his hip as you press a kiss just above it. “I’d love to see it.”

“How perverted,” he says hotly, voice straining around the edges. “What if I beg you to touch me?”

“Begging might get you places,” you reply, dragging your fingers just a little deeper, a little slower. “And I’m speaking from experience.”

Viktor huffs, a laugh or a moan—it’s hard to tell. “Would you like to know why that is?”

You nod, slow and silent, unable to say anything else with your breath caught in your throat.

“Come closer,” he says, propping himself back up on his elbows, eyes gleaming with heat. You lean in, bracing your arm beside his ribs as he curls one hand around the back of your neck. He pulls you in until your mouths nearly brush and then tilts his head, lips skimming the shell of your ear.

“Because there is nothing better,” he whispers, “than hearing you beg for something I’m dying to give you.”

Your breath remains trapped, heart thudding so hard you feel it behind your eyes. But before you can say anything, his mouth finds yours.

“It makes me feel seen like nothing else in this world,” he murmurs against your lips. “ So please, my beloved. Fuck me.”

“Viktor.” It’s all you manage, the word falling out of you, completely stunned.

You retreat slowly, fingers easing out with care, slick sounds swallowed by the silence between your breaths. He shudders beneath you, chest lifting as if to follow your hand. A flush climbs up his throat, eyes lidded and glassy.

You reach for the bottle again and squeeze more lube into your palm, warming it between your fingers as before. He watches the movement like it’s sacred. Like you’re sacred.

You coat yourself thoroughly, breath slowing with the weight of focus, slick pooling warm on your hand as you spread it with care. Then, guiding yourself into place, you line up against him. One palm cradles the bone of his hip, grounding you both, while the other steadies at the base, the head of your cock nudging gently at his entrance.

You pause there, just breathing. Just watching him. Viktor’s thighs tense, the muscles fluttering beneath your touch. His eyes are on yours now, wide and bright, mouth parted around the beginnings of a gasp.

And then you press in—the give is slow, tight, perfect. He sucks air in sharply, his head falling back against the pillows, a wrecked sound pulled straight from his lungs.

“Ah—” His voice falters, body taut for a breathless moment. His hand flies to your forearm simply to hold onto something—someone. You freeze there, barely in, overcome by the heat and pressure of him. He’s trembling and you’re trembling with him.

Your chest aches with how much you feel—how much you want to be careful, want to be good, want to do right by the way he’s opening for you like this. The sheer vulnerability of it has you blinking hard, something heavy and electric pooling low in your belly.

“Is it—” you start to ask, but don’t finish.

“I’m okay,” he says, voice tight against the wall of his throat. His thumb strokes your skin. “It’s just—God—give me a second.”

You nod quickly, staying exactly where you are. Letting him adjust. Letting yourself adjust. All cockiness flees you, replaced by something quieter, heavier. It settles low in your gut and swells in your chest—there’s no better word for it than love, and it rings in your ears like a vow.

Viktor draws a breath through his nose—shaky, but deeper now. When he opens his eyes and finds yours again, there’s no hesitation. “More,” he says. “Please.”

So you give him more.

Another inch. Then another. He gasps, knees drawing in slightly, heels digging into the mattress for purchase. His head tips back against the pillows, mouth slack, eyelids fluttering shut. You watch every shift, every flicker, every tremor. You don't look away, not even when he moans—low and guttural and unguarded. It rolls through him, and he presses the heels of his palms hard into his eyes, arms trembling.

“Viktor?” Your voice barely carries. You pause, hand smoothing over his thigh. “Is it too much?”

He shakes his head, breath catching, too overwhelmed for words. You lean over him, close enough to rest your forehead against the damp skin of his temple.

“You have to tell me,” you whisper. “I can’t feel you the way you feel me.”

He exhales shakily, nodding once. Then—still breathless, still reeling—he manages, “Ha—I bet you wish you could.”

You go still, lips parting in soft surprise. Your brow lifts, eyes wide, caught between awe and a laugh.

“I know,” he groans faintly, like he’s already regretting the joke. His voice breaks around it. “I know.” He swallows hard, and when he speaks again, there’s nothing but raw, naked need in his voice. “Don’t stop. I want you.”

You begin to move only when you’re sure—only when his breath steadies, and he nods faintly into your skin. Each shift of your hips is cautious, shallow. His body yields, warm and trembling beneath you, and you’re aware of every inch of him: the way his thighs tighten around you, the curve of his hands along your spine, the flutter of his pulse where your lips brush his neck.

“God,” you whisper, hardly meaning to speak aloud but can’t help yourself, “you are so pretty like this.”

Viktor exhales a long breath, and his hands find your waist, grip seeping whatever he can’t choke out into your skin. His cock is trapped between your bodies, slick and twitching against your stomach with every draw of air, every subtle motion.

His voice finds you in a ragged whisper. “Please,” he says. “Fuck me, baby.”

The words root you in place. Not with boldness, but something softer. You nod slowly, pressing a kiss just below his ear, and begin again—inching, rocking into him with care and wonder. You listen more than you speak. Each sound from him draws your next motion.

“You’re doing so well,” you murmur eventually, when he’s wrung out beneath you, brows drawn tight with the weight of pleasure. “I hope you know that.”

He doesn’t answer with words—only a breath, nearly a sob, pulled from somewhere deep.

Chest to chest, your foreheads nearly touching. It’s not rhythm that drives you now, but reaction—his body guiding yours, his grip flexing on your hips. You shift one hand to his thigh and squeeze gently, and that’s when he speaks again. Quiet. Defeat admitted. “I think it’s time for me to beg for you to touch me, love.”

“What’s stopping you?” you mutter in his ear, taking that little advantage. And Viktor shudders out a laugh, shaky and breathy but earnest all the same.

“Please,” he hums into your neck, “please, touch me.”

You push yourself up, settling on the balls of your heels. Your temporary cock strains at the new angle, and Viktor’s eyes take a stroll around his skull. He reaches out for your hand in a gesture that would have you melting weren’t you melting already—over the sight of him. His knees relaxed apart, lips outright bitten into ruby, hair wild, strands shaped by dampness of your bodies and eyes nearly entirely vacant, you being the only occupant. Absolute vision.

Your fingers thread with his first and you let them rest there a moment, held between you, heart ticking out of rhythm at the way his grip tightens. The need, both quiet and loud, unspoked by his mouth but thundering in his fingertips, seeps into yours. Then, gently, you draw his hand downward, and Viktor follows, trustful as ever.

You guide him to himself, his hand curling around his cock with yours layered over it. Your touch adds warmth, rhythm. He gasps, his hips twitch, thighs trembling on either side of you.

“That’s it,” you whisper, watching the tension ripple up his abdomen. “Just like that. You are doing great.”

His head tips back, neck long and flushed, lips parted in stunned silence. His other hand fists in the sheets beside him, knuckles bone white until red spills over his skin, right beyond the joints.

You lean in to kiss the inside of his thigh, never breaking pace, your strokes patient and steady. Every flicker of his body draws your attention: the way his legs twitch, the way his belly flutters with each breath, the tremble that grows stronger with every pass of your hand over the head. And suddenly you profoundly believe in every praise he’s ever told you because truly having someone like that beneath you is a sight to behold.

Then you shift, subtly, just enough to press deeper inside him—and that pushes him to the edge, where you either break or fall. He arches once, a ragged, punched-out sound spilling from his chest. Your name, maybe, or just a noise—you can’t tell.

“Please,” he says again, and it’s barely a word now, just a breath catching on the edge of a moan. “Please don’t stop.”

Like you would dare. You stroke him faster, cock so hard you’re certain it borders on hurting. His whole body draws taut, thighs shaking, mouth falling open—and you feel it under your hand, under his, the one giving pulse as Viktor comes hard, spilling between your joined hands, over his belly, ribs jutting out, stomach contracting through the aftershocks.

You ease your pace gradually. Let his hand go slack beneath yours. Let him breathe, let his seed cool and turn thin where it drips from your fingers.

Running a hand down the centre of his navel, you carefully pull out and gasp—not knowing why, only that it’s something you’ve seen him do, every time he retreats and leaves you empty.

When his eyes flutter open again, glossed and wide, you’re already there—by his side, nuzzling his face into your neck, your knuckles brushing damp hair off his forehead.

He’s so utterly spent. Worshipped to the point of being boneless. For a moment, all bravado is lost somewhere between shuddery breaths. Despite the wet evidence of your shared perversion dripping down his stomach, he presses it to yours and kisses your throat with his mouth open, each breath warm against your skin.

“What is it that you usually say?” he mutters, the smile already curling under the words. His tone is teasing, but there’s a layer of exhaustion that makes it softer, naked.

“Thank you,” he says, lips brushing against the curve of your jaw. “Thank you,” he repeats quieter, this time next to your ear, his breath warm and shaky, still trying to catch up with the aftermath.

You laugh softly, pulling his hair back. “Did you like it?” You ask, again—same as he always asks. Not missing a beat.

“Eh, it was alright,” he replies, his lips curling up as he pulls back to look at you, eyes gleaming, but the way his features softened is giving him away.

“I see.” You smile, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his once more. You’d swat his chest, but somehow don’t have it in you. “No way of fucking that attitude out of you, huh?”

He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “I can’t say,” he murmurs. “Maybe you have to try again.”

One layer less, you think to yourself. So many more parting you from the core of him—and some part of you doesn’t want to get there. The journey, after all, being the best part of it.

[moonlight-prose]

this prompt with husband tommy miller because i know damn well that man writes love letters, i just KNOW it "I tried to burn the letters, the memories, but the fire wouldn’t take them! It’s like the universe won’t let me forget you!"

an old owl calling

a/n: the speed at which i wrote this request shocked me honestly. i haven't had this much inspo for tommy since s1 came out. but us watching the first episode together and barking over how good this man looks is sparking the creativity again. also i'm just a massive sucker for angst and he called for it immediately. i genuinely can't even explain how much i missed him, but hopefully this does that for me.

summary: memories were bullets you could never dig out from a body that had seen too much. flashes of when you were happy together, moments in time you ached to return to. loving tommy was easier than breathing - letting him go took everything you had. he only wished he could say the same.

word count: 3.8k+

pairing: tommy miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, gratuitous prose for the angst (i'm back to my roots), heartbreak, blood + wounds as an allegory for love, past relationship, arguments, tw addiction, ptsd, mutual pining, they're a bit toxic ngl, second chance romance, confessions, idiots in love.

Snow packed under your boots as you trudged forward, a rile slung over one shoulder and a pistol at your side older than you ever thought you’d get to be. Hard to believe three years ago you dug it out of a garage that might as well have belonged to a grandfather. Maybe it did—what with the records piled in disintegrating cardboard boxes, and photo albums housing reminiscent black and white photos of a time where there was no one left.

No person to tell the stories, no one to even remember them.

You supposed that was the way of things now. Memories held weight—too much of it to carry. The significance of time you’d never get back, people who you knew to be dead back in a place you tried to wipe from your memory. Alcohol helped. Pills subdued the grief, the agony of remembering. But their faces took up space in your mind, spreading like a tumor along an already weary amygdala.

“Good morning.” The pleasantry tasted false on the tip of your tongue. Lies you told yourself to appease the ache in your throat; if you ignored the pain it might go away.

Joel’s grim expression never failed to spill comfort into your chest—your own version of old reliable. “Good would be less snow on the ground.”

“Then just a plain morning,” you dryly shot back, glee itching at your heart with the peek of his grin. “Do I have watch today?”

“Not today.” He groaned with the effort of standing too quick, his knees popping subtly. A sound overshadowed by the heavy thump of his boots. “List says you’re out on a patrol nearby. Just to check for any strays that might show up with the cold weather comin’ in.”

“Sounds easy enough. Who’s the partner?” You could feel the regret echo in your stomach, pulling sharp at old wounds you never bothered to stitch up.

“Tommy.”

One day in the near future the mere echo of his name off someone else’s tongue wouldn’t violently split you open. The curve of each letter, the scribble of his own hand writing on that fucking paper beside yours, might be just another person in the long run. Hoping for it felt like a sin, yet ripping him out of your life altogether echoed with a salvation you weren’t strong enough to give yourself.

You tried not to gasp in anguish, but Joel—ever the perceptive man—caught how your face twitched. The shake of your hand, blunt and ripped fingernails buried in the calloused skin of your palm.

Memories were a bitch to hold onto; each one shining with their own brutality. His smile, the feel of lips along the column of your neck, the touch of hands gripping your thighs. He echoed with sentimental domesticity that would never be. A man who allowed his promises to fray at the end of their already thin rope, having forgotten that you were clutching the other end with sore fingers and a hoarse cry for help.

“You don’t have to go,” Joel offered.

A quick fix to an already lethal disease.

“Yes I do,” you replied, blunt and void of what you struggled to swallow down. “It’s what I was assigned. I’ll keep to that schedule.”

“I’m just sayin’ if you wanted somethin’ else-”

“When have you ever known me to run from responsibilities?” The pen held little ink left, the signature of your past scribbled and faded beside Tommy’s. “Let him know I’ll be by the stables.”

“I just…” Joel coughed, thumbing the edge of his jacket. “You should know this. Even if he’d hate me for admitting it. But Tommy requested you.”

Your brows furrowed; the little anger you held onto shuffling to the back of your mind. “Is that even allowed?”

“What can I say he’s got pull with the right people.”

“And he used it for this?”

Joel huffed, scrubbing at the side of his face. “He didn’t use it for just this darlin’. He used it for you.”

“Yeah right-”

“But you knew that already.” He saw through your false need for stability and dug into hot flesh and pulsing veins—determined to find that one singular wound which hurt the most. “I don’t need to know all of it. What my brother does is up to him, but you’re both hurt and this town is too small to pretend he doesn’t exist.”

How could you tell Joel it was easier to forget the existence of someone so hazardous to your already brittle soul? Tommy didn’t remain a man at the end of it all. He existed as the arrow already embedded in your heel, the knife that turned sharp and jagged in an already fragile heart.

No matter how you tried—burying volatile emotions in a grave that reached the core of your being—you couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.

One way or another you’d claw your way back to him, dragging along the dirt and filth to feel the warmth of his smile against your skin.

But to accept that would crack open a part of your heart you weren’t ready to confront yet. Satisfied to float in the oblivious bliss of being a heartbroken hollow shell of who Tommy once loved.

You last saw him a week ago in passing. He was engrossed in a conversation with the town’s council, the lines beneath his eyes dark and apparent, his face paler than you were used to seeing. Passing it off as the cold air—winter making itself known with the hastening snow storm—you did what you could to rip out the feelings of guilt that rose to the surface.

He wasn’t sleeping, this much you knew. Not when he once stumbled into your bed, exhausted and broken from yet another day of fixing what continued to break. He’d find his spot beside you, hands entwined in yours against the steady thump of your chest, face buried in the back of your neck. Healing always came easier when he woke up to the sight of your eyes—the curl of a sleep addled smile pressed against his chapped ones.

The papers stuffed in your coat pocket burned your skin. Familiar scrawls of a handwriting you could picture with your eyes closed, his words carved with ink to haunt you at the end of it all. He wrote three of them—one for each year he loved you.

Paragraphs of the emotions he’d never admit out loud. Pleas and apologies to forgive how he pushed you away, rambling promises that depicted a better man. Someone you could take back with open arms and a delicate heart.

The fictional idealized version of himself he longed to become.

You bundled them up wherever you went. Toying with the thin strand of twine he used to wrap the papers together. A soft touch—the thread entangled and twisted with a love you couldn’t forget.

You didn’t bother to wait for Tommy to arrive at the stables, swinging your leg up and over Comet. His black coat was a stark contrast to the first snowfall of the season. His hooves already packed with white fluff as he trotted out towards the familiar pathway through town—the sway and dip of each shift a comfort you could lose yourself in, your fingers tight around the reigns and knees tapping slightly to quicken the pace.

Tommy would catch up.

“You’re meant to have a partner before heading out.”

The frigid air burned your lungs with each breath. “I’m capable of handling myself out there.”

“Doesn’t matter Soot.”

“We’re resorting to name calling?”

Jimmy scoffed. “Last I checked I wasn’t the master of lighting fires.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The echo of hooves on the ground should have alerted you. The hair on the back of your neck rose fast enough to give you whiplash at the sound of his voice. Just a small shout of hello and yet your insides were turning over, heart squeezed with the strength of his fist as it curled around the helpless organ. He smiled at Jimmy, coming to a stop at your side—the horse’s chuffed breath forming a cloud in the air. As if offering his own greeting to the people who knew him best.

“You plannin’ on taking off without me?” he asked, finally turning his head to meet your gaze.

Eyes you looked into more times than your own burned a hole in the center of your chest. The hue of brown sparked with something dangerous. An understanding that this was more than just a patrol. This was Tommy finally pinning you down, getting you in a space where you couldn’t avoid his words.

The confrontation you never allowed to happen was down the snow covered pathway; you longed to crawl back into your house and cower beneath the covers.

“You took too long,” you snapped, clicking your tongue to kick Comet into gear.

“And waitin’ was too much work?”

He followed close behind just out of sight. A part of you felt grateful for the small convenience of taking the lead, but you could feel his stare burning a hole in the back of your head. No matter how much you tried to run from it this was bound to happen eventually.

What were you to do when your souls were bound long before tragedy struck the world? When you knew him as a younger man—his face free of lines and hair still short enough to fall along his forehead in curls.

“You’re the one who set this up. I just did my job and showed up.”

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“Like what? Patrolling? Then why did you pick it-”

“What you’re doin’!” Clicking loud enough to ricochet off the trees, he caught up to your side. “I don’t like you talkin’ to me like I’m a fuckin’ stranger.”

You sighed, leading Comet down the path lined with hoof prints. “How else am I supposed to talk to you Miller? We’re…”

“A hell of a lot more than strangers.”

“Yeah. You can say that.” Stubbornness is what kept you alive. The instinct to dig your heels in and wait it out was how you found your way to Jackson, surviving alone all those years before Tommy came across you. Half dead, buried beneath snow, and yet still the whisper of your name from his lips sent you careening back to life.

“Fuck this shit,” he muttered, flicking the reigns until you were cut off—Comet reeling back with a displeased sound you felt in the base of your throat. “Talk to me Soot. Yell at me. Call me a fuckin’ bastard for pushing you away. Curse my existence and spit at me, but please stop treatin’ me like I don’t exist.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Tommy.”

The break in his anger, the pain in his eyes, filled you with a sick satisfaction you loathed the second it entered your heart. You didn’t want to hurt him. Not like he hurt you. You were just trying to survive.

“We can walk it from here,” you said, dropping to the ground and slinging Comet’s reigns around an old post hammered into the dirt.

He followed in quick succession, matching your stride as he yanked out the gun attached to his hip—always on edge when it came to protecting you. The anger was palpable, thick enough to slice through as it hung over your shoulders like an ashen colored storm cloud waiting to drown you both. You stewed in what flared to life at the base of your stomach. The rage of a fight never had lingered, peeking its head out no matter how hard you tried to rid yourself of what remained.

The love would always exist. A passion you couldn’t bring yourself to release. You knew that was why you came here today—expecting a fight with bared teeth and growled curse words that would make even Joel blush.

An inevitable explosion of all you were to one another. A ticking time bomb, counting down faster than either of you expected.

“I know what I did was fucked up,” he began, the truth flowing with ease past a mouth you dreamed of at night. “You think I wouldn’t have written those letters if I didn’t know? You deserved a better man than I ever could be, but I wanna be that man baby.”

Your teeth sunk into any part of your cheek hard enough to make you wince. “Let’s just get this over with okay?”

“No. We’re gonna have it out. Right here.”

“We’re in the middle of the woods Tommy. Stop pulling this shit would you? This isn’t the time for your games-”

“Well I wouldn’t have had to pull a move like this if you would acknowledge my damn existence in town.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The stoic expression threw him off guard, his eyes narrowing with the challenge of splitting you right down to the marrow of who he knew. Someone he longed to recognize.

He scoffed, meeting your bullheaded response with horns of his own. “You don’t know what I’m talkin’ about huh? Well forgive me Soot if I call fuckin’ bullshit.”

“Tommy-”

“You’re lying right to my face thinkin’ I won’t see it. But you forget I know you. I know you better than anyone in town ever wished they could.” Your first mistake was leading him to familiar ground—the hard headed version of you that kept him on edge twenty years ago, intent on getting what you wanted. “Better than any of those old men who practically lick their fuckin’ lips at the sight of you.”

The words struck you—caving in a small opening he pried open with his hands until blood ran down his knuckles. He was keeping tabs on you in the two months you were separated. Watching how certain men in the town nearly cheered at the knowledge you were single again. Jealousy ran deep in Tommy’s veins—a trait you learned to love and accept. But this was different.

This held an edge he no longer walked with the trepidation of a man scared to lose you.

He didn’t give a shit about the consequences when he was living them. Tommy reaped what he sowed and sunk his teeth into the end result—a flare of covetousness surging back into an older version of himself. He never liked when you had lovers in the past, always greedy for what they’d never get. Your friendship, your shining attention.

But to see it turned on himself left you gasping for breath. Lust wrapped tight and hot around the base of your spine, sparking feelings that never went away.

“You think I never saw the way they looked at you? I know what I had—what I lost. So you’re gonna stand there and talk to me. I know you probably didn’t read those letters, but that isn’t stoppin’ me from telling it to your face that I’m sorry. That I would take everything back in a heartbeat.”

“Tommy…don’t-”

“And yes I pulled every string available to get you here. Yes I’m a selfish bastard who probably doesn’t deserve your attention anymore. But I need you to hear me-”

“Shut up!”

He straightened, his jaw clamping shut at the roar of your voice echoing off the trees. His words overwhelmed you, dragged you into a place you barely escaped from a month ago. Pain laced each breath you took. But that wasn’t what had your temper flaring, bringing to life the person who fought for everything they had. Someone who learned that life didn’t offer good things unless you were willing to fight tooth and nail for it.

“What the fuck are you smiling at?” you growled, watching his lips curve into a crooked grin.

“There you are,” he murmured. “I thought I lost you.”

The fighter he knew still resided just below the surface of your cold front. The person who dragged themselves through hell to get here, seeking a place of comfort after years of torture. You did it without help. You managed without him. And yet you no longer had to, you didn’t want to; the lack of his warmth evident in how numb you felt, how your heart barely fluttered anymore.

Tommy Miller didn’t save you, but he sure as hell was determined to protect the parts you kept alive.

“I read the letters,” you hoarsely admitted, ripping the band aid off without hesitation.

“I know you did.” He sighed, his breath forming in the air and obstructing him from view. “I know why you won’t talk about ‘em.”

“That’s not it.” Sucking in a breath felt like needles puncturing the crumbling remnants of a person who deserved love. You know you did. So why couldn’t you accept it when it came crawling back? “I just… I wanted…”

His solemn nod sliced off another piece of you, dropping it to the ground without a care in the world. “To forget me.”

“You’re so…” Hot tears collided with your frozen skin, the words thick like molasses in the back of your throat. “You were everything to me Tommy. And when you gave up on what we had-”

“I didn’t give up. I’d never do that.”

“You left me!” you shouted, voice cracked and chest heaving for air that wouldn’t come. A match that refused to ignite, striking haplessly against whatever it could reach. “You walked out when all I wanted was to know this version of you. Every part.”

Stumbling towards you he reached out, brown eyes muddled by wounds he tried to hide—grief he couldn’t weigh on your shoulders. He could barely carry it on his own. You knew the man he was before kissing him, long before you dragged him into that bed and let him between your thighs. Horrors trailed after him in a red streak of what he did, the torture he caused, the deaths tainting his hands.

But you still let him touch you. With red stains and all you allowed him to grip your body like a lifeline, mouth meshed with his as tears trailed past your temples.

You loved him in spite of the darkness.

“I wrote it down for you,” he said, eyes cast to the forest—on guard in more ways than one. “I put it all in those letters. All the bad shit I’ve done, all the people I killed. I laid it all out for you to see. But if you want to forget me-”

Throwing your hands up, you no longer tried to stifle the tears—the anguish he should see play out on an already exhausted face. "I tried to burn the letters, the memories, but the fire wouldn’t take them! It’s like the universe won’t let me forget you!"

“Baby…”

Your sobs echoed off an empty forest blanketed by picturesque scenery—such an opposition for the cracking of your heart you were certain he could hear. “I couldn’t start a fire to throw them in Tommy. I couldn’t… I don’t want to forget you. Why would I? When I still love you.”

Silence filled the air, the forest taking over for the words left unsaid. You could hear an owl calling in the distance, the rustle of a rabbit in the bushes as it ripped what leaves still remained to pieces. The forest thrived in the absence of humanity. You could see how it ignored the anger, the frustration that fell a part on the floor.

The forest didn’t need you.

Not the way Tommy did.

The shock dissipated as you stood there heaving in gasping breaths, fighting back whimpering pleas for him to say something—to not let the final piece of you break and land in the snow. He surged towards you, gloved hand gripping the back of your neck to yank your face close, his still chapped lips finding your frozen ones with ease. And for the first time in two months you could breathe.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your open mouth, tongue delving into a space he longed to taste again. “Can’t fuckin’ survive without you baby.”

You didn’t bother responding, slinging an arm around his neck to drag him even closer. His kiss burned you, the match finally striking with perfect ease to light that roaring fire. Loving him came quick, overtaking who you once were in order to build someone new. Someone he could cherish and keep safe at the end of the world.

His grip dropped to your hips, pulling you close enough to feel through the layers of coats and sweaters. Later you might laugh at how careless you were so out in the open. A story told over whiskey, the tipsy relief of contentment fueling teasing words and touches that strayed far past appropriate.

Tucking his hands into your back pockets, he ran his nose along the side of your still frozen cheek—lips curled into a smile you mimicked. “I liked writin’ you those letters.”

“Yeah?” you sighed, catching his lips softly.

“Mhm.”

“Write me some more.”

He chuckled, cupping the side of your neck, thumb running along the fluttering vein. “I can do that.”

“I hope you know… I really missed you.” Breathing the words against his cheek, you felt his hold tighten—as if terrified to let you go after all that happened.

“Me too,” he whispered, pressing his face into your neck, breathing the scent of your cold skin. “It nearly killed me bein’ away from you.”

“Then stay.”

His head shot up, clear eyes catching yours. “I’m never leavin’ you again honey. Till the day I fuckin’ die I’ll be by your side.”

Heat bloomed beneath your cheeks, eyes shining with unshed tears. “That might be sooner than later if we’re out here any longer.”

That familiar bright smile brought back the feeling in your chest—heart fluttering in time with his. “Then let’s head home yeah?”

Home. A word uttered in the darkness of long days and weary limbs begging for reprieve in the comfort of a squeaky old mattress. It sounded jarring coming from him with ease. As if he’d been longing for your shared space, where love could flourish and a future solidified with each day spent within the walls of an old house.

The space had seen people before you, it might see others after you, but for this brief time on this planet it was yours.

“Okay,” you replied softly, reverence dripping from the word. “Let’s go home.”

[sakusaswifee]

“𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒”

𓆩༒︎𓆪 BRAZIL + OIKAWA & HINATA

Warnings: This story contains explicit sexual content including a consensual threesome between Oikawa, Hinata, and a female reader. Themes include mutual desire, shared teasing, light dominance, oral sex (f. receiving), praise, voyeurism, fingering, and soft dom/sub dynamics, emotional comfort, trust, and playful chemistry between all participants.

MINORS DNI, 18+ content ahead

No part 2

𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪

Brazilian nights were something else—humid, electric, and soaked in the kind of heat that made your skin feel too tight and your clothes too clingy. But it wasn’t the weather that made your blood run hot tonight. It was them.

Oikawa Tooru..cocky, golden-skinned, with that sinful smirk and glittering mischief in his eyes. And Hinata Shoyo..sunlight incarnate, all soft gasps and explosive energy, his laughter a melody you’d started to crave more than air. You never meant to get this close to either of them. One volleyball match turned to two, turned into sunset smoothies and teasing jabs that always lasted a little too long. The three of you were inseparable now, always gravitating back to each other like planets locked in gravity.

So how did it come to this?

The small, open windowed apartment buzzed with leftover music from a beach party. Your thighs still sticky with sweat, mouth tasting faintly of rum. Oikawa was sprawled across the couch like he owned it, his fingers lazily tracing the hem of your shorts, eyes half lidded as he watched Hinata kneel between your legs on the floor, blushing furiously, but his hands bold as sin.

“This is unfair,” Hinata murmured breathlessly, looking up at you like you were some kind of sacred offering. “You’re too pretty.”

You were about to respond when Oikawa’s lips grazed your neck, voice like dark velvet. “Mmm then help me worship her properly, Shoyo.”

And just like that, the teasing turned into touches. Tongues. Whimpers swallowed between them as they shared you, together. Heated palms against your skin, soft kisses trailing from collarbone to hip, until you didn’t know whose mouth was where, only that you were trembling and breathless and adored.

They weren’t rivals anymore.

They were your devotees.

Their hands were everywhere.

Hinata’s palms were warm against your thighs, spreading them slowly, reverently, as if he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you like this. His lips were parted, breath shallow, cheeks flushed the most beautiful shade of red as he kissed down your inner thigh..soft, hesitant at first, until he heard the way your breath hitched. That was all the encouragement he needed.

“You’re so wet already,” he whispered, almost in awe. “Is it..is it ’cause of me? Or Oikawa?”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer.

Oikawa leaned in close from behind, his hands sliding up under your shirt to cup your breasts, fingers teasing your nipples through the lace of your bra as he nipped your ear. “She’s dripping because we’re here, Shoyo” he purred. “Look at her. Our pretty girl can’t take her eyes off you.”

You gasped as his thumb rolled just right, back arching into his chest. Hinata, emboldened, lowered his mouth to you, tongue flicking out, hesitant and shy at first..until he found the rhythm that made you cry out and clutch his hair.

Oikawa grinned against your neck, rocking his hips subtly against your ass, letting you feel how hard he was through his shorts. “You feel that, baby?” he groaned. “That’s what you do to us. You’re the reason we’re so fuckin’ desperate right now.”

The room was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and arousal mixing with the faint ocean breeze coming through the window. Hinata’s tongue moved faster now, more confident, while Oikawa’s fingers slipped beneath your waistband, sliding down to tease you in tandem. One boy worshipping from below, the other whispering filth into your ear like you were the only religion he believed in.

Your legs were shaking. Your mind hazy.

And you hadn’t even taken off your clothes yet.

“Gonna fall apart on us already?” Oikawa teased, though his voice was breathless, his fingers gliding over your clit in slow, teasing circles as Hinata’s tongue never stopped working you over, hungrier by the second. “Thought you were gonna last longer, sweetheart. But look at you..trembling like this and we haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, nails digging into your own palms, hips caught in that maddening rhythm between them both. Your body burned, heat coiling tighter in your belly, pushed closer and closer with every flick of Hinata’s tongue and every filthy whisper from Oikawa.

Hinata looked up from between your thighs, lips shiny, face flushed. “Can I…? Please, I wanna be inside her..” he murmured, breath hot against your skin. “I’ve wanted to feel her since that night we all danced…”

Oikawa chuckled darkly, nipping your neck one more time before letting go of your breasts. “Then come here, Shoyo. Let’s make her feel everything.”

You barely registered the way your clothes were tugged down, how eager hands stripped you bare. Hinata kissed up your stomach as he settled between your legs, his cock hard, flushed, and twitching as he lined himself up..gently, carefully, like he was afraid of hurting you.

But the moment he slid in?

You both moaned.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he whimpered, burying himself deeper, gripping your hips as his eyes fluttered shut. “So warm, so soft, I—”

Oikawa was behind you again in seconds, lifting your leg, spreading you wider, his own cock pressed against your ass as he bent close. “Don’t be shy, baby,” he murmured, kissing your jaw. “Let him fuck you. Let me watch you come undone for both of us.”

And then Hinata started moving—slow at first, gentle, rocking into you like he wanted to memorize the shape of your body from the inside. But that tension was building again, that fire rising fast, especially when Oikawa’s fingers found your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles.

It was overwhelming.

Too much.

And not enough.

“Look at you,” Oikawa growled, voice thick with need. “Look how fucking beautiful you are like this..between us, shaking, moaning, ours.”

Your back arched. Your body clenched. And then..

You broke.

With a loud cry, your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body convulsing as Hinata gasped, hips stuttering, chasing his own release as he groaned your name like a prayer.

But it wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Oikawa’s voice was low, sinful in your ear. “Good girl,” he purred. “Now it’s my turn.”

𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪 𓆩༒︎𓆪

[lottiecrabie]

hiii You know who this is can i please please please have cyosa mutual masturbation i lost so hard every time but once and you know you love meeeee 😇😇😇😇

this is for you🫵you know who you are. I love you🫶

‘matty…’ you moan, half as a beg and half as a mindless need. he chuckles, opening your thighs for him, putting you on display. you’re so ready you might take him right now. 

matty’s hand still dances on your thigh, working higher and higher. your breath hitches, anticipating the fateful meeting. he whispers, smirking, ‘how about you show me how you do it?’

your cheeks flame at the idea. you clench your thighs, trapping him in place, embarrassed. he doesn’t seem too bothered. he revels in prying them open again, grazing the ready skin until you’re squirming.

‘why would i when you’re right here?’ as if to convince him, you reach for his leftover hand, dragging it to a pert breast. he chuckles. his finger rolls the nipple and you sigh, still holding onto his wrist.

‘i want to see,’ he says. ‘i want to learn.’ you groan, half from pleasure and half from shyness. you hide in your shoulder, arching your back into his hand in contradiction. again, a laugh falls from him. ‘how about i show you too?’

your eyes snap to him, suddenly interested. he kneels up, towering over your parting frame. his hand makes quick work of his belt— quicker than your hungry, shaking ones could have done. he draws his cock out without any hesitation, holding it at the base. your breath dies in your throat. you freeze under him.

‘i’m already hard,’ matty says. ‘don’t even have to think about you cause you’re already laying there like a fucking daydream.’

you grin, spreading your legs further, giving him a show. a tortured groan rasps out his throat. ‘fuck, love, you’re gorgeous.’ he strokes himself once, swiping his thumb over the tip. you lick your lips, though you do not feel the need to reach out and do it yourself. you want to relish in the spectacle.

you get him, now. he knows this. says, ‘show me.’

you don’t feel as shy. your hand grabs his own, puppeteering him so he pinches and rolls your peaked nipples just right. a broken moan comes out of you. in turn, he strokes faster.

‘i don’t like the before,’ you choke out. ‘i’d rather just get to it.’ it’s all the warning you give him before you plunge your hand between your folds, circling your clit.

‘shit,’ matty cries. ‘you’re not real.’ you hum, pinching the skin of his wrist mischievously, reveling in his little yelp. ‘what do you think about?’

you shrug, non-committed. ‘i like my mind blank.’ matty tsks and shakes his head. you almost want to laugh, but your fingers hit a sinful spot and you’re too busy whining out.

‘you’re doing it wrong,’ he breathes. his hand is still hard at work on himself. he needs to frown in concentration to get his thought out. ‘the before, the imagination— that’s what it’s all about. you won’t get a mind-blowing orgasm if you don’t involve your mind.’

‘do it, then,’ you whimper. ‘mindblow me.’

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. ‘i didn’t expect you to be lazy.’ the challenge works and you set your eyes, competitiveness bubbling in your chest. vengefully, you dip two fingers inside, watching as he slows his rhythm in quiet wonder.

you thrust in and out, angling your fingers until your legs twitch mindlessly. your nails dig into his skin, and it’s not even to send any kind of message. he’s wrong about the mind. you masturbate to get you off— off that tyrannical ride your head leads ruthlessly. this, the hot euphoria beating in your veins, the quiet moans, the shivering limbs, is what it’s about.

‘i’ll tell you, then,’ matty says. he seems close, pumping his cock fast and certain. his chest rises and falls, the tattooed planes of his stomach in perfect display. you want to spread a hand over it, want to descend down and replace his hand, want to— you thumb your clit and stop wanting.

‘i think about you, all pretty and hot and needy. never this perfect, though. god, you’re really not real— like a fucking frosted cupcake, all sweet for me.’ the words fizzle up your chest. pleasure strikes through you, doubly so, and you cry his name in sheer shock.

matty continues, ‘i think about you in the library, bending you over until i erase that little worried frown you have. make you suck my fingers so you keep quiet still. don’t want to get banned— still need you to ride my cock on those big chairs after all.’

‘oh, god,’ you whine. you rub your clit furiously, eyes rolling back, seemingly astral projected to the library. your lips part in quiet worship. ‘more,’ you beg him.

matty pinches your nipple, forcing you to look at him. ‘your turn.’

you pant, trying to use your brain when your fingers are deep and quick inside of you, when he’s hanging off with that swoopy hair over his forehead and those dark, hungry eyes. you’re drunk on the mere sight of him, and you start fearing how he’ll affect you when he’s the one thrusting inside you.

‘i—‘ your legs kick, helpless. ‘sometimes when we watched movies, i’d think about you eating me out on the couch.’

matty groans, scrunching his eyes like he’s imagining it. ‘yeah? what’d i do?’

‘just— you’d kneel in front of me, and you’d tell me to pay attention, and then you’d do it. devour me like you were starved. shush me when i got too loud, remind me to watch my smart, pretentious film.’

another broken cry slips out of him. he falls over you, though still holding himself up with an arm. your now free hand spread over his ribs, back, anything your greediness can find. both your fingers work in tandem between your bodies, a quiet union you’ve just now noticed. you roll your head, hit his wrist. ‘matty…’

‘i thought about you asking me to fuck you before,’ matty admits offhandedly, lost in his pleasure. your fingers press into his working shoulder, mean. ‘fuck, i almost believed i was imagining when you really did ask me. figured i was going crazy.’

you twist your head, kissing his wrist over and over, tiny presses of love you don’t dare say. your tongue sticks out and licks it all up before it stays and means something. ‘again,’ you moan, feeling yourself get closer. your hips rise for your strained digits. your body hums in warning.

‘i want to come on your stomach. want to mark your skin— god, need it. need to see you all pretty with my cum, make you all messy. show you’re mine.’

‘matty,’ you scream, pumping your fingers just right.

’need to see you come, too. break apart so you’re not so perfect. my pristine, pretty girl, drooling for me, screaming my name, working those little fingers…’

‘fuck—‘

‘you’re doing so well for me,’ he promises. his hand has lost any sense of regular rhythm, pumping with desperate abandon instead. ‘just like i though,’ he says, full of wonder. he seems so gone you’d figure he’s all in his head, but matty stares at you like he could lick up the frost off the cupcake. ‘of course you’d listen. of course you’d do just i say.’

‘fuck, i need—‘ it’s on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t get to say, a shattering orgasm taking you instead.

you open your jaw and dig your teeth in matty’s wrist, biting down the yells as waves of pure ecstasy shake through you. your head, never quite unattached before, blanks with the force of pleasure. you say his name, you think. or maybe not. in the end, you don’t think at all, and it is glorious.

matty’s close after you, screaming out your name shamelessly. the ropes of white cum hit your stomach and he draws out his last trembles before he falls atop you with a sigh.

your head’s all fuzzy as you lay there. ‘oh,’ you finally say once you regain speech. you trace a finger over his back, staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. oh, this is what it’s supposed to be.

‘yeah,’ matty murmurs in your hair. because he understands, of course he does. your lungs feel full and heavy.

he finally rises and you catch a glance to the mess between your two bodies. the cum is painted over both of your stomach. though matty doesn’t even bother wiping it off before he smirks, kissing down your sternum. his eyes flash up at you, full of mischief. ‘so you want me to eat you out, huh?’

[violetasteracademic]

Chapter 12: Without Ever Touching His Skin

Summary:

How can I be guilty as sin?

Warnings: Shadow penetration, mutual masturbation, rough sex kink, explicit sexual content

Read the chapter here on AO3

Need to catch up? Find the chapter list here.

Preview:

Elain's mind tangled as Azriel stood still as a statue, staring at her. What did he want from her?

Why wasn't he leaving?

Why wasn't he moving closer?

She straightened her spine, refusing to feel any more guilt or shame. Azriel was an adult. Mother above, Azriel was centuries older than her. She did not seduce him into her room against his will. He barged in. And if he wanted to leave, he could leave. She was not chaining him. She was not keeping him here. He had interrupted her, and it was his responsibility to walk out the door if he didn't want to be there while she finished.

Like a woman possessed, she let her legs slowly fall open.

Azriel's eyes widened in alarm. "What are you doing?"

Elain flushed, but held firm. "What are you doing still standing there? You're the one who just appeared in my room, Azriel."

He could winnow out whenever he wanted. Whatever he decided to do, she would wake up in the morning and refuse to hold this burden any longer. She was not pushing him. She was not making demands. She just wanted relief from the unbearable ache pulsing between her thighs.

Azriel nearly dropped to his knees. "I can't," he choked out, running his fingers roughly through his hair. "I can't touch you. I promised, Elain."

There was enough genuine pain in his voice that Elain halted.

His eyes were still on her, dark and wrecked. And she couldn't help but feel a prick in her heart at the agony pulsing off his massive frame in waves.

His words echoed through her mind. I can’t touch you.

This wasn't about whether or not he wanted to touch her. He had promised he wouldn't. He looked sick to death when he broke that promise before. A second time might well and truly kill him.

She felt like a rabbit caught in a snare. Perhaps she was the worst sort of fool for it, but she didn't want him to leave. It seemed that he didn't want to, either. She felt insane for thinking it, but perhaps after everything that happened that day, they needed to give themselves a break for not wanting to be alone. And Azriel… perhaps needed a new chance to keep his promise.

"So don't touch me, Azriel," she nearly whispered, voice quivering. "But I don't want you to leave."

"Elain—" he growled.

"Stay," she breathed. "Stay with me. And touch yourself."

The silence hung in the air, nearly suffocating as Elain waited for Azriel to respond. She'd settle for a blink, or even for him to recoil in disgust or anger. But he had gone so still, so vacant, she wondered if she had broken him.

It was unbearable, but she would not cower. She would not take it back. Azriel was still in her room, eyes on her body like he wanted to see her like this. Like he didn't want to leave.

She'd extended her offer. He could stay or go.

She shifted slightly, not quite so brave as to keep her legs spread open while he decided what he wanted.

That seemed to wake him up. He took a few steps closer, his breath sawing through his chest. "You are going to kill me, Elain."

Her eyes went wide. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Azriel continued, "We don't touch each other." It was both a statement and a question. His brows furrowed as if he were trying to arrange the pieces of a puzzle in his mind. He nodded slowly. "We don't touch each other," he said again, this time more firmly.

Elain's skin began to grow hot once again. "That's right," she replied. "Only ourselves."

She couldn't help but bite her lip as Azriel's hand drifted towards his hard length and began stroking himself over his pants.

"Alright," he said, eyes settling on her. "I'll stay."

*Fam, sorry for this late night random drop. I am honestly too anxious about this weeks election in the states to mentally fathom dropping an unhinged smut chapter next week without any idea of where we will be at as a country.

I truly hope you enjoy this early release if you are still awake! I also have put this into the notes of the chapter, but I am pausing on having a set posting schedule. I have come into this fandom trying to be consistent and reliable with my posting, but at this time I have too many projects to balance (in good news, I have some surprises I am insanely excited for coming up) and I have been encouraged by many of my friends and readers to not put so much pressure on myself and focus on maintaining quality of work and not burning out. So thank you for your support!

Stay kind out there this week. And stay strong.

[shadowkoo]

disgraceful dreams - teaser

→ Summary: After two years of lustful pining and disgraceful dreams about someone far out of your reach, you decide the only way to move past your hopeless crush on Onyx Academy's star student is by taking part in the Lupercalia festival for the very first time.

↠ wooyoung x f.reader (feat. yeosang) | teaser wc: 491 (16.4k~ total) | 18+ ↠ genre: witch/warlock au, smut, virgin!reader, inspired by s2e3 of caos, slowburn

→ Full Fic Warnings: little bit of social class discrimination, cult-ish behavior (mentions of blood, Y/N uses a knife to cut her hand for binding/ritual purposes), being ‘hunted’ like prey, explicit sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names, praise kink, biting, nipple play, breast play, begging, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, partial agoraphilia & semi-public sex, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, deep dicking, size kink (wooyoung is HUNGGG), magical sex, fucking up against a tree, slight age gap (y/n is 20 and wooyoung is 25), slight corruption, choking, possessive!wooyoung, woo is ravenous for you (you’re welcome)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @pirateeznet @cromernet

@illusionnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @cultofdionysusnet

→ Release Date: 10/31/24

↠ want to be notified when this is posted? join my taglist here!

Under the safety of your blankets, you move quietly, as if any sudden movement could betray your secret. One hand begins to massage your breasts through your thin tank top, the other sliding down toward your pink panties.

Taking a deep breath, you open your legs, allowing your fingers to slip beneath the dampening fabric. After spreading your juices around, you rub your clit before slowly dipping your first finger into your slick entrance. The sensation is unfamiliar—neither bad nor uncomfortable, just something you're not used to. The pain of the stretch lingers, leaving a strange warmth that you can't quite place.

You close your eyes and pretend that Wooyoung is there with you. Swiftly, you begin to curl your fingers, simultaneously bucking into your hand. You picture him hovering over you, but the image clouds over, shifting into a different scene that becomes sharper.

Wooyoung is also in bed, with his hand wrapped around his exposed, thick cock, lazily pumping it. There’s something unsettlingly vivid about this image, as if it’s not just a product of your imagination. It feels real—too real. Gasping, you realize that he’s in your head, projecting himself, revealing his presence in a way that makes your heart race.

Then, as if he can sense that you've finally caught on to his wicked scheme, a dark smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your body’s temperature spike. “Are you touching yourself, like I asked you to?”

You suck in a sharp breath and nod instinctively, even though you know he can’t physically see you. But somehow, you sense that he knows.

“I bet you are,” he hums, closing his eyes while running his thumb over his pink head. He tosses his head back as he strokes himself, “I bet that tight little virgin cunt of yours needs some good stretching before she’s ready for me.”

Feeling the heat rising to the tips of your ears, they’re red from the weight of his words, like they’re wrapping themselves around you, pulling you deeper into his influence. The knot in your lower belly grows as you match your little finger thrusts to the speed of his hand pumps.

“Add another finger, honey, I know you can,” Wooyoung groans, his hand moving a little faster. “Look at how my cock aches to be sunk inside your sweet folds.”

You do as he commands. You’re panting at this point; completely zeroed in on his throbbing length while you climb towards bliss. The silent room fills with a sinful pattern of squelches from each thrust into your lush heat, and a divine sensation washes over you.

“Goddess, I’m about to make a mess,” he whines, a sound that you’ll never be able to forget. He stills, letting out another beautiful noise while his seed shoots out across his abs, some even on his dark silk sheets.

“That’s just a preview,” he grins devilishly, “Sleep well, Y/N.”

→ Taglist: @gyupremacy @yoonguurt @starsrens (join my taglist here!)

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[mattsundaes]

RECIPROCAL SIN

♡ — levi ackerman x f!reader

It's inappropriate, this unspoken arrangement between yourself and Captain Levi. And yet as the polarity between right and wrong begins to disintegrate under his steady, burning, gaze, you can’t quite bring yourself to care.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.5k

prompt — lactation kink, mutual masturbation

additional content — smut, infidelity, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, handjob, pregnant reader

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

This is wrong, and you know it.

Despite the fact that you’ve never so much as even kissed Levi Ackerman, let alone actually touched him in such a way, you’re well aware with every fiber of your being that it’s wrong. 

You knew it was wrong from the start, back when you’d avert your gaze from the silver band left discarded on your night table, turning instead to face Levi from where he stood leaning against the wall across the room. 

It was a silent agreement born out of the Scout Regiment captain furiously bursting into your home unannounced in search of your husband late one evening, the lock on the front door splintering uselessly beneath the unforgiving force of his boot. He had a bone to pick with the Garrison captain, one that had him stomping through the house, unaware that the object of his irritation was off on business in another district. 

With the loud rush of water pouring into the bath drowning everything else out, you had no idea you weren’t alone in the house until Levi brusquely pushed the bathroom door open with no regard for potentially cornering the captain in a state of undress. But instead, he found you with your head tossed back against the lip of the porcelain tub, water still rushing from the faucet, lips parted for your breathy little moans as you spread your legs beneath the rising soapy water and began to relieve the maddening heat between your thighs with your fingers.

Not one to beat around the bush, Levi had cleared his throat, standing there in the middle of the room looking down at you with his arms crossed. While tension was still visible in the set of his shoulders, his expression was otherwise unreadable. 

You had served alongside Levi as a team leader amongst the Scouts for several years—years full of lingering glances, mixed signals, and so much unresolved tension, you had been choking on it. 

Frustration had eventually found you in the bed of Matteo, a Garrison captain who had taken a liking to you—much to Levi’s displeasure. One thing led to another, and within a few months, you were married. Your pregnancy came shortly thereafter, at which point you were discharged from the Survey Corps for the sake of your health.

Levi hadn’t spoken to you since the day you packed up your office at the base, offering you nothing more than one last sweep of his penetrating gaze as he muttered, “Good luck.”

Despite the months of silence, as he stood there—boots a stark contrast against the white marble adorning the bathroom floor—it became abundantly clear the unspoken thing that always hung heavily in the air between you had yet to dissipate. Far from it.

“I take it he’s not here,” he had ventured.

Sinking slightly lower into the soapy water, you turned off the faucet with your foot.

“He’s not.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account then,” he’d said mildly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, thighs clenching together with the achingly traitorous throb of arousal that coursed through you at being caught in the act.

Caught by him.

Without letting yourself second guess what you were about to do, you’d slipped two fingers back into the heat between your thighs, his steady eye contact making your heart pound heavily in your chest as you fingered yourself with Levi as your silently captivated audience. 

And so, somehow, it became a habit—Levi would quietly slip away from the barracks when your husband wasn’t home, offering you no pleasantries nor conversation, just his rapt attention as you touched yourself for him. Sometimes in the bath, occasionally when you were curled up on the sofa downstairs, once in the kitchen. But mostly in your room, legs spread wide on carnal display as the other side of your mattress remained cold and empty, your ring finger left bare.  

He never said much, and neither of you ever outright acknowledged what you were doing. As if the silence stifled the truth behind the pangs of lust and want that constantly simmered deep in your abdomen, day in and day out. 

After you found him frustratedly palming the obvious erection tented at the front of his pants one evening, clearly unable to wait to take care of things in private, you’d begged him to touch himself, too. You came harder on your own fingers than you ever had on any man’s cock that night, fingering yourself to the sight of Captain Levi fucking Ackerman slumped down on the floor in your room, biting his fist and cursing as he furiously stroked his flushed, leaking shaft. 

You quelled the budding guilt in your chest by reminding yourself again and again that you weren’t even touching him, the two of you were simply pleasuring yourselves in the same room. And if the slick arousal between your legs soon turned into a gushing flood whenever you were an observer to the sight of the Captain fucking his fist, well, that was a secret best kept between you and your fingers alone. 

At one point or another, Levi began to migrate from the wall across the room to a chair beside your bed. And this is how you find him now, his muscled thighs spread wide as he rocks his hips upward into the firm grip of his fist while you moan and writhe atop the mattress.

It’s wrong, how badly you want him. How much you want to climb into his lap in that chair, to sink down onto his fat cock and ride him until he fills you with every last drop of his seed. How often you fantasize about leaving Matteo, especially the nights he comes home late from patrols with alcohol lingering on his breath and the suspicious, cloying stench of perfume clinging to the collar of his jacket. 

But the growing roundness of your belly is a constant reminder of just how complicated your situation is, with no easy break in sight.

“Look at me,” Levi’s voice is rough as he pulls you from your thoughts.

Despite the fact that the two of you never actually touch, the intimacy of this depraved ritual makes you tremble—Levi’s jacket left strewn across the back of the chair. His shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned, a tantalizing sliver of his chest left exposed. Black strands of hair strewn haphazardly across his face, lips parted and slick with saliva. Pupils blown wide with lust. Knuckles white as he tightly grips his cock. 

To see him undone like this makes you weak.

Reckless.

You’ve never felt quite so seen as you do under his steely gray gaze, the nearly imperceptible reactions that tug at his stern facial features with every little whimper and moan that leaves your lips.

“What’s…” Levi suddenly blurts out before he trails off, voice pitched in an odd tone.

Glancing down, you quickly realize what he’s referring to, taking in the sight of the two wet stains that have formed on the front of your nightgown. Your breasts have begun to produce milk recently, sometimes leaking at inopportune times, though this is the first it’s happened during one of Levi’s visits.

“I’m sorr—“ you try to apologize, embarrassed.

But Levi cuts you off with a loud, gruff moan, eyes glued to the dampness hugging your breasts as he swiftly catches the thick ropes of cum spurting from his cock with the washcloth that had been folded neatly over his thigh.

You begin to notice a pattern after that—Levi’s eyes will often stray to your chest as the two of you touch yourselves, lingering for a moment. And the nights when he finds your nightgown damp with the milk leaking from your nipples beneath, you swear you can feel the tension in the air go taut as a bowstring before it quickly snaps, sending him over the edge with a climax that has the feet of his wooden chair groaning backward across the floor. 

–

Maybe it was the way Matteo left this morning, hardly a look in your direction as he shrugged on his jacket and made his way out the door.

Or maybe it was the way Levi arrived, unable to keep the curve out of his lips when he uncharacteristically tucked a small yellow flower behind your ear.

Regardless, something’s left you feeling emboldened tonight when Levi settles down in the chair beside the bed, freeing his waiting erection from the confines of his pants. Bold enough to cross an invisible line you know doesn’t even exist anymore, not really.

Your tits ache relentlessly as of late, swollen and heavy with milk, and you’ve been leaking far more often. So when you feel your nightgown already growing damp when you’ve only just begun to toy with your slit, you’re not surprised. But rather than let the cotton stick to your chest, you don’t hesitate to pull down the thin straps instead, allowing your tits to spill out.

Levi’s answering harsh intake of air is audible, and you can’t say you don’t take pleasure in having truly caught him off guard for once. When you turn to face him after a beat, the look on his face makes your head spin, eyes dark with heady, unabashed desire. 

And maybe it’s wrong.

Maybe it's always been wrong.

But right now, you don’t care.

All you care about is the way his entire body tenses when you bring one hand up to your breast and squeeze, letting milk spray out. He looks utterly transfixed, so you use both hands to fondle your tits, letting the milk freely leak everywhere as he grips the chair with one hand while pumping his dick with the other. The wood groans, threatening to splinter.

Nobody’s ever looked at you the way Levi is now—like he wants to consume you.

Like he’d cut down a thousand Titans just to close the gap between the chair and the mattress.

Like he doesn’t give a shit if this is wrong, either.

And it’s that which loosens your lips to say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for weeks, since the first night your wet shirt sent him careening over the edge.

“Do you want a taste?”

The shredded, frayed threads holding together the last of Levi’s self-control snap, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor the only warning before he’s pressed against the side of the bed, taking one of your breasts into his scorching hot mouth. You gasp at the sensation, back arching into his touch as Levi sucks at one of your tits while squeezing the other, letting the milk freely dribble down his hand. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pulling back so he can lick broad, firm strokes across both of your tits with his tongue, lapping up every sticky, wet smear of milk. 

When he’s cleaned up the mess—temporarily—he pauses, glancing up at you with a wild look in his eyes, milk dripping from his full lips.

“Levi,” you whimper, unable to stop yourself from tangling your fingers in his hair.

A grunt of pleasure leaves his lips when you tug, and he lets you pull his face back into your chest. A fresh gush of arousal leaks from your cunt at the feeling of his teeth grazing your sensitive nipples, callused fingertips kneading the soft skin of your breasts as he greedily drinks from you.

“Don’t stop,” you keen, spreading your thighs and pulling up the hem of your nightgown as your fingers seek out your pulsing cunt. 

“Couldn’t if I tried,” he exhales, breathing hard, his hair entirely askew, cheeks and chin entirely soaked with your milk.

With both of his hands occupied, the bed frame groans as he ruts against it, flushed cock smearing precum along the edge of your sheets. 

“Need more,” you plead, because there’s no turning back now.

Levi doesn’t hesitate to oblige you, continuing to milk your swollen tits with his lips and left hand as his right snakes between your legs, batting your own hand away to slip two dexterous fingers into the slick, velvety walls of your pussy.

You both moan at the intrusion, and his lips brush against your achingly hard nipples as he murmurs, “Are you always this wet?” Another finger joins the first two, stretching you open even further. “For me?”

“Yes,” you exhale, rocking your hips into his touch.

And then his mouth comes crashing into yours, lips slotting together like he’s been studying the shape of them for days.

Months.

Years.

Levi’s kiss is every bit as hungry, greedy, and all-consuming as you’ve always imagined, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your mouth with the subtlety of a wildfire as you tug him up beside you onto the bed.  He’s confident and precise, like he already knows each button to push, every little way to have you gasping and moaning into his mouth. 

And when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, thumb playing with your swollen clit as he crooks his fingers in your soaked channel, you come without warning, keening and shaking as he strokes you through the aftershocks of searing pleasure exploding inside of you. 

You reach for Levi as you come down from the haze of your climax, an unapologetic groan spilling from his lips when your fingers wrap about this throbbing cock. With your other hand, you tug him by the hair back down to your breasts. He’s quick to take the hint, lips suckling at your leaking tits once more as you stroke him

An idea suddenly occurs to you, and your mouth quirks upward with a smirk that he can’t see as you let go of his dick to palm at one of your breasts instead. You bring your attention back to his shaft a moment later, satisfaction curling in your gut at the downright depraved moan that you pull from him as you coat his length with the fresh milk now dripping from your palm. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts, hips jerking into your lubricated touch.

“I made a mess, so I think it’s only fair if you do, too, Levi,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his hair as he squeezes a spray of milk from your breast and lets it coat his lips and tongue.

Continuing to stroke him, the rhythm with which he jerks his hips upward soon turns to an uncoordinated stutter, and the way he continues to mouth at your breasts grows sloppy, his entire body tensing up.

“Come all over me.”

And that’s all it takes to send him over the edge, his body swiftly shifting upward and positioning his cock to dump rope after rope of thick, hot cum all over your milk-soaked tits. You whimper, cunt clenching around nothing at the filthy sight.

“Tch. What a fucking mess,” he murmurs as he leans in, not giving you time to respond before closing his plush lips back over one of your tender, leaking nipples.

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[nouearth]

a summer phase.

jason carver x male reader.

summary: jason keeps telling himself that it's just a phase, yet it's become a weekly routine to spend the evening with you.

wc: 1.5k. warnings: explicit smut, kinda angst, handjob (r!giving, jason!giving), lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, closeted!jason, hurt!reader, internalized homophobia.

A gentle breeze blew in from the open window and the wind chimes gently sang from the floor below, joining two spirits that had been sharing warm pants with one another, evoking moans from another. The golden evening had settled in the background and silhouetted the writhing bodies into dark shadows. Droplets of sweat had caught onto the glimpse of fading sun, allowing Jason to memorize the detail of your body before dusk conquered his room.

The muscles that tensed when he squeezed harder around your cock, the squirms that caused the creaking of his bed when he fondled your balls, the gulps that failed to bury moans when he leaned in and kissed at your throat; you followed Jason’s lead into dusk, mirroring his actions to his own cock as he worshipped you and your presence until you were his prayer, his promise, to the kingdom of heaven.

“I’m close…” You panted into the open-mouthed kiss, legs tangled into his as both of your bodies reflected off of each other, sitting straight. Your thighs had sat sticky on his muscular pair and you can feel him tense when your rhythm quickens, your fist tightening to press the pulsing veins into his sprouted cock.

“Me too…” Jason sputtered, leaning his forehead against yours and placed a tightening hold on the back of your neck to hold you close. He held the languidness of your gaze past the heaviness of his own lids, and a terrible guilt he crept up on him because he was terribly enraptured by the effect he had on you, by the effect you had on him. He’d seen you in this state so often, even the darkness couldn’t have hidden the explosion of stars in your eyes.

It was wrong.

He pulled you forward to explore the inside of your mouth, stroking your cock at a pace you couldn’t have possibly kept up with. His tongue mined for a taste of you. Moans unfurled when the fruity cereal that you both had shared earlier spread onto his wet flesh and Jason kept exploring, kissing, moaning, tasting, until he captured the sound of your rapture and swallowed it in heavy pride, pushing down the thoughts that had been condemning him for his sins.

Your hips buckled, releasing your fist around Jason’s cock, and you came undone in several thick ropes. “Fuck—“ Your chest rose and your stomach sank as Jason’s strokes aided every second of the unimaginable pleasure, drawing you out until you were empty before him. The cum splattered onto his broad chest, dripped heavily down his toned stomach, and he reused the warm seed that gathered on his fist to lube his own cock and fuck into his fist after.

“Open your mouth—“ He rose onto his knees, breath hitching and chest rising, while there was enough light in the room for you to carefully maneuver yourself under Jason’s legs. You leaned back onto your elbows, legs sprawled, and pushed your tongue out once you tilted your head back. Droplets of your own cum dripped from his lubed erection and onto your face from the quick, yet clumsy rhythm of his strokes, but you didn’t feel stained until he neared his cock closer to your face. The strong muscles in his thighs kept him balanced on the bed and your pants began to quicken again, joining him in anticipation of his arrival to a delirious state of mind, and welcoming him with an open mouth once he comes. “Baby, I’m going to—“

Before he could finish his warning, your cheek was hit with a heavy splat, then your forehead, then on your hair, and then the centre of your face. “Fuck, Jason—“ For a basketball player, his aim was horrible, and you couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle as you kept your head tilted back, providing him a canvas for him to paint white on. You took all of the remaining thick cum in pride, replacing his hand with yours to stroke him through the shower Jason had continue to cover your face and body with.

The cum sat thick and heavy on your skin, and you basked yourself in the weight of it, sighing when you flattened yourself on the bed. Jason joined you seconds after grabbing a spare towel off his chair, groaning by your side when his sheets pressed uncomfortably wet onto his back. Doting wipes pressed to your face, then your body as he cleansed you with a gentleness that could soothe you to sleep. Though, you were only kept awake because of Jason. His lips attached to yours quickly after, and you kissed back languidly, tracing the curl of his smile with sweet chaste. He pulled away sighing and shared one last gaze that rendered every meaning of ‘beautiful’ useless until you perfectly defined it with the reserve of your smile.

There was a silence after. It thickened the sudden tension in the air, and even though the night had blinded you, you could see the parting of Jason’s lips when you turned your head to face him when he joined you by your side. The dim light from the window had highlighted the contemplative look on his face, and your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. 

You already knew what he was about to tell you. The regret in the tremor of his voice was profound, even with the slightest croak, and you immediately turned your head the other way when you felt your eyes sting.

“I-uh… I’ll get going now.” It was a routine at this point. You and him did stuff, and he apologetically shooed you out before anyone could see him with someone like you. Even if his parents wouldn’t be home for another month, the act of liking another man ignited a guilt that boiled his feelings alive. Whether they would die off or come back stronger, he’d do his best to bury them deep enough to convince him that it was a phase.

It was wrong. And it was a phase.

All a phase.

You cleared your throat to soften the swelling feeling in your chest and rolled off his bed to change back into your clothes. Coughs and ruffles of clothes covered the sound of your sniffles. He watched you in silence, guilt-ridden as your back turned towards him, and he clutched at the bed sheet to ground him from succumbing to further transgression. The frail of your back looked cold enough to reflect ice into his own hands if he was to touch you. Even when your shirt draped over it, he’d imagine the goosebumps on your body to prick him like icicles, and—so bad, he wanted to hug you even if it meant that he’d be pricked by a hundred million ice spikes. 

“I’ll drive you home…“ He surrendered, stepping out of the bed, and into his briefs and shorts.

“I can walk.” You scanned the floor for the other half of your socks, finding them near the corner of the room.

“It’s dark out, (M/N).” Jason pulled his t-shirt on and neared close, reasoning. “Besides, you live twenty minutes away—walking distance.” 

It was a desperate attempt to spend more time with you, even though it was his own guilt and pride that pushed you away. During school, it was Jason that ignored your very existence. Surrounded by adoring classmates and friends with a reputation to uphold, it was easy to. A selfish part of you wished he struggled to contain his feelings when you were within his vicinity. Instead, when your gaze met his, he looked past you as if he’d never seen the light of your eyes, as if he didn’t worship the warm sheen that resided in them nights prior. 

“It’s fine.” You layered your backpack over your shoulder, gaze casted downwards as you kicked your shoes on despite Jason’s attempt to steal a glimpse of your face. “People are going to see us.”

“I doubt anyone’s going to be out at this time now—“ You wished he would’ve said that he didn’t care about being caught. He followed you downstairs, the blades of icicles growing sharper with every step you took. “Slow down!”

“I’ll see you in class.” Your chest swelled again knowing that he’d rather choose not to, but you assured of that matter with a smile. His hand naturally reached out to take your hand, another attempt to stall you for a little while longer.

“Please? Let’s talk—“ Overcome by despair, he held your hand tight, letting the roughness of his palm linger on your own despite every second counting against his morals. Jason squeezed, intertwining his fingers into yours to lock you in place. “I-I think we can—“

But your fingers yanked back at the hook of his fingers, and you reluctantly pulled your arm back to your side. Silence fell, and the sound of Jason’s gulp swayed you back around before trudging out of his home and closing the door shut behind you.

“(M/N)!”

The warmth from your hand remained on Jason’s hand as he watched you march into the night, flexing his fingers at every lingering spark, yet you continued to be the despair of him.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: Mutual Masturbation w/ Neighbor!Bucky Barnes

a/n: sometimes i surprise myself with the shit that i write and i'm just like wow... that shit really came out of my brain?!?! this one kind of gave me a run for my money but i did it and now i'm going to hide under a rock! See ya!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

You knew he was watching, and you knew that he knew. Why would you leave the curtains of your room open if you didn't?

The fact that he was probably touching himself to the sight of you made you want to put on a performance for him. 

You acted oblivious at first, innocently climbing onto your bed and settling your back against the headboard. Your eyes were locked on your phone as you scrolled to your favorite twitter porn account. You bit your lip at the sight of the erotic videos, your hand slipping underneath the hem of your shorts and panties where the tips of your fingers met your damp slit.

You teasingly stroked yourself, eyes trained on the woman getting fucked from behind, her ass jiggling hypnotizingly shaking from the man's rough thrusts. Your stomach twisted in excitement, the giddy feeling only growing as you had begun to stimulate your clit. You forced yourself to stop, and nervously raised your eyes to the window that faced yours. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Bucky seated in a chair that looked out of place from the room he was in. It was obvious that he moved it in there with the intent of watching you. The lights around him were dim, but you could still see him; his eyes were narrowed, and his cock was in his hand, slowly stroking himself. 

You kept eye contact with him as you dragged the clothes off of your lower body, revealing your plush thighs, soft stomach, and glistening pussy. 

You could have sworn you saw him take an intake of breath, his chest rising momentarily before deflating. 

Spreading your legs, you continued to touch yourself, the pads of your fingers pressing down on your clit and moving and slow circle motions. Your hips jolted at the pleasurable feeling, a breathy moan slipping between your lips.

You had completely forgotten about the porn playing on your phone. If you were going to be honest, you imagined that the people having sex in the video were Bucky and you.

You'd had a crush on your dilfy neighbor ever since you moved in. Even though the two of you live in two separate buildings, your meeting had been a complete accident. Ever since that fateful day where your eyes met, something clicked, and every single meeting from then on was premeditated.

Tonight was the night where you went far. Sure, you'd walked in front of your window in just your towel when you saw that his curtains were open, sometimes even allowing him to catch you in your bra and underwear. Though you appeared to be shy whenever he'd "catch" you, you knew exactly what you were doing, and you knew that he knew too.

"Bucky…" You whimpered, emphasizing his name on your lips so he could read them. His jaw tightened and the pace in which he was stroking his cock grew faster.

"Finger yourself." You saw his lips read, and your skin flushed, but nonetheless you obliged, stopping your slow rubbing to sink two fingers into yourself.

Your lips parted almost pornographically. Your free hand shot up to grip at your shirt covered breasts, teasing your nipple through the thin material of the cloth. 

"Fuck!" You swore in pleasure, your fingers curving to caress your g-spot. Your legs twitched at the tingles that shot up your spine. That familiar coil of overstimulation twisted in your gut, coaxing you, and with Bucky touching himself, you were drowning in temptation, in sin.

This was not what you had expected when you decided to move, but God— if it wasn't a good idea.

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