#smut fix

[ravenempress101]

Coldhearted • J Yunho

Genre: smut •WC• 2.7k

Pairing: bodyguard! Yunho x mafia!princess reader x mentions of San

synopsis: being a mafia princess is hard, while your bodyguard is cold but so sexy at the same time.

Warnings☢️: dom yunho, bodyguard yunho, implified big dick yunho,unprotected (use protection), creampie, praise, dark intercourse, overstimulation

“I can’t believe he sent yunho of all people to babysit me”whispering to yourself, heels clicking over to your fathers office.

The frustration boiled your blood it’s was almost suffocating. Your slender fingers on the door knob of your fathers office and barge in. Your dad sits at his desk, his orbs from the important documents up to your existence before he stands up.

You know you’re supposed to knock, your father scolds, walking over to you and his fingers on your shoulders.

As your eyes rolled and a sigh fell upon “I’m twenty-two daddy, you can stop treating me like a child”

“Never” your fathers protest. I’ll always worry for your safety.

Crossing your arms over your chest. “I know daddy but I can take care of myself ain’t it weird just a man…”

Y/n glancing at Yunho board frame and his expression toward her felt cold.y/n carried on. “wearing a suit following me everywhere I go a little bit to much”

A sigh came from your father, him sitting in his chair and crossing his hands. “It’s a dangerous world out there, and yunho will make sure you stay out of harms way”

Scrunching up her nose at yunho in distaste. Then yunho rolls his eyes at your childish antics. Yunho was your fathers right hand man and his most ruthless enforcer.

You’ve never been a fan of his, especially after he almost hit you with a stray bullet from one of the mob heists going wrong a couple of years ago.

“I’m going to be twenty-three soon, I can take care of myself daddy” arguing your case.

“Honey everyone doesn’t see you as just my daughter. They see you as my weakness, and I can’t risk anything happening to you” dad replies strongly

Y/n shakes her head from disapproval. He always gets what he wants, no matter how much you prove to him your grown.y/n’s dad is the most ruthless mob bosses in busan, so it’s not shocking how stubborn and demanding he is.

“Heck fine” you spat. “Yunho can watch me”

Y/n refuses to use babysit from a grown stand point. As y/n’s fathers smiles embracing you for a hug “I only want you to be safe, darling”

Y/n’s rolls her eyes and then yunho meets her gaze, her tongue escapes her mouth in a childish way. He scrunches up his face back to you.

Then her heels click out of the office and his footsteps follow behind you.his eyes are piercing and cold falling upon your frame. Y/n knew he was always watching her.

He smirks from behind “you’re such a brat” he comments

Y/n feel her face grow warm in anger at his words. Who does he think he is calling you a brat? He’s only two years older than your brother, San, and he calls you a brat.

She stomped off from him. He’s so annoying. Yunho was the last person you wanted to babysit yourself.

It’s been a few weeks since your father decided to have yunho babysit you. He has been everywhere you go; staying in a room that your father made for him. Y/n couldn’t get rid of him no matter what you do. Her father even called her brother San to help keep an eye on yourself.

Y/n got dressed for her shift at the cafe. Working as a barista and today is your last day because you’re moving to Seoul. A business opportunity is waiting for you down there and your father has a apartment ready aswell. Yunho is traveling with you, and the thought makes you feel so annoyed

She captured her purse and walked out of the room. Walking over to the kitchen, your mother and San are having coffee. Yunho leaning against the counter typing on his screen of his phone, his gaze up at yourself

“You ready?” Yunho standing straight up

She nods, capturing the keys to the car “let’s get going” y/n said while waking out of the house

Yunho steps follow behind you, and once you reach your car, he holds the door open for you.

“You don’t have to do that,” you protesting y/n sitting down in the car.

Yunho smirks. “I was just being polite.”

Y/n sighs, then He walks over to the driver’s side, and once he’s inside, you start driving.

Y/n worked with yunho around and it annoys you. He sits at the counter and watches you work. It’s not busy, so you walk over to him. You wipe the counter with a wet cloth, and yunho stares up at you.

Do you mind if I get started on the homework I was assigned?” you ask.

“Go ahead I’m right here if you need help with anything,” yunho says as he types something on his phone.

You smile. “Thank you.”

grabbing your book bag and sit on the other end of the counter. You pull out your notebook and textbook. Yunho looks over at you, and you notice.

Smirking at him before turning your attention back to your homework.

A couple of hours pass before it starts to get busy. Quickly cleaning up your books and walk around, taking people’s orders. Yunho scans at y/n as she works and every-time meeting his gaze a wink is sent your way. She blushes and looks away.y/n hates that he effects her so much. She wishes he hated him because he’s so arrogant. You have to remind yourself that he’s older and off-limits. He’s your father’s right-hand man, and there’s no way he would ever be interested in someone like you.

The hours pass by quickly, and you’re getting ready to leave. Waving goodbyes to your coworkers and walk to your car with yunho following you. Y/n drive back home and notice how quiet it is. You park your car and look at yunho. He looks tired, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him vulnerable. You decide to break the silence.

“Thank you for coming with me to work today,” you say, looking at him.

Yunho looks at you with a surprised expression. “You’re welcome it’s my job,” he replies.

A smile creeps on yourself and get out of the car. getting inside the house to see your mother cooking dinner and San helping her.

Strutting over to them. “Anything I can help with?” you ask.

“Go get ready for dinner,” your mother replies as she cuts the vegetables.

Making your way to the room and changing out of your work clothes. Once you’re ready, y/n walk downstairs and into the dining room. You take a seat next to yunho and across from San.

Your mom brings out the food, and y/n captures the fork and dig in. Dinner is quiet except for the occasional conversation San has with yunho.

Once you finish dinner, you help your mom clean up and walk up to your room.

Y/n showering and getting ready for bed. You put on your pajamas and climb into bed. It’s late, and you have an early day tomorrow, but you can’t sleep. Grasping your phone and start scrolling through social media. Her brown ones start to drift off when you hear your phone vibrate. Scanning at the screen and see a text from yunho.

Yunho: can I come in?

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a few seconds later, there’s a knock. slowly getting out of bed and walk to your door. She was hesitate for a second before you open it.

Yunho stands there with his hands shoved in his pockets. He smirks at you before walking in and closing the door behind him.

Y/n stand in the middle of your room, unsure why he’s here.

“Yunho, why are you in my room?” you ask, looking at him with wide orbs.

Yunho walks over to your bed and sits on the edge. He looks up at you, and his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t stop the heat spreading on your cheeks as you look at how handsome he is.

He smirks before standing up and walking over to you. looking up at him, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s so close to you; you can smell his cologne.

“What do you want?” you softly spoke, your orbs scanning both his eyes.

He smirks down at you before his slender pointer finger and thumb enclose on your throat and pushing you up against the wall. Your heart is beating rapidly, and you can barely breathe. His grip on your throat is firm, and he squeezes lightly, making you moan.

He leans in close to your ear, his hot breath tickling it. “I heard you talking to your brother earlier today,” he whispers, and yoir frame shivers at his deep voice.

“W-what did you hear?” you stutter out, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“I heard you call me hot,” he says, smirking at your heartshapes

Your mouth dropped from what he spoke to you, remembering what you said to San. You told him yunho was hot, but you didn’t think anyone heard you.

“That was a mistake,” stuttering out.

Yunho raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “So you don’t think I’m hot?” he asks, swallowing

Y/n look into his eyes and see the amusement dancing in them. Y/n look away from him. knowing you shouldn’t say it, but the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “You know you’re hot.”

Yunho grins, leaning in closer to your ear. “And what would you do to me if I wasn’t your father’s enforcer and you didn’t work for him?”

blushing red at his question, unsure how to answer it.

“I… I don’t know,” you whimpered.

Yunho chuckles and leans in to whisper in your ear. “I think you do know.”

Yunho slender fingers trail down your curve and a cry manifests in the air. His hands stops on your hips, pulling you closer.

Feeling the hardness of his length pressed against you. Y/n gasps at how enormous he feels. wanting all of him, but you shouldn’t. He’s forbidden fruit, and if your father founds out, he would be so pissed.

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down. Yunho’ lips are inches away from her and she just want to kiss him

Are you sure you want this? He murmured deeply against your heartshapes.

Y/n nods toward his question, pulling him down to plaster her mouth on his. Yunho’s heartshapes are hot against yours, he kisses you with so much dominance. A moan is eaten by his lips. He grips your body tighter to him feeling his member harden more.

Pulling you away from the wall and walks you over to your bed.laying y/n frame on the bed he hovers over your thick body, breaking the kiss. Scanning down at your features, his eyes grew dark before kissing again.yunho’s pointer finger roam over your pajama shirt and capture your perky breasts and squeezed.

Y/n mewl into the kiss, and a grin formed against your lips. He breaks the kiss and looks down at you.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” yunho whispers, making you shiver.

His hands finds the hem of your pajama shorts and pulls them off. He throws them on the floor and looks at your naked lovebox. Y/n face turns hot and red . She covers her face with her arm.

He chuckles and grabs your arm, pulling it away from your face. “Don’t be shy,” he says. “You are so beautiful.”

blushing even more at his words. He leans down and chaste kisses your lips before trailing his mouth down your neck. He stops at your right breast and pulls down your bra, your hard nipple appears. He leans down, taking it into his warm mouth.

“Ahhhhh yunhooo, your mouth feels so good” her fingers flew to his chestnut locks. Suckling on her nipple and his teeth graze it and nibbles. A whimper filled his ears as he grins against your bud before moving to the other one.

He leans up and pulls his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. He reaches down and pulls his length out of his sweatpants. His slender finger trails up his shaft to the tip, and y/n smirks at the size of it.

sitting up and push him onto his back. Y/n lean down and pull down his sweatpants and throw them on the floor. You lean down, taking his length into your mouth.

“Fuck,” yunho booms, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Y/n bobbing her head up and down, swirling your tongue along the tip of his cock. He grunts, thrusting his hips forward. gagging around his shaft, and tears well up in your eyes.

He groans curses, grabbing your hair and thrusting up his hips. choking around his length . He uses your mouth as his personal toy, and you love it. Y/n fell in love of the feel of his hard member in your mouth and his taste on your tongue.

She reach down and stick two fingers inside herself . Y/n sniffle around his shaft as you finger yourself. Yunho whine her name and thrusts harder.

He pulls you off him, and strings of saliva fall from your lips. Y/n gaze up at him with tears spilling from her eyes and a puckered lips.

“You look so pretty with my cock down your throat,” he grins, pulling you up.

Yunho flips you over, so you’re on your hands and knees. He grabs your hips, pulling you towards his cock.

A loud slap hung in the air from his assault on your ass, making you yelp. smirking before pushing his length inside you with one swift motion. A moan escape from your wet mouth, burying your face into the mattress. He thrusts hard, making your breasts bounce. He grabs your waist, pulling you back and forth on his cock.

You moan loudly, pushing your ass back against him. He grunts, slapping your ass again. He leans over you, kissing your shoulder as he continues to drive inside you hard.

Y/n plunge her ass back, meeting his assaults. He groans, pounding faster. You can feel yourself about to cum, and it feels so overwhelming.

You’re so close, and just as you’re about to cum, he stops and pulls out. You look back at him and whine. “Why did you stop?”

“I just wanted to tease you,” he smirks.

Y/n pout, and he leans in, placing a kiss on the side of your mouth. She wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. He breaks the kiss, and before you can say anything, he’s pushing his cock back inside you.

She moan as he starts to accelerate again. He pulls you back, so your back is against his chest. He wraps his arm around you and uses his other hand to squeeze your neck

You throw your head back against him, your mouth parted as gasps fell. You’re so close to cumming again, and just as you are, he stops.

“No! Why?” you whine, looking back at him.

He grins and flips you over. He leans down, lifting your leg over his shoulder. He pushes his cock inside you and penetrated deep.

Y/n moan his name, and he groans. He continues to thrust animalistic making your bed creak. your nails down his back marking him red, his lips fills with grunts. He grabs your throat, squeezing lightly as he thrusts even faster.

You moan, getting close to cumming again. You hope he doesn’t stop this time. You’re so close, and it feels amazing.

He thrusts faster, making you whimper and moan. Y/n felt her high lace her body and She cum around his cock, and your pussy clamps down on him. He grunts but doesn’t stop thrusting. You whine that you’re sore, but he just grins.

“You can take a little more,” his deep voice booms in your ear.

He thrusts harder and faster, and you feel yourself getting close again.

“You’re going to cum again,” he grunts, leaning down and biting your neck a red and blue mark appears.

scratch his back again. Y/n clenched around his 9inch length and robes of cum spirted out of her and around him, and he grunts. He stops thrusting, and you feel his cum fill you up. You pant, trying to catch your breath as yunho pulls out and lies next to you.

He pulls you closer, and you rest your head on his chest. You look up at him and blush. “That was…” you start, but yunho interrupts you.

“Amazing?” he smirks, pulling you closer to kiss your forhead

You smile and nod. “Yeah.”

Yunho smiles down at you. “Get some sleep,” he whispers. “We have an early flight tomorrow.”

[parkjammys]

the audacity of the official dc account to even post this 😭

[killerplink]

WRECKED

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Words: 9k

Plot: It's your first time with Jason. You thought you knew what to expect, until he ruined you. (yep, I'm officially a hoe, and my old crushes are coming back lmao)

It starts the second you're outside the bar. Jason's hand finds your waist, pulling you close like he can't bear the space between you any longer. His lips crash against yours—hungry, rough, possessive. You gasp into his mouth, and he takes full advantage, tongue sliding against yours as he walks you backward toward his bike.

You don't make it far. His hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devours you. His other hand grips your ass, fingers digging in like he owns you already. He groans when you grind into him, hips meeting yours with a delicious friction that has you whining.

"Fuck," he mutters against your lips. "Can't wait to get you home."

The ride to his apartment is a blur—his hand on your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles that make your pussy throb. The second you're inside, the door slams shut, and he's on you. His mouth finds yours again, teeth scraping your bottom lip before he bites just enough to make you moan. His hands slide under your thighs, and he lifts you like you weigh nothing, pinning you against the door.

You gasp, legs wrapping around his waist, feeling how hard he is through his jeans. He rolls his hips, grinding against you, and you whimper, clutching at his jacket.

"Jesus, listen to you," he growls, lips trailing to your jaw, then your neck.

His teeth scrape over your pulse before he sucks a bruise there, and your head thumps against the door. His big hands squeeze your ass, lifting and dropping you just enough to rub you against the bulge in his pants.

"Jason," you gasp, hips moving on instinct.

"Yeah, baby? Feels good?"

His voice is low, rough like gravel, and you can feel the smirk against your skin. He carries you to the bedroom effortlessly, tossing you onto the mattress with a grin. You barely catch your breath before he's climbing over you, tossing his jacket, kissing you like he's starving.

"You're so fuckin' pretty," he murmurs, fingers working at your clothes. "Bet you taste even better."

Your shirt goes next, then your bra, and shit, the way his eyes darken has heat flooding your cheeks. His palms—warm, rough—cup your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You arch into him, moaning when his mouth replaces his hands, tongue flicking before he sucks one into his mouth. His other hand kneads your other breast, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.

"You like that, baby?" His voice is a growl against your skin. "So sensitive... fuck, I could play with these all night."

He trails kisses lower, teeth grazing your stomach, and your breath hitches. His fingers hook into your waistband, dragging your pants and panties down slow. His gaze never leaves yours—hungry, possessive.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," he mutters, spreading your legs. "Look at this pretty pussy."

"Jay," you whimper, hips lifting.

"I've got you," he promises, voice thick. "Gonna make you feel so fuckin' good, baby."

Then fuck, his mouth is on you. His tongue drags through your folds, slow and filthy, making your back arch off the bed. He groans against you like you're his favorite meal, licking you like he can't get enough. His tongue flicks over your clit—soft at first, then harder when you moan—and you feel the smirk against you.

"Goddamn, you taste good," he mutters, voice rough.

His tongue dips lower, fucking into you, and you sob, fingers tangling in his hair. He sucks your clit, tongue flicking just right, and your hips grind against his face, chasing the heat coiling in your belly.

"That's it, baby. Take what you need," he growls, tongue relentless.

Your legs shake, toes curling as the pleasure builds, sharp and hot. His hands—huge, strong—hold your thighs open, keeping you right where he wants you. You moan his name, voice wrecked, and he groans against you, the vibrations shooting straight through you.

"Fuck, Jason—"

You're close, teetering on the edge—your whole body strung tight, nerves buzzing—when one thick finger pushes in. It's slow, intentional, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath catches, walls fluttering around him, so full from just his finger.

"Fuck," Jason groans, voice rough. "God, you're tight."

His eyes—dark, blown wide with lust—stay on yours, drinking in every twitch, every gasp that slips from your lips. His free hand holds your thigh open, firm but gentle, like he wants you spread just for him.

Then, without warning, he adds a second finger. The stretch is intense, burning in that delicious way that has your back arching, hips tilting to take him deeper.

"Easy," he murmurs, soft, despite how wrecked he looks. "Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out for me, baby. Can't have you strugglin' with my dick."

God. Your cheeks burn, heat flooding through you at his words, pussy clenching tight around his fingers. He feels it, and the groan that rumbles from his chest is obscene.

"You like that?"

His grin is crooked, cocky. His fingers curl—fuck—pressing right against that perfect spot inside you. Your mouth falls open, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as your hips jerk.

"There," he breathes, eyes locked on your face. "Right there, huh?"

His pace picks up—slow but deep, fingers fucking into you like he's got all the time in the world. He twists them just right, dragging along your walls with a rhythm that has your thighs trembling. The wet sounds echo in the room, filthy and soaked, each thrust squelching louder as your arousal drips down to his palm.

"Jesus, baby," Jason groans, gaze dropping to where his fingers disappear into you. "Look at this pussy, so fuckin' wet for me. I haven't even fucked you yet, and you're already drippin'."

Your head falls back, heat swirling in your belly, pleasure winding tight. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, precise circles that make your vision blur.

"That's it," he murmurs, lips brushing your thigh as he presses kisses between filthy praise. "Take it, baby. Just like that... fuck, you're squeezin' my fingers so good."

He leans down again, tongue flicking over your clit, and you cry out, hips jerking. The combination—his fingers curling deep, tongue working your sensitive bundle of nerves—has you unraveling fast.

"Jay—fuck—I—I'm gonna—"

"I know, baby," he growls against your pussy, voice wrecked. "Cum for me. C'mon, lemme feel you soak my fingers."

And fuck, you do. The coil snaps—hot and all consuming—as you cum hard, walls clenching around his fingers. Your whole body shudders, pleasure crashing over you in waves. You sob his name, hips rocking through it, chasing every last spark.

Jason keeps going, drawing it out, his fingers fucking into you through your orgasm. Your slick coats his hand, dripping onto the sheets, and the sounds—messy, obscene—only make the high hit harder.

"Goddamn," he mutters, watching you with a look that's part worship, part starving. "Look at you. So fuckin' pretty when you cum. Feels so good around my fingers... can't wait to feel you around my dick."

You're panting, body wrecked, but his mouth finds you again, fingers slipping out of you, and he's licking you clean, tongue dragging through your folds, tasting every drop you've given him. You whimper, overstimulated, but he groans, sucking your clit just to hear you whine.

"You can give me another one, baby," he murmurs against you, voice dangerous. "Haven't even started yet."

Your orgasm barely fades before Jason's mouth is back on you, tongue dragging a slow, wet stripe through your folds. Your hips jerk, thighs trembling from the overstimulation, but his hands—big and firm—press your legs open, keeping you spread wide for him.

"Jay—" you whimper, trying to close up, overwhelmed, but his grip tightens.

"Uh-uh, baby," he murmurs against your soaked cunt, voice rough and dark. "Told you, I'm not done. Not 'til I taste everything you've got for me."

Fuck. Heat swirls in your belly, a mess of pleasure and desperation, nerves alight. You try to squirm, try to close your legs again, but it's useless. His arms are strong, holding you open like you're nothing to him just something to devour.

And God, the way he eats you out...

His tongue moves slow, deliberate, fucking into you with wet, obscene strokes that make your head spin. It's messy, his spit mixing with your slick, dripping down to the sheets below. Every flick, every press of his tongue is precise, like he's studied your body, like he knows exactly how to pull those sounds from you.

Your back arches, hips trying to ride his face, and he groans, the vibration shooting through you. His hands grip your thighs, thumbs pressing bruising marks into your skin as he guides you over his mouth.

"You taste so fuckin' good," he mutters, pulling back just enough to breathe you in, his lips slick with your arousal. His eyes—dark, pupils blown—drag up your body, gaze heated. "Could eat this pussy all night."

Your mind reels. No one's ever eaten you like this before, ever. The guys you dated? Please. They'd barely been able to find your clit, let alone worship you like this, like you're the best thing Jason's ever had in his mouth. And God, the way he looks at you—like you're his. Like he lives for the way you moan, the way you fall apart under his tongue.

"Jay," you gasp, fingers threading through his hair, tugging but he just laughs, deep and hungry.

"You can pull all you want, baby," he grins against you, fucking into you with his tongue again. "Not lettin' you go 'til you cum on my face."

His tongue fucks into you deep, and fuck, your legs shake, your whole body strung tight. Pleasure coils low in your belly, building fast, dizzying. Jason knows. Of course he does. His gaze stays locked on your face, watching every gasp, every shudder. Loving how you fall apart for him.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, lips dragging over your clit before he sucks—hard, perfect. "Give it to me. I wanna feel you cum again, wanna taste it."

And fuck, you do.

The second orgasm hits hard, ripping through you with white hot intensity. Your thighs clamp around his head, but he doesn't stop, hands holding you open as he devours you through it. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body writhing, sobbing his name.

So good—too good.

Jason groans like he can't get enough, tongue dragging through your soaked folds, drinking down everything you give him. In his head, it's a mess of thoughts—she's so fuckin' beautiful, so tight and wet and perfect. Could spend hours between her legs, make her cum until she's cryin'—mine.

When you finally go limp, chest heaving, body wrecked, he pulls back with a filthy grin. His lips, chin—soaked. His eyes burn into you, warm and starving.

"Fuck," he breathes, kissing your inner thigh. "So good for me."

Your chest heaves, vision hazy as you blink down at him. His mouth is slick with you, lips curled into that cocky grin, but his eyes are soft, like you're the only thing that matters.

Then he moves up, muscles shifting beneath flushed skin, body radiating heat. His hand comes up, fingers threading into your hair, cupping the top of your head just right. The touch sends a shiver down your spine—gentle, but possessive. He tilts your face toward him, gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, and then he kisses you. God.

It's messy, hot and filthy, your mouths sliding together. His lips are soft but urgent, tongue pressing past yours like he needs you. You can taste yourself on him, thick and salty, spreading across your tongue—fuck. Your fingers clutch his shoulders, nails digging into hard muscle as you suck on his tongue, drawing a deep, hungry groan from his chest.

He presses closer, crowding you against the bed, hand tightening in your hair. The kiss turns sloppy, wet noises filling the space between gasps and moans. His lips drag over yours, breathing you in, swallowing the soft whimpers you can't hold back.

Then, he pulls back. Barely. Just enough to look at you. His gaze roams over your face—flushed, lips swollen and slick from him—ruined. His thumb brushes your rosy cheek, tender amidst the heat.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he murmurs, voice thick with something soft, something real. His eyes catch yours—burning, sincere. "Don't be shy."

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Fuck. You blush, lips parting to speak but words fail you. All you can do is nod, heart pounding.

And then you pull him back in.

Another kiss—this one deeper, needier, tongues tangling like you can't get enough. Because you can't. Not with the way he holds you, not with the way he tastes, not with the way his body presses into yours like you belong there, like this is where you've always belonged. And God, maybe you do.

Your hands are all over him: fingers dragging across heated skin, nails scraping over the hard planes of his back as you kiss like you'll die without it. It's frantic, messy, lips sliding, teeth clashing, tongues greedy. His hands are everywhere—gripping, squeezing, grinding you against him until you can feel how hard he is through his jeans, thick and aching.

Somehow, between kisses that leave you breathless, you fumble with his shirt, tugging it up. Jason breaks away just long enough to yank it off, tossing it aside—fuck.

God, he's all muscle. Broad chest, pecs firm, shoulders so wide they make you feel small. His abs are cut, ridges begging to be traced, and fuck, you do. Running your hands down his stomach as he groans, head tipping back. His skin is warm, stretched over powerful muscle and old scars, stories written across him.

Your gaze drops—oh God.

He's stripping out of his jeans now, pushing them down along with his boxers, and fuck. You knew he was big. You knew it from the way his hands dwarfed yours, the way his fingers stretched you open when he prepped you, the way his cock felt heavy against your belly when he first laid you out beneath him.

But seeing it, really seeing it, makes your throat go dry. He's long and thick, veiny, the head flushed and leaking. Precum beads at the tip, dripping down the shaft, smearing across your skin when he presses close again. You can feel it, sticky warmth spreading over your stomach—fuck.

Your legs are already spread, body pliant under his touch, flushed warm from how long he's spent kissing every inch of you. But now that you're here, staring down at that thick length, your confidence wavers.

"Jay," you breathe, voice softer than you expect—half awe, half holy shit.

He knows. Of course he does. His hands are already smoothing up your thighs, squeezing gently as he leans over you. Dark hair falls forward, that white streak that you like catching the dim light, casting shadows across his wrecked face. His eyes—fuck—dark, pupils blown wide with lust, consuming you.

"You still good, baby?"

His voice is low, thick with restraint, like he's holding himself back by a thread. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Instead, your fingers flex against his shoulders, gripping hard. He's just... so big.

Jason lets out a quiet chuckle, dipping down to kiss your nose—sweet, soft. "You're lookin' at me like I'm about to break you."

You swallow, heart pounding. "You are."

His jaw flexes, something raw flickering across his face—heat, hunger, something tender too.

"Nah." His lips brush yours—soft, a promise in the wreckage. "Gonna take care of you." Another kiss, deeper this time, stealing your breath. "Gonna make it feel good."

He lines himself up, cock heavy in his hand, and fuck, you can feel it—hot and throbbing against your soaked folds. His other hand rests on your thigh, holding you open like it's the easiest thing in the world.

You're panting, skin flushed, every nerve lit up as he drags the thick head of his dick through your slick, smearing precum and arousal together until it's messy, sticky, filthy.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice rough, wrecked. "Look at this... look at how wet you are for me."

His gaze drops to where you're spread wide for him, cock nudging your clit—a jolt shoots through you, your hips twitching—but his hands hold you down, firm and unchanging.

"You hear that?" he rasps, rolling his hips just enough that the head slides against your swollen clit—slick noises filling the air. "Soaked, baby. Shit, you're fuckin' perfect."

Heat flares through you, cheeks burning, but you can't stop the needy little whimper that escapes when he teases your entrance again, tip pressing just barely inside.

His gaze lifts—hungry, dark, soft. Like you're his whole goddamn world. "You ready for me, pretty girl?" His thumb brushes your cheek, tender despite the weight of his cock poised at your entrance. "Gonna take care of you, yeah?"

You nod, breath catching. "Yeah... Please."

Jason's jaw tightens, like he's barely holding on. "Good girl."

And then—fuck—he starts to push in.

The stretch is instant, your pussy straining around the thick head of his cock. It's too much, too big, and your fingers scramble for purchase, gripping the sheets tight as a gasp rips from your throat.

"F-fuck—"

"Shhh, I've got you," Jason soothes, voice gentle even as his hips press forward. His hand slides up, thumb stroking soothing circles into your skin. "Just breathe for me, baby. So good, takin' me so fuckin' well."

You try, you really do, but God, the burn. It's sharp, making your legs twitch, hips jerking. His cock splits you open, inch by slow, agonizing inch.

Jason groans, head dropping to rest against your shoulder for a beat, shaking. "Jesus, baby... you're—fuck. Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight."

His words send heat pooling in your belly, but it's so much, stretching you to your limit. You bite your lip, eyes squeezed shut as he pauses, hips still, letting you adjust. His hand cups your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"You okay?"

His voice is soft, earnest. Like he'd stop if you asked. Like he wants you to feel good more than anything.

You nod, chest heaving. "Hurts... but fuck, it's so good."

"Yeah?" His lips brush yours, achingly tender. "You're doin' so fuckin' good for me, baby. So fuckin' tight, can barely—shit—barely fit."

And then he rocks his hips, just a little, just to test the water. White-hot pleasure sparks, the pain melting, shifting into something else entirely. Your walls clench around him instinctively, trying to pull him deeper, and fuck, your whimper slips out, soft, shaky, helpless.

Jason's breath catches, body tense, every muscle flexing. He looks down at you, pupils blown, lips parted. "Fuck, do that again," he rasps, voice barely there.

Your mind swims, overwhelmed, but when he rolls his hips once more, your body betrays you, another whimper falling free.

Jason growls. Deep, rough, like he's losing it. He pushes in slow, cock thick and unforgiving as your pussy clings to every inch, stretching around him. There's a burn, sharp and intense, making your breath hitch, but fuck, it feels so good, hurts just right.

"Shhh," Jason soothes, voice low, thick with restraint. His hands frame your face, holding you steady, his muscles taut beneath your fingers. "Doin' so good, baby. Just a little more. Almost there."

He pauses, lets you breathe, lets you feel. His cock throbs inside you, barely halfway in, and you're already so full. You gasp, head tilting back, chest heaving.

"Fuck," you whisper, walls fluttering. "So big..."

Jason's jaw flexes, a soft groan spilling from his lips. "Yeah? You're takin' me so fuckin' well. Goddamn, look at you." His gaze drops, watching where his cock disappears into you, your slick coating him. "Messy already, baby. So pretty."

He eases in further, slow, careful, letting you adjust. Your cunt struggles to take him, every inch a stretch, a burn, but it melts, shifts into pleasure, thick and all consuming.

And then he bottoms out.

You gasp, a soft cry escaping as his hips press flush against yours. "Oh God—" so deep, so hot, so full.

Your pussy clenches, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. Jason leans down, kisses you. Slow, deep, hot. His tongue slides against yours, coaxing you into a messy dance that makes your walls tighten around him.

He groans softly into your mouth—low, rough, and fuck, you feel it everywhere. His tongue dances with yours, messy, heated, but not rushed, like he wants to savor you, to taste every little sound you make. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he leans into it, deepening the kiss until your lungs burn and your head swims.

Your pussy flutters around his thick cock, gripping him with every shift of his hips, the fullness inside you making your toes curl. Every swirl of his tongue sends sparks down your spine, feeding that deep ache between your legs. God, you're so full of him, your slick walls clenching like your body is begging to keep him there.

And underneath it all, that steady throb of him inside you, every flutter of your cunt making him curse softly against your lips, hips stuttering as your body squeezes him tight.

"Shit, baby," he groans into your mouth. "Clampin' down on me like that—fuck—feels so fuckin' good."

Your head spins, drowning in heat and him. When he pulls back, breaking the kiss, his eyes are dark, soft, wrecked.

"You alright?" he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek.

You nod, breath shaky. "Please... move."

That's all it takes. Jason pulls out almost entirely, the thick head dragging against your sensitive walls—your slick making a wet sound that has him groaning, hips trembling.

Then, he pushes back in. Slow. Deliberate. Every inch filling you perfectly.

Your mind blurs, overwhelmed by the stretch and heat. Fuck, he feels so good, so full, your pussy molding to him like it was made for this. And bare, skin to skin, it's different. Better. Raw. Intimate.

No barriers. Just him. You. Heat. Friction.

Your thoughts spiral, remembering how sweet he'd been, getting tested just for you. "You don't have to, baby," he'd said, so sure, so trusting.

But you had anyway. Wanted to reassure him. Wanted this. Bare. Real. And God, you hadn't known sex could feel this good. Jason's pace is slow, deep, torturous. His hips roll, dragging his cock against every sensitive spot inside you.

"Fuck, baby—" his voice is rough, wrecked. "Pussy's perfect. So fuckin' tight. So good. You hear yourself? Best fuckin' sounds I ever heard."

Your moans spill free, soft, needy, mixing with the slick sounds of him fucking into you. His lips find yours again—kissing you, worshiping you, every thrust measured, deep, making you feel every inch.

Jason moves slow, deep, fucking you with a rhythm that makes your whole body ache for more. Every thrust has him sliding against your walls, every drag of his cock making your pussy tighten like it never wants to let him go. And fuck, he feels it, feels the way you're so wet, so hot, your cunt pulling him in like you were made for this.

"Shit," he mutters, voice rough as his forehead drops against yours. "You're gonna kill me, baby."

His lips brush your cheek, your jaw, his breath ragged, every exhale heavy with restraint. "Sound so fuckin' sweet."

You can't hold still. Your hands scramble for purchase, gripping his arms, his back, nails digging into the muscle that flexes with every roll of his hips.

"Jay, I—"

"I know, baby," he whispers, voice strained, thick with want. "I know. I've got you. I've got you."

And fuck, he does. His hands are everywhere—one sliding down your thigh, fingers digging in as he lifts your leg higher against his waist, adjusting the angle. And when he thrusts again—

His hips roll slow, deep, dragging pleasure through your veins, making your body tremble beneath him. You're stretching, adjusting, but it still feels like too much—too big, too deep—but you love it, love how he's holding you together even as he's pulling you apart.

"Fuck," he groans, voice shaking. "Look at you."

You barely have the strength to open your eyes, but when you do—fuck. He looks wrecked. His jaw is clenched tight, his eyes dark and hungry, but his hands—his big, gentle hands—stroke along your body, like he's memorizing every inch of you. And then he leans down, lips brushing your temple, voice low and possessive.

"Mine," he murmurs, rough and raw. "All mine."

Your breath hitches, body clenching around him at the gravel in his voice.

Jason grins, breathless, his nose brushing yours. "Love those little noises, baby." His hips roll again, slow, teasing, making your toes curl. "You gonna keep whimpering for me?"

You can't stop. Not when he has you like this, stretched out beneath him, held so gently even as he fucks you deep.

He groans, lips trailing down your throat, biting lightly at your shoulder. "Fuck," he mutters, voice rough, words punctuated by another deep, perfect thrust. "Gonna make you feel so fuckin' good."

Your body arches, thighs shaking, and Jason—God, he feels everything. How you clench when he kisses you, how your cunt squeezes him when he praises you.

You cling to him like you'll fall apart if you don't, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders, pulling him down until his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is deep, sloppy, hot, all teeth and tongue, your moans spilling between his lips as he fucks you faster. His hips snap forward, each thrust deeper, harder, making you cry out against his mouth.

"Fuck—baby," he groans into the kiss, tongue sliding against yours, tasting every little sound you make. "So fuckin' sweet—"

His skin slaps against yours, the squelch of your slick coating him every time he bottoms out, his pelvis rubbing right against your clit—right there—and fuck, it's too much. Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, pulling him closer, tighter, like you can anchor yourself to him.

"Jay—oh my God—"

"Yeah?" he grunts, lips dragging down to your neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks that'll sting later. "That feel good, baby? Fuckin'—God, you feel so fuckin' good around me."

Your moans get higher, softer, desperate, your body trembling beneath him as he pounds into you. Every thrust hits that spot, the pressure building so tight you can barely breathe.

"C'mon, pretty girl," he pants, voice wrecked, hips grinding deeper. "Give it to me. Wanna feel you cum on my dick."

That pushes you over. Your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train, pleasure exploding through your veins, blinding, hot, overwhelming. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a cry that's half a moan, half a sob, your cunt clenching so tight around him it pulls a growl from his chest.

"Fuck, fuck, baby—"

He keeps moving, hips grinding through it, dragging out your orgasm until you're shaking, your thighs trembling around his waist. Every thrust makes you feel it everywhere, your clit rubbing against his skin, sparks of pleasure crackling through you with every squelching slide of his cock.

"Goddamn," Jason groans, head dropping to your shoulder, panting, his voice rough in your ear. "Pussy's squeezin' me so fuckin' tight—shit. Feels so good, baby, so fuckin' good."

Your fingers scrape down his back, desperate for more, even as your body twitches with aftershocks. His cock drags against your over sensitive walls, making you whimper, and he smirks against your skin.

"Look at you," he pants, fucking into you slow now, deep, making you feel every inch. "Takin' me so good, baby—fuck, love how you cum for me."

Your brain's mush, your body boneless, but you want more.

"Jay..."

It's half a moan, half a whimper, and fuck, the sound makes his hips stutter. His eyes snap to yours, brows furrowing with instant worry. Shit. His brain short circuits, thoughts racing—Did I hurt her? Push too far?

The last thing he wants is to hurt you, to ruin this. His heart twists, the rush of panic making his grip ease but then you lick your lips, breath shaky, eyes dark with need.

"H-harder," you whisper, voice barely there but wrecked, needy, and so fucking hot it punches the air from his lungs.

He goes dumb for a second—blinking, brain lagging—because holy shit.

"You sure, baby?"

His voice is rough, low, edged with concern but fuck, there's heat burning bright in his eyes. You nod, brows furrowed, lips parted, dripping for him, and God, he's gone. So fucking gone.

You have no idea how completely wrecked he is over you, how your face, your sounds, the way you look right now is burned into his soul. Fuck, he doesn't think he's ever wanted anyone this badly—no, not badly. Desperately.

"If something doesn't feel right," he rasps, leaning in, voice serious beneath the hunger, "you tell me, yeah?"

You nod again, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, and that's it, he loses it. His hips snap forward, harder, deeper, faster, dragging a sharp cry from your throat as your head throws back, mouth falling open. God, the sound, the way your tits bounce with every thrust—it's too much.

His gaze locks on them, entranced, like they're the prettiest fucking thing he's ever seen—soft, perfect, fucking begging for his mouth. He leans down, tongue flicking over a pebbled nipple, sucking, licking, his lips wrapping around it hungrily.

"Fuck—" he groans against your skin, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver.

He moves to the other, sucking deep, leaving faint hickeys, marks he wants burned into your skin because you're his right now, all his.

"Look at you," he pants, thrusting deep, hips grinding against you, rubbing your clit just right. "So fuckin' gorgeous... bouncin' for me like that—shit, baby, you're unreal."

Your nails dig into his back, scraping, making him groan against your chest. His thrusts pick up, relentless, dragging wet, filthy squelches from where he's buried deep, your pussy clenching around him so perfectly.

"Fuckin' God," he grits out, "feel like you're made for me." His voice breaks, wrecked with pure need, hips slamming into yours, making the bed creak, skin slapping loud and obscene. "So tight, baby, takin' me so fuckin' good—shit, you hear that? Hear how wet you are for me?"

Every thrust makes your breath hitch, your body rocking with his. His mouth moves between your neck and chest, tasting, licking, biting, leaving you marked, claimed.

"Fuck, baby—fuck," he pants, hips relentless, his abs flexing against your stomach, body hot and solid. "You're gonna ruin me. Shit, you already have."

He pulls away, your nipple leaving his mouth with a wet pop, and fuck, the way your chest heaves makes him want to dive back in, but no. Not yet.

He sits upright, hands gripping your hips, and Jesus, the sight wrecks him. His gaze locks on the place where his dick slides in and out of you, slick and glistening, soaked with how fucking wet you are.

"Shit, baby—" his voice catches, rough and wrecked, "look at this."

Your pussy stretches around him, tight and perfect, swallowing him whole. Every thrust drags a filthy squelch, his cock gleaming with your slick, and fuck, you're making a mess—dripping down to his balls, coating him. His abs flex with every deep thrust, jaw clenched as he watches your cunt take him, take all of him.

"Goddamn," he groans, hips rolling, eyes glued to where you're joined. "Look at you takin' it—fuck, baby, you're takin' my whole dick—" He grits his teeth, pulling out slow, just to watch your pussy cling, desperate to keep him inside. "You're gonna kill me, baby. Shit."

You squirm, sheepish, a flush burning across your skin. "Don't... don't look at me," you whine, voice small, embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze, the way he's devouring you with his eyes.

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and hot, but there's warmth in it—soft, reassuring beneath the feral hunger.

"Hey," he murmurs, hips still moving, deep, slow, "don't do that. Don't hide from me." His thumb brushes along your hip, gentle despite the rough pace. "You're fuckin' gorgeous, baby, every part of you. Watching you take me like this—shit, it's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

His hand moves, sliding down until his fingers find your clit, puffy and needy. He circles it, slow, deliberate, just as his hips pound into you, dragging a choked whine from your throat.

"Jay—oh, fuck... too much," you whimper, hips jerking, trying to squirm away, but his grip tightens, holding you right there.

"No, baby," he pants, hips relentless, dick hitting deep, stretching you wide. "You can take it. You're my good girl, right? Gimme one more, c'mon, I'm so fuckin' close."

Your mind spins, thoughts scattered, every thrust punching pleasure through your veins. He's big—God, so fucking big—stretching you to the limit, filling you so deep it feels like you can feel him in your throat. Every thrust hits that spot, sparks exploding behind your eyes. This is the best fuck of your life, no contest.

And fuck, people call him scary, say he's dangerous, but not here, not with you. Not like this. Not when his touch is careful, when he's so mindful of your pleasure, his voice gentle even as he wrecks you.

"God," he groans, hips slamming into you, his thumb rubbing against your clit with every thrust, making your thighs shake. "You feel so fuckin' good. Tight, wet, takin' me so perfect. Baby—shit—you got no idea what you're doin' to me."

Your nails dig into his arms, desperate, overwhelmed, his dick dragging against your walls, making you see stars.

He pounds into you, hips slamming against yours with bruising force, each thrust dragging a broken moan from your throat. His fingers circle your clit, faster, harder, until you're falling apart, babbling, a mess of whimpers and cries.

"Fuck, Jay... oh my God, please—"

You can't think, can't breathe, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your back arching, body tightening beneath him.

"That's it, baby. Fuck, you're takin' me so good. C'mon,give it to me... cum for me, doll—wanna feel you squeeze me," he growls, hips relentless, cock dragging against your sweet spot over and over.

And fuck, when it hits, it's devastating. Your vision whites out, body snapping taut as your orgasm crashes through you, intense and shattering. Your pussy clamps down around him, pulsing, milking his cock, making him curse, a ragged moan tearing from his chest.

But he doesn't stop.

He leans over you, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss, messy, desperate. His tongue tangles with yours, claiming, consuming, swallowing your gasps and whimpers as he fucks you through your high. His hips drive deep, faster, rougher, chasing his own release, and you melt under him—helpless, wrecked.

"God, Jay, you feel so good," you whimper against his lips, voice wrecked, slurred with pleasure. "So deep, fuck... so good—"

His eyes flutter shut, hips slamming into you with single-minded focus, cock dragging against your sensitive walls. "Fuck, baby," he pants, voice rough, wrecked, "you got no fuckin' idea—shit—drivin' me crazy."

He moans—deep, guttural—right in your ear, making your whole body shudder. "Where d'you want me to cum, doll?" His voice breaks, hips still pounding, "Tell me—fuck—where d'you want it?"

You don't hesitate, eyes glassy, lips parted, "Inside me, God, please—"

And fuck, that's it—he's gone.

"Shit, fuck, fuck," he growls, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hips slamming into you like a man possessed.

His dick throbs, swelling inside you, then he breaks, hips jerking, and he cums, hard, deep. Hot ropes of cum flood your pussy, the pressure blinding, making you cry out, pussy clenching around him.

God. His load is huge. You can feel it—hot, thick, endless. Spurts of cum paint your insides, flooding your pussy so much it spills out, leaking around his thrusting cock in wet, sticky streams. Each pulse of his dick sends another gush of cum deeper, so warm and slick you swear you feel it spreading, coating every inch of your clenching walls.

And fuck, your cunt's puffy, swollen from how hard he's fucked you, stretched so perfectly around him, gripping him like your body refuses to let him go. His cock's still thick, throbbing, buried balls deep as he grinds his hips, like he needs to push it all in, like he wants his cum everywhere.

The pressure's too much.

Your clit's throbbing, overstimulated, slick and sensitive from how he rubbed it raw, from how his skin keeps dragging against it. And with his cum gushing inside, with his cock pounding it deeper, it tips you over again, one last time.

Your orgasm slams into you like a fucking freight train.

"Oh, fuck, Jay... oh my God—"

Your back arches, mouth dropping open in a silent scream before broken moans spill out, babbling, wrecked. Your pussy clamps down so tight around him it makes him curse, hips jerking.

"Shit, baby, fuck—" as you milk his cock, your walls spasming, pulling every last drop from him.

Stars burst behind your eyelids—white hot, blinding. Your whole body shakes, overwhelmed, nerves lit up, toes curling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you, relentless.

You can't stop shaking, can't stop moaning, a wrecked mess under him, drenched in sweat, skin tingling from how good—how fucking good—he makes you feel.

And he's still there, still grinding, fucking his cum into you, hips rolling slow, making wet squelches fill the air—filthy, messy, your combined slick and his cum making a sloppy mess between you. You feel it leak out, thick streams oozing past where you're stretched wide around him, warm as it dribbles down your ass.

"Look at you," he pants, voice wrecked, dark eyes devouring you. "So fuckin' pretty, makin' a mess all over me. Shit, baby, takin' me so good."

Your breath hitches, heart racing, head spinning. You're ruined. Destroyed. And fuck, you love it. Your body trembles, and you sob—not from pain, but from too much pleasure, from how overwhelmed you are.

"Shhh, pretty girl," he murmurs, voice soft, soothing, as his lips brush over your skin—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips—gentle pecks that ground you, anchor you to him.

His big hands roam your body, soothing touches that chase away the lingering tremors.

"It's okay, baby. Got you," he whispers, thumb rubbing soft circles along your hip.

His body's so warm against yours, chest rising and falling with steady breaths, damp with sweat. He's careful, so careful not to crush you with his weight, propped up just enough to let you breathe, but still close enough that you can feel him everywhere.

And fuck, his dick's still inside you, still thick, still faintly throbbing. The stretch makes you whimper, a soft, shaky sound that tugs at his heart. He smiles, leans down, and runs a hand through your hair, fingers gentle, comforting.

"You did so good for me," he murmurs, voice rough but tender. "So fuckin' good, pretty girl."

Your lashes flutter, heart pounding, and you murmur, voice wobbly, "God, that... that was... so fucking good."

He chuckles, low and warm, a sound that rumbles through his chest. "Yeah, baby?"

His dark eyes soften when you nod, your nose brushing his, eyes big and beautiful, looking at him with this adoring gaze that wrecks him all over again. Fuck, you let him fuck you like that—hard, deep, relentless—and now you're looking at him like he hung the stars, like he didn't just ruin you, like he's something good. And God, that does something to him. Warms him, unravels him, makes him want to kiss you again and again.

So he does.

He leans down, lips brushing yours, and the kiss unfolds slow, lazy, messy. His tongue slides against yours, soft moans mixing between your mouths. Your lips part, welcoming him, and he tastes you, deep and slow, like he's got all the time in the world. His fingers thread through your hair, cradling you, keeping you close as you melt into him.

Your breaths mingle, warm and shaky, tongues sliding together in a sloppy kiss that's all soft sounds—wet licks, gentle sucks, hushed moans. You cling to him, nails digging into his back, and he loves it, loves you like this—soft, wrecked, beautiful.

He breaks the kiss after a few lingering licks, breathing heavy against your lips, and slowly, he begins to pull out.

You hiss, a sharp, shaky sound, and your thighs tremble, cunt sore, swollen, molded to the shape of his cock. The drag of him leaving your puffy, overstimulated pussy has your eyes fluttering, jaw slack, as warm, sticky cum begins to leak out—his load, thick and hot, spilling down your messy folds.

And fuck, his eyes are glued to the sight.

Your pussy is glistening, wrecked, stretched from taking him so deep and so good, and there's so much cum, sticky strings connecting your swollen lips to his slick, flushed dick. His jaw clenches, fingers itching to push it back in, to watch you drip around his cock again. God, the urge is unbearable.

But then you whimper, soft and tired, and he shakes himself out of it, soothing a hand over your quivering thigh. "Easy, baby," he murmurs, voice rough but gentle, "I know."

He plops down beside you, muscles relaxing, and you instinctively snuggle in, nuzzling against his broad, sweaty chest. His heartbeat's steady, comforting, and without hesitation, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. He presses a kiss to your temple, warm lips lingering as his fingers trace soft shapes along your damp skin.

"You okay?" he asks, voice low, concern threading through the roughness.

You nod, so sleepy, so fucked out, eyelids heavy. "Mhmm," you murmur, content.

He chuckles, that deep, warm sound rumbling through his chest, and god, it soothes you. His calloused fingers glide along your sweat-slicked skin, slow, comforting, as you breathe him in—warm, safe, so good.

You tilt your head up, blinking lazily, and pout, voice soft, "Can I stay?"

He pauses, brows knitting as he glances down. "What?"

Your cheeks heat, and you look away, suddenly sheepish. Fuck. He doesn't exactly scream cuddles after fucking. Not with the reputation that precedes him.

But then his fingers gently tilt your chin up, urging your gaze back to his. "Hey, talk to me, baby."

Your heart skips. You swallow, nervous, "I mean... I... can I stay the night?"

For a beat, there's silence, then he laughs, and it's a surprised, genuine sound, and cups your cheek, thumb brushing softly along your warm skin.

"I didn't know leaving was an option."

Your eyes widen, taken aback, and then you giggle, nose scrunching. "You like me that much?"

And God, you've only been together a few weeks, and yeah, maybe you thought he was just waiting to fuck you, toss you aside after, but fuck, he's been so good to you from the start.

You just believed the talk, like a moron. He's Red Hood, Jason Todd. He fucks and leaves. That's what everyone said. But he never made you feel like that. Not once.

"I do," he says, simple, honest, and it hits you right in the chest.

Your heart flutters, and you see it: the sincerity in those bright blue eyes, something soft and real that makes your throat tighten.

His hand trails down from your side, and then, he cups your ass, big hand kneading the soft flesh before giving it a playful slap.

You yelp, giggling against his chest, and he grins, "Couldn't help myself," he murmurs, teasing.

You almost fall asleep against him, nuzzled into his warm chest, surrounded by the steady beat of his heartbeat and the faint scent of his skin—clean, a hint of gunpowder, and something uniquely him that makes your head spin. God, he smells so fucking good.

His fingers trace soft patterns along your sweaty skin, gentle, soothing, and fuck, it's impossible not to drift. Your eyelids droop, breath slowing, body boneless against him.

But then he shifts slightly, muscles tensing as he moves, and you whine, voice small, "Nooo..."

He chuckles, the sound deep and fond. "C'mon, baby," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "We gotta clean up."

You pout, half asleep, mumbling, "M'tired..."

And fuck, he melts. Heart just gone. You're too cute, all sleepy and clingy, eyes heavy and lips pouty. "I'll clean you quickly, I promise, okay?"

You grumble, but when he pulls away, you whimper, instinctively clinging to him. His brows lift, a bit surprised. He's not that guy—not the cuddly type, not the one for soft aftercare. But for you? Fuck. For you, he is.

"Alright, baby," he murmurs, and then he scoops you up, effortless, like you weigh nothing.

His arms cradle you against his broad chest, warmth radiating off him as he carries you to the bathroom. The tile's cool beneath his bare feet, and the soft glow of the bathroom light makes everything feel hazy, dreamlike. He sets you down gently, but you cling, arms wrapped around his torso, cheek pressed to his skin.

"Jesus," he laughs softly, "you're really not lettin' go, huh?"

You mumble something incoherent, and he just grins, wrapping an arm around you while he reaches to turn on the shower. The pipes groan, and warm steam begins to fill the air.

"Just a bit more," he says, voice low, chin resting on your shoulder as you lean back into him, "and we'll go to sleep, yeah?"

You nod sleepily, and he presses a soft kiss to the curve of your neck, lips warm against your cool skin. The water heats up, steam curling around you both, and he guides you into the shower cabin. The first rush of warm water hits your skin, washing away the sweat and stickiness, and you sigh, body relaxing further.

He steps behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. One of his hands spreads over your belly, rubbing slow circles.

"God," he hums, mouth brushing against your damp hair, "you did so good for me, baby."

Your heart flutters, but you just nod, too tired to do much else.

"Just a quick shower," he murmurs, reaching for his body wash.

He pours some into his hand—and God, his hands are so big compared to you—before he starts lathering you up. His fingers glide over your skin, gentle but thorough, slick suds sliding down your tired body.

He washes you carefully, every curve, every dip, soothing touches along your arms, shoulders, hips. He's fast but soft, intent on making sure you're clean without keeping you up too long.

When he finishes, he guides you under the spray, rinsing you off, and you just lean against him, boneless, letting him take care of you.

"See? Told you I'd be quick," he grins, fingers brushing along your waist.

"Mhmm," you murmur, sleepy satisfaction settling in your bones.

Then, it's his turn. He grabs the body wash, lathering up quickly, and you step back slightly, half lidded eyes drifting down his broad chest, strong arms, defined abs, water cascading down his tattooed skin.

God. You bite your lip, not even subtle about staring. His muscles shift with every movement, abs flexing as he runs suds over his chest, water tracing every dip and ridge. And when he turns around to rinse off—fuck.

His back is just as unfair, muscles rippling, tattoos stretching over his skin, and your gaze drops lower. His ass is perfect, firm and sculpted, like something out of a fantasy, and those thighs—Jesus.

Thick, powerful, covered in droplets that slide down to his calves. You can see the sheer strength there, thighs that could crush you without trying, legs that hold him steady when he wrecks you.

And then... yeah, he catches you.

"Caught you starin', baby," he teases, grinning, "like what you see?"

Your face heats, and you huff, "Shut up."

"Didn't hear a no," he laughs, water streaming down his face, blue eyes bright with amusement.

You pinch your nose just as he turns off the water, a little scrunch of your face that makes him snort softly.

"Such a drama queen," he mutters, grinning as he steps out first, water dripping from his tattooed skin.

He grabs a towel, gives it a quick shake, and then turns back to you. Warmth flickers in his blue eyes as he wraps you in it, pulling the soft fabric snug around your damp body.

"Gotcha," he murmurs, fingers brushing your cheek.

He offers his hand, and you take it, stepping out carefully. The bathroom tile is cool against your feet, and you shiver, but it's not from the cold.

Because holy shit.

Your eyes catch on him—the broad chest, water sliding down sculpted abs, and then... yeah. Your gaze drops. And even soft, his dick is huge. Like, what the fuck. Thick, heavy, resting against his thigh, and God, it's pretty.

Veins running along the length, flushed at the tip, and that happy trail above it? Dark, perfect, practically begging you to lick your way down. The kind of sight that makes your mouth water, heat curling low in your belly.

Your brain short circuits for a second, and all you can think is how the fuck did that fit inside you? No wonder you felt stretched to the brink, stuffed full, wrecked. God, he ruined you.

He smirks, noticing your stare, but says nothing, just grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist. Barely. It hangs low on his hips, dangerously close to slipping, teasingly casual.

"C'mon, baby," he murmurs, guiding you back to the bedroom.

The sheets are rumpled, still bearing evidence of what he did to you, and heat rushes to your cheeks. He tosses open his closet, rummaging for a second before pulling out a t-shirt.

"Here," he says, grinning, "this'll do."

It's worn soft, the fabric faded but smelling like him, that clean scent, mixed with cologne and something uniquely Jason. Your head spins, heart fluttering.

He gently dries you off, hands warm as he rubs the towel over your arms, shoulders, legs, taking careful time with your still sensitive skin. Then he slips the shirt over your head, and it swallows you whole.

Like, drowns you. The hem hits mid thigh, the neckline wide, slipping off your shoulder. The sleeves hang loose, practically devouring your arms.

Jason leans back, takes one look at you, and laughs. "Jesus," he grins, "you look like you're wearin' a damn dress."

You huff, slapping his chest. Which, of course, does absolutely nothing.

He's built like a fucking wall. Solid. Unmoving.

"Ouch," you deadpan, "my hand's broken now."

He catches your wrist easily, grinning, and then pulls you into him. His arms wrap around you, big hands sliding beneath the hem of the oversized shirt, and yep, they go straight for your ass.

He cups it, kneading shamelessly.

You huff, "You're obsessed."

"Yeah," he says, zero shame, grin widening. "I am."

Jason grabs a pair of boxers, slides them on, the waistband snapping against his hips. He picks up both towels, tossing them into the laundry basket.

"Hang on," he says, waving you off as you yawn. "These sheets are trashed."

You flop face first onto the bed anyway, muffled, "Don't care. Tired."

"Yeah, I know," he grins, peeling the sheets off on his side.

They're ... yeah. Destroyed. Wrinkled, soaked, and holy shit, he really did a number on you. You roll to the side, watching him wrestle with the fitted sheet like it's personally offended him.

"Need help?" you mumble.

"No," he grunts, "I got it. Fucking—goddamn thing—"

He finally manages, cursing under his breath, and throws on fresh ones. Then, without warning, he turns, grins, and scoops you up so he can fit the sheet on your side too.

"Jason!" you squeal, legs kicking weakly, "I can—"

"Shhh," he teases, "you love it."

He plops you onto the fresh sheets, and you bounce, letting out a giggly little noise. "Asshole."

"Yup," he agrees cheerfully, dropping down next to you. His arm snakes around your waist, dragging you in, and you go willingly, curling against his chest.

"God," you yawn again, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

His skin's warm, smells like him—that clean soap mixed with his natural heat. One arm drapes over his waist, your fingers splaying over solid muscle.

His hand finds the back of your head, gentle, fingers threading through your damp hair.

"You okay?" he asks softly, voice rumbling in your ear.

You nod, murmuring, "Mhmm... just tired."

"Sleep, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You melt, mumbling something incoherent, and he chuckles, pulling you closer.

And as you drift off, Jason just... lays there. Holds you. He wasn't expecting this. Not the clingy post sex cuddling, not you nuzzling into him like he's safe, like you trust him.

Not the way his chest feels tight, not in a bad way, just... fuck. He's not soft. Not really. Not supposed to be. But you curl into him, and it's like his body knows what to do, like holding you is instinct.

You're small against him, your breathing evening out, little puffs of air against his neck. And shit, he could get used to this.

Your leg hooks over his, possessive even in sleep, and he smirks, shaking his head.

"You're somethin' else," he murmurs, so quiet you don't hear.

But yeah... he's already all fucking in.

P. S: I didn't forget about your requests, guys. I have the Nightwing one you suggested, imma post it these days 🤭 I'm just a slut for both Dick and Jason rn ✋🏻

[cloudyluun]

Soft Spot

Summary: Harry Styles is the world’s most effortlessly cocky bastard in public. But behind closed doors? He’s soft for one person, her. Their love is private, sacred, the only thing that’s ever truly been his. But the internet is relentless, the rumors won’t stop, and she starts to wonder if she’ll ever fit into his world. Just when she’s about to pull away, Harry makes sure she never doubts it again. AKA: Soft (but also possessive) boyfriend Harry? Check. Jealous, protective, doesn’t-take-shit Harry? Also check. A public declaration, viral paparazzi moments, and one very necessary smut scene? You already know.

A/N: This fic is based on two requests (this one and this one from @dipmeinhoneyh) that fit so perfectly together I had no choice but to make it a full story. I hope you love it, I hope it makes you feral, and I hope you leave this feeling at least 10% more in love with Harry Styles than you already were. Also, if you ever see a man carrying all your bags through an airport while wearing your shirt?? Marry him immediately.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: 

Smut (obviously)—possessive, praise-heavy, SOFT but also FILTHY

Harry being the most protective, doting, airport-sherpa boyfriend alive

Jealousy and minor confrontation (because someone was dumb enough to question her worth)

Public scrutiny and social media toxicity (but don’t worry, he shuts that shit down)

Excessive amounts of boyfriend fluff (back rubs, forehead kisses, and “mine” moments galore)

Did I mention the smut? Because THE SMUT.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Harry Styles was a menace.

Everyone knew it—especially the media. He wasn’t just the biggest name in music, he was also a nightmare to interview. He had little patience for industry bullshit, answered questions with nothing but a smirk or a sip of his drink, and rarely—if ever—gave the press what they wanted.

At this point, journalists had learned to come prepared when sitting across from him. They needed strategy, a solid game plan, and maybe even a shot of whiskey beforehand. Because Harry? Harry made it difficult.

And God, did he enjoy it.

The first clip that went viral was from a BBC interview.

The journalist was older, seasoned. She’d been in the game for decades and knew how to handle difficult personalities. Or at least, she thought she did.

The interview had been going fine—as fine as an interview with Harry Styles could be. He’d leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, looking like he owned the place. Dressed in a half-unbuttoned silk shirt and tailored trousers, he was a picture of effortless arrogance.

Then she asked, “Do you think you’re difficult?”

Harry blinked. Didn’t move for a second. Then—slowly, deliberately—he picked up his drink, took a long sip, and held eye contact the entire time.

The silence stretched.

And stretched.

The journalist swallowed.

Finally, Harry licked his lips, tilted his head, and asked, “D’you think I care?”

The second clip was worse.

A different interview, a different day, same energy.

Harry was sitting in front of a panel of radio hosts, arms crossed, tattoos peeking out from under the loose sleeves of his sweater. The conversation had been moving along at a leisurely pace, touching on his tour, his latest album, the usual surface-level stuff.

Then one of the hosts leaned forward, smug, thinking he had the upper hand.

“So, tell us, Harry. What’s the song ‘Soft Spot’ about?”

Harry, who had been absentmindedly fiddling with one of his rings, paused. He exhaled through his nose, the barest hint of amusement curling at the corners of his mouth.

Then—without hesitation—he shrugged. “Dunno. Just a song.”

The hosts groaned in frustration.

The internet? Ate it up.

Edits of him smirking, of him dodging questions with effortless ease, flooded Twitter and TikTok. People captioned them with things like “This man is impossible” and “Certified menace behavior”.

The general consensus?

Harry Styles didn’t answer questions unless he wanted to.

Until someone asked about her.

It happened during a late-night talk show appearance.

The studio was dimly lit, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. Harry was perched on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, fingers playing absentmindedly with the chain around his neck. He was half-paying attention, answering questions with his usual brand of casual indifference.

Then the host, a sharp-eyed comedian known for catching celebrities off guard, grinned. “Alright, Harry. I have a question I think the people really want to know.”

Harry didn’t react much. Just arched a slow, lazy brow. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been seen with the same girl a lot lately…”

For the first time all night, something shifted.

Subtly. Almost imperceptibly.

But it was there, the way his fingers paused against the metal of his chain, the way his shoulders tensed, just slightly, the way his mouth twitched, like he was already biting back a smirk.

The audience leaned forward.

The internet, watching from their screens, held their breath.

Harry tilted his head, slowly. His lips parted, there it was. That signature smirk, the one that sent fans into a frenzy.

“Yeah?”

The host grinned, seeing the shift. “Care to comment?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—Harry grinned. Not his usual mocking, I’m-so-over-this smirk. A real grin. The kind that made his dimples crease, the kind that softened his otherwise sharp edges.

His fingers tapped once, twice against his thigh.

Then, he looked directly into the camera, his voice dropping just a fraction.

“She’s great.”

The studio lost it.

The audience roared—cheers, gasps, the works. Twitter exploded before the show even finished airing. Within minutes, #ShesGreat was trending worldwide.

Fans analyzed the clip from every angle:

The way his face softened.

The way his body language changed.

The fact that he—HARRY STYLES, NOTORIOUS MENACE—HAD ACTUALLY ANSWERED.

He didn’t say her name. Didn’t confirm anything outright. But the shift in him? The softness in his voice?

That was all people needed.

It was real.

And the world wasn’t ready.

Y/N wasn’t famous.

She wasn’t an actress, a model, a singer, or an influencer. There was no glamorous past, no viral moment that put her on the map. No high-profile connections, no childhood dream of Hollywood stardom.

She was just a girl with a normal life—one that, up until a year ago, had been blissfully simple.

Her days had always followed a rhythm.

Morning coffee at her favorite little café, tucked into a corner booth with a book. Work, which she genuinely enjoyed—something steady, something real, something that felt like hers. Drinks with friends on Fridays, lazy Sundays spent in oversized sweaters, grocery shopping in peace without having to worry about cameras or strangers whispering her name.

She had a routine. A quiet, predictable world.

Then Harry Styles had walked into it.

And ruined everything.

She still didn’t know how it had happened.

It was easy to pinpoint the beginning—the first time their paths had crossed, the first time she’d realized that Harry fucking Styles wasn’t just a name on a magazine cover, but a person with thoughts and moods and an irritatingly sharp wit.

But she never expected it to go anywhere.

At first, he was just a guy who flirted too much.

Then he was a guy who made her laugh.

Then he was the guy she couldn’t stop thinking about.

And somehow—without her even noticing—he became hers.

It had been over a year now. Twelve whole months of him.

Twelve months of stolen moments, whispered conversations in the dark, secret rendezvous that always ended with his lips on her skin and his voice murmuring, “Just us, love. That’s all that matters.”

Twelve months of hiding.

Because Harry? Harry was obsessed with keeping her safe.

"It’s our life, not theirs," he told her once. "You don’t owe them shit."

She’d been curled up in his lap when he said it, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over the tattoos on his arm.

She had been scared that night—really, truly scared.

Her phone had blown up with messages from friends, all linking her to articles and Twitter threads dissecting her existence. Speculation had spread like wildfire after one blurry photo of them together made it online. Nothing too obvious—just a candid shot of her walking ahead of him, their fingers barely brushing.

But it was enough.

Enough for people to start digging.

Within hours, her social media had been flooded. Comments, theories, strangers demanding to know who the hell she was and why she thought she deserved him.

She had wanted to throw her phone into the ocean.

Instead, she had buried her face into the curve of Harry’s neck, inhaling the scent of him—warm skin and expensive cologne and something inherently his. Something safe.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she had admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s grip on her had tightened immediately. Protective. Possessive.

“You don’t have to,” he’d murmured. “Not like that. Not the way they want.”

And that was how they lived. No red carpets. No public declarations. No letting the world in. Just them, in their little bubble—hidden away in hotel rooms and dimly lit apartments, in long drives with the windows down, in whispered confessions at three in the morning.

It was beautiful. It was safe.

But Y/N knew—deep down, in the quiet moments when she was alone with her thoughts—that the world wouldn’t stop trying to tear it apart.

Because it wasn’t just them anymore. It hadn’t been for a while.

And no matter how fiercely Harry tried to protect her from it, the outside world was still watching.

Still waiting.

Still hungry for cracks in the foundation.

They didn’t understand him.

The world saw one version of Harry Styles.

The public version. The one who didn’t give a single shit what anyone thought of him. The one who strolled into interviews with that lazy, half-lidded smirk, sprawled out in his chair like he had all the time in the world, deliberately giving them nothing just to piss them off.

“Harry, is it true you walked out of your last meeting with the label?”

He barely blinked. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Is it also true that you—”

A slow sip of his drink. A deliberate pause.

Then, just for fun, a cocked eyebrow. “Dunno. You tell me.”

Click. Click. Click. Cameras flashing. Headlines already writing themselves.

Harry Styles: Rock’s Most Arrogant Asshole.

Harry Styles—Too Famous To Care?

Harry Styles Gives Zero Fucks About Literally Everything.

It was a game. One he didn’t mind playing.

Because the more they focused on the persona, the less they looked too closely at what really mattered.

The less they dug into his real life.

The less they found her.

Because private Harry?

A completely different person.

Private Harry sent texts like, “be home in 5”, because he knew she worried. Because he knew she’d never say it out loud, but if he was running late, she’d start pacing the kitchen, chewing at her bottom lip, imagining the worst.

Private Harry stole her hand cream and chapstick just to smell like her when she wasn’t around.

Private Harry carried her bags through airports like they weighed nothing, insisting every time, “Not letting you lift a damn thing, love.”

Private Harry curled around her in his sleep, face buried against the curve of her neck, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along her spine until he drifted off—breathing easier when she was there.

No one saw that Harry.

And he preferred it that way.

But every once in a while, the world got a glimpse.

And when they did, it fucking broke the internet.

One moment in particular had gone insanely viral.

It had been a bad day—one of those relentless, aggressive paparazzi swarms outside a studio in L.A.

Harry had already been in a foul mood—late for a meeting, running on three hours of sleep, coming off a night of back-to-back phone calls that had left him rubbing his temples in frustration.

The cameras had been waiting for him the second he stepped out the door.

“Harry! Over here!”

“Harry, how’s the new album?”

“Harry, what’s the deal with the tour delay?”

He ignored them. Didn’t even look up.

Then someone got too close—flashed a camera right in his face, nearly knocking into him.

And that was it.

He snapped.

“Fuck off, yeah?” Sharp, cutting, the words slicing through the air like a whip. His jaw locked, his body tense.

Paparazzi shuffled back, startled.

They knew his reputation.

They’d seen him do this before.

They thought that was the whole show.

Until Y/N appeared.

She had been standing a few feet behind him, waiting.

The second he turned and saw her, everything about him changed.

His scowl softened. His hands, which had been clenched into fists? Relaxed.

And in front of dozens of cameras, in front of the very people he’d just been spitting fire at, Harry immediately reached for her—a steadying touch to her back, a soft tilt of his head. “Y’alright, love?”

Quiet. Gentle. Intimate.

As if nothing else existed in that moment but her.

The paparazzi?

Fucking shook.

The clip blew up online within hours.

Side-by-side comparisons flooded Twitter:

🚨 Harry Styles telling the press to fuck off vs. Harry Styles turning into the softest human alive the second his girlfriend walks into frame. 🚨

Memes. Reactions. Fans dissecting the exact millisecond his demeanor changed.

WHO IS SHE?!

HOW DOES SHE HAVE HIM WRAPPED AROUND HER FINGER LIKE THAT?!

The discourse was endless.

And Harry?

Didn’t say a damn word about it.

Because as long as they were talking about that, they weren’t looking for more.

They weren’t digging deeper.

And that meant she was still safe.

For now.

But the internet was relentless.

Because the thing about secrets—especially ones that belong to someone as famous as Harry Styles—is that they don’t stay secrets for long.

And when people suspect even the smallest sliver of something?

They become obsessed.

It started with something small.

Something that, to anyone else, would have seemed like nothing at all.

Harry had been spotted leaving a café in London, his sleeves rolled up, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, a coffee cup in one hand.

But that wasn’t what fans noticed.

No.

What they noticed was the bracelet on his wrist.

A thin, woven band. Nothing fancy, nothing designer.

And—most importantly—not his.

The theories exploded.

GUYS. HARRY’S WEARING A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET. HAS HE EVER WORN ONE BEFORE? NO. WHO MADE IT?!

Look at the colors. Do we think there’s a meaning?

I AM SO SERIOUS THIS IS A HANDMADE BRACELET SOMEONE IS IN LOVE WITH HIM AND IT IS NOT ME

WHO THE FUCK IS SHEEEE?

There was no confirmation.

No proof.

But that didn’t stop people from digging.

Because once the internet smelled a mystery, they wouldn’t let it go.

Then came the coffee shop photo.

Blurry. Grainy. Taken at just the right angle to be nearly useless—but not quite.

Because despite the bad quality, despite the distance, despite everything, one thing was clear.

He wasn’t alone.

There was a girl across from him.

A girl who wasn’t famous.

A girl who was sitting comfortably in his presence, laughing at something he said, one hand wrapped around her mug, the other resting—casually, easily—on the table between them.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Too real.

The internet lost its collective mind.

HARRY STYLES SPOTTED WITH THE MYSTERY GIRL IN LONDON—NEW GIRLFRIEND?!

HARRY DATING SOMEONE? WHO IS SHE?!

WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE. WHO IS SHE.

I KNOW WHO SHE IS @yourusername!!

The photo was picked apart frame by frame.

Theories flooded TikTok and Twitter.

Some people were excited—because Harry in love?! Soft domestic boyfriend Harry?! They’d been dreaming of this for years.

But not everyone was happy.

Because some people… some people wanted access.

Some people wanted control.

Some people wanted to destroy anything that felt too real.

It started small.

A few comments.

A few tweets.

A few people saying she wasn’t good enough.

That she was using him.

That she was just another clout chaser who would milk this for all it was worth.

Then the DMs started.

Vicious. Personal. Cruel.

You’ll never be good enough for him.

You’re ruining his career.

No one wants you here.

He’ll leave you just like he’s left all the others.

And she told herself that she wouldn’t let it get to her.

That it didn’t matter.

That these people didn’t know her.

That as long as Harry was with her—really with her—nothing else mattered.

But it wasn’t just online anymore.

Because now, when she stepped outside, she swore she could feel the eyes on her.

Now, when she walked into her favorite coffee shop, she hesitated—half-expecting someone to recognize her.

Now, when she reached for her phone, her hands shook.

She started pulling away. Just a little.

Stopped texting first.

Stopped answering right away.

Stopped leaning into his touch as freely as she had before.

And Harry—because of course Harry noticed—tilted his head at her one night when she turned away from his kiss, his brow furrowing, his thumb tracing soft circles against her wrist.

“Alright, love?”

Her chest ached.

Because he was looking at her like that.

Like he knew.

Like he could see right through her.

Like he was already worried.

She forced a smile. Pressed a quick, barely-there kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

And lied.

The industry party was a mistake.

Y/N had known it the second they walked in.

The air inside the private venue was thick with expensive perfume, whiskey, and the kind of arrogance that could only come from people who knew they were untouchable.

The laughter was too loud. The conversations too sharp, dripping with faux warmth and hidden daggers.

She felt out of place immediately.

It wasn’t her world.

It never had been.

And standing next to Harry—Harry, who fit into this world so effortlessly, who could command attention just by existing, who seemed to belong in a way she never could—only made it worse.

He hadn’t let go of her hand since they arrived.

Had kept her close, thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles, squeezing her fingers in silent reassurance every few minutes, as if he could feel the tension in her shoulders, sense the way she was holding her breath.

But no amount of grounding touches could change the fact that she didn’t belong here.

That much became even more obvious when the wrong person decided to open their mouth.

He was a producer.

Smarmy. Arrogant. The kind of man who loved the sound of his own voice and had been in the industry long enough to think he could get away with saying anything.

And for some reason—maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was just sheer audacity—he chose her as his next target.

“Didn’t think this was your type, Harry.”

Y/N froze.

Harry stiffened next to her.

The producer took a slow sip of his drink, eyes flickering over her like she was something to be inspected.

“Quiet little thing, huh? Thought rockstars liked more excitement.”

Her stomach dropped.

It wasn’t just the words.

It was the way he said them.

The smirk. The condescension. The absolute certainty that he was untouchable, that he could say whatever the fuck he wanted without consequence.

Y/N shrank back before she could stop herself.

And that was when Harry snapped.

He didn’t move right away.

Didn’t react instantly.

Just went completely, unnervingly still.

A muscle jumped in his jaw.

His fingers—still tangled with hers—tightened.

And then—slowly, deliberately—he turned.

And stepped right into the guy’s space.

Harry Styles didn’t have to raise his voice to be intimidating.

Didn’t have to yell, didn’t have to make a scene.

All he had to do was look at someone the right way.

And the producer? He knew.

He fucking knew.

Because suddenly, the confidence wavered.

The smirk faded.

The hand holding his drink trembled just slightly.

“She’s worth more than you ever will be,” Harry said, voice low, icy, laced with so much venom that Y/N shivered.

And then—as if to drive the point home—his hand found her waist, pulled her against him, shielded her from the world with nothing but the sheer force of his presence.

It was a warning.

A claim.

And everyone in the room fucking knew it.

He didn’t let go of her for the rest of the night.

Didn’t stop touching her.

Didn’t stop checking on her.

And when they finally left—when they were finally alone—he held her even closer.

She should have felt safe.

Should have felt protected.

But instead, something heavy settled in her chest.

Because the truth was, this wasn’t just about one asshole at a party.

It was about all of it.

The industry. The fans. The internet. The constant feeling of not being enough.

And maybe… maybe they were right.

Maybe she really wasn’t enough for him.

She wasn’t going to say it.

She wasn’t.

But then Harry—still holding her, still watching her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—brushed his lips against her forehead, whispered, “You alright, love?”

And it just—it broke her.

Her breath hitched.

And suddenly, she was blurting it out before she could stop herself.

“Maybe they’re right,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Harry froze.

“Maybe I’m not enough for you.”

His entire body tensed.

Like she had just physically hit him.

Like the words had physically hurt him.

“Don’t you ever say that again.”

It wasn’t a plea.

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

His hands framed her face, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

And when she did—when she really looked at him—she almost couldn’t handle what she saw.

Because he was devastated.

Shattered.

“Don’t you ever—” His breath shuddered, his forehead pressing against hers. “—say that again.”

She swallowed. “Harry—”

“No.” His grip tightened, like he was afraid she’d slip away if he let go. “You belong with me. Here. Always.” His lips brushed hers, desperate, aching. “And I don’t care what anyone else says.”

She closed her eyes.

Breathed him in.

Let him hold her together, piece by piece.

Because if Harry Styles believed she belonged—

Maybe—just maybe—she could believe it, too.

The storm hadn’t passed.

Not really.

The world still had its claws in them, still watched their every move, still dissected every glance, every touch, every fleeting moment caught on camera.

But Harry… Harry never wavered.

Not once.

Not even when the headlines got uglier.

Not even when the whispers turned into full-blown speculation.

Not even when she started pulling back again, flinching at every flash of a camera, hesitating before reaching for his hand in public, terrified of giving them more fuel.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

But he didn’t push.

Didn’t force her to talk about it.

Didn’t tell her that she was still enough, still his, still the only thing in his life that mattered more than anything.

No.

Harry Styles didn’t waste his breath on words.

He showed her.

And the whole damn world saw it.

Madison Square Garden.

A sold-out crowd.

Phones up. Lights blinding.

It was a big night—bigger than most.

The kind of night that would be talked about for years, the kind of performance that would live forever in grainy fan videos, breathless social media posts, and blurry concert footage.

And she wasn’t supposed to be there.

Hadn’t planned on coming.

Had told Harry she’d stay home—avoid the cameras, avoid the crowd, avoid the possibility of being dragged into something she never wanted to be a part of.

But somehow—somehow—she found herself standing in the wings, heart in her throat, hands curled into fists at her sides as she watched him command the stage.

It was impossible not to be captivated.

Impossible not to watch the way he moved, the way he laughed into the mic between songs, the way he glowed under the stage lights.

He was in his element.

He belonged here.

And she—

Well.

She was just trying to stay invisible.

But then—

He turned.

Looked right at her.

And everything stopped.

Because suddenly—mid-show, mid-crowd, mid-fucking-Madison-Square-Garden—Harry Styles did something he never did.

He talked about her.

On stage.

For the world to hear.

“This one’s for someone who thinks she doesn’t belong in my world,” he said, voice steady, eyes never leaving hers.

The crowd screamed.

A roar—loud and deafening and completely unaware of what was actually happening.

“But she is my world.”

Her breath caught.

And then—before she could process what was happening—

He started playing.

A new song.

Unreleased.

Just for her.

And the lyrics—oh, the fucking lyrics.

They were filled with pieces of them.

Little inside jokes woven into verses, fragments of whispered late-night confessions hidden in melodies, the kind of details that only she would understand.

A love letter.

A declaration.

A warning to the world that she was his and he was hers, and that nothing—not the industry, not the headlines, not the relentless scrutiny of millions—could change that.

The internet lost its mind.

Clips went viral within minutes.

Fan theories exploded.

But none of it mattered.

Not really.

Because in that moment—in the middle of everything, in front of everyone, under the brightest damn spotlight possible—

It was just them.

And she belonged.

She didn’t hear the rest of the set.

Not really.

Not past the pounding of her heart, not past the static in her brain, not past the overwhelming realization that he had just done that.

For her.

For everyone to hear.

The screaming of the crowd blurred into white noise. The energy in the arena buzzed around her, the walls seeming to pulse with the sound of thousands of people still losing their minds.

But she couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t do anything except stare at the stage where he still stood, grinning like he hadn’t just shattered her entire world in the best possible way.

Because Harry Styles didn’t do things like this.

He dodged questions in interviews.

Shrugged off rumors.

Gave the media nothing to work with.

And yet, tonight—tonight, he had given them everything.

And she had no idea how to breathe through it.

Somewhere along the way, her fingers had curled into the fabric of her sweater, clutching at herself like it might help her stay grounded. Like she wasn’t seconds away from dissolving into nothing but feelings.

Because she knew what this meant.

Knew what it would cause.

Knew that by morning, headlines would be flooded with theories, and her name—or at least her existence—would be dragged into the light again.

But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Because he’d said she was his world.

He’d said she belonged.

And maybe—just maybe—she believed him.

She was still in a daze when the show ended.

Still stuck in her own head when the lights in the arena dimmed, when the roaring of the crowd turned to scattered cheers and fading echoes of his name.

She barely noticed the way people moved around her.

Security, crew members, the distant hum of conversation—it all faded into the background.

Until—

“There you are.”

Her breath caught.

And then he was there.

Harry.

Still sweaty, still breathless from the high of performing, still looking at her like she was the only thing in the entire fucking world.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Didn’t ask if she’d liked the song.

Didn’t joke about how she’d better have been paying attention.

Didn’t do anything except close the space between them, hands gripping her face, lips pressing against her forehead, breath warm and shaky against her skin.

And she—

God.

She melted.

Because she could feel it—everything he wasn’t saying, everything he had already said on that stage.

The weight of it settled in her chest, so thick she thought she might break apart.

And then—so quietly she almost missed it—

“Tell me you’re staying.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Because he knew.

Of course he fucking knew.

Knew how much she had struggled with this.

Knew how many times she had almost walked away.

Knew how much she loved him, but how terrified she was of all of this.

And yet—

His voice was steady.

Not desperate.

Not pleading.

Just… certain.

Like he already knew the answer.

Like he already knew her.

And maybe he did.

Because before she could second-guess herself—before she could let doubt creep in, before she could convince herself she wasn’t strong enough for this—

She nodded.

Just once.

And Harry fucking collapsed against her.

Exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for months.

Arms wrapping around her like he was afraid she might disappear.

Lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was anything but careful.

Because it wasn’t a question anymore.

Wasn’t a hesitation or a what if or an I don’t know.

It was real.

It was them.

And she was staying.

His hotel room was dark, save for the soft glow from the city outside.

But she barely noticed.

Because the only thing that mattered—the only thing that existed in this moment—was him.

Harry.

Pressed against her, warm and solid, breath still uneven from everything that had led to this.

His hands were everywhere.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Just certain.

Slow, teasing touches down her spine.

Fingertips tracing the dip of her waist.

Lips skimming along her throat, up to the shell of her ear, where his voice was low, husky, full of intent.

"Gonna remind you who you belong to, yeah?"

Her breath hitched.

Because fuck.

She’d heard that voice before—cocky, teasing, full of mischief when he was playing up his charm.

But this?

This was different.

This was a promise.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping, needing—but he wasn’t in any rush.

Because Harry didn’t just take.

He worshipped.

And she felt it.

In the way his hands moved over her skin—slow, deliberate.

In the way he kissed her—deep, devastating.

Like he had all the time in the world.

Like she was the only thing in it.

His mouth found the curve of her shoulder.

The dip between her ribs.

The inside of her wrist, where her pulse thrummed beneath his lips.

Every inch of her.

And with every kiss, every touch, came a whisper.

"You're everything, love."

"Perfect for me."

"Mine."

Her face burned, but he wouldn’t let her look away.

Wouldn’t let her shrink away from the way he saw her.

Because when she got shy—when she tried to hide—

He caught her chin, thumb tracing her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze.

And fuck, that look.

Like she was something sacred.

Like she was something he could never get enough of.

"Look at you, taking me so well."

Her breath shuddered out of her.

And God, he knew what he was doing.

The filthy praise, the way he held her like she was precious, the possessiveness in his voice—

It was too much and not enough, all at once.

And he didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop until she was falling apart beneath him, gasping his name, hands tangled in his hair, nails raking down his back.

Didn’t stop until she was completely his.

And then—when the world had settled again, when their breathing was slow and tangled together, when she was half-asleep in his arms

Harry took care of her.

Of course he did.

Because he always did.

Pressed a kiss to her temple.

Murmured soft things against her skin as he cleaned her up, as he wrapped her up in him.

Strong arms pulling her close, keeping her warm, keeping her safe.

Only ever his.

And just before sleep pulled her under—

Just before her body fully relaxed against his—

She heard it.

Soft.

Low.

Meant just for her.

"Love you, you know that?"

And she did.

God, she did.

But what really got her—what really made her heart ache in the best, most devastating way—was that he never said it like he needed her to say it back.

Never said it like he was waiting for some kind of validation.

He said it like a fact.

Like the sun would rise tomorrow.

Like the sky was blue.

Like her being his was something permanent.

And maybe it was.

The airport was a nightmare.

The second they stepped inside, cameras started flashing, voices shouting—Harry! Over here! Is that your girlfriend?! Harry, can you confirm—

He ignored them.

Of course he did.

Didn’t even flinch.

Just kept walking, kept his hand firmly on the small of her back, kept her close.

And he was carrying everything.

Her suitcase.

Her tote bag.

Her carry-on.

Even the stupid travel pillow she’d nearly forgotten in the car.

Meanwhile, she was strolling beside him, completely unbothered, sipping her coffee like she didn’t have a single care in the world.

The contrast? Insane.

And the internet lost its mind.

The tweets came fast.

@stylesupdates: HARRY CARRYING EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HER BAGS WHILE SHE JUST DRINKS HER COFFEE??? SIR. YOU ARE WHIPPED.

@hslotlover: HE'S WEARING HER SHIRT (it’s posted on her Instagram @yourusername) AGAIN I CAN’T DO THIS TODAY.

Because, yeah.

He was.

It was an old, slightly oversized tee—hers.

The one she always stole from his drawer. The one she wore to bed whenever he wasn’t around.

And now?

Now he was wearing it in public.

On purpose.

Like some kind of quiet, undeniable statement.

Like a middle finger to the world.

But the real moment—the one that cemented it all—was the photo.

A blurry, candid shot someone snapped from across the terminal.

Harry, walking ahead, death glaring at the paparazzi.

Her, right behind him, looking effortlessly soft, untouchable.

And the caption?

"He’s still an asshole, and she’s still his soft spot."

And fuck.

If that wasn’t the truest thing anyone had ever said.

Because the world still didn’t get it.

But he didn’t care.

Because she was his.

And that was enough.

That had always been enough.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4 @harry2121 @hopefullimaginer123 @fangirl509east @uncassettodiricordi @2601-london @zbaby @harryscherries28 @michellekstyles

[cuntphoric]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ masterlist

satoru gojo

big stretch spiderman!gojo webs you up mwahs your tits video games after sex making out with rival!gojo gojo sucks tits when he's bored gojo and geto overstimming your tits desperate gojo deepthroating you wearing gojo's blindfold while he plays with your folds gojo masturbates over your photos overstimulation with gojo praise & degrade gojo loooves edging you just to see you beg shower sex

what a game threesome gojo's hands good kisser gojo gojo loves you and your dick sucking skills cumplay small or large he's good gojo misses your titties and fucks you later on softdom!gojo loves worshipping gojo IS the present male lactation LOL bad time? geto x gojo x you first time sucking him aftermath

happy trail gojo gojo's dick is pretty he knows how to use it gojo's dick hcs getting off to your reactions giving your bf gojo head gojo loves missionary bf gojo overstims you A LOT while eating you out tits, ass, or thighs? this man fucks hard aftercare with gojo making out & tits gojo loves getting praised so he'll do the favor right back gojo would not complain eating you out for a long time

bratty gojo mirror sex spooning sex late christmas shopping fucking i feel like gojo's top five positions on a certain day would be this subby gojo handcuffed, laying on his back as you ride his face pegging gojo gojo with a pussy hanging by a thread he's all yours i miss gojo ☹ surprise fluff post sub!satoru thoughts another fluff post!! bathroom fun (this can go for really any character but i thought of him while writing it LOL)

actor!reader and actor!gojo has some fun in her dressing room prof!gojo and collegestudent!reader gets it going oooonnn indian!reader and gojo fluff he loves you baddd gojo + handjob heros always gets the job done - spiderman!gojo old draft i forgot to post idk... teasing him i guess IDK WHAT TO NAME THIS???

suguru geto

gojo and geto overstimming your tits bad time? geto x gojo x you pegging geto calm mean man tongue piercing suguru 1/3 tongue piercing suguru 2/3 tongue piercing suguru 3/3

kiyotaka ijichi

dry humping & making out ijichi + handjob

hiromi higuruma

higurama loves you and your cum!

takuma ino

soft dom ino my birthday gift to my birthday girl

ryomen sukuna

fem!sukuna degradation

toji fushiguro

small titty worship toji just needs to eat out chubby!reader

choso kamo

tongue piercing choso 1/3 tongue piercing choso 2/3 tongue piercing choso 3/3 a silent mean man choso + handjob

kento nanami

polite teasing nanami (i can't write mean nanami it hurts me) nanami + handjob pregnant reader fluff

shoko ieiri

impatient girl ! utahime x you x shoko shoko loves using her strap on you

utahime iori

impatient girl ! utahime x you x shoko more!!

p links

gojo p links #1

smaus

you pretend to be mad & they offer themselves as a peace offering. you win. your text convos with gojo satoru

[heavenbarnes]

I used to date an older guy (like mid 40s) a few years back and I always got stupidly turned on when he fixed stuff around his house?? Like, he just knew hot to do it and did it. No googling, just him and his tools. Feel like it would fit somewhere in your older bf Simon stuff.

god love a fully capable “fuck it i’ll do it” type of man 🫶🏼

you know that your older bf!simon doesn’t believe in hiring tradespeople for a service.

“why would i pay someone to fuck about in my home?”

“they’re not fucking about, si! they’d be fixing the sink”

“i’ll do it”

you have no doubt that simon was more than capable of fixing things around the house but you also wanted him relaxing when he was home.

turns out he couldn’t relax at the thought of another man doing something for you.

so you let him do it, you threw your hands up and waved your white tea towel in defeat as you heard him banging around in the garage for tools.

hearing the faint sounds of grunting and the occasional swear word coming from the bathroom, you thought it might pay to go and see how he was getting on.

fucking hell.

simon was on his back, arms stretched up above him as his hands dwarfed the pipe they were wrapped around. t-shirt riding up, lines of his stomach leading right to his belt, knees bent and boots firmly planted on the floor, you could honestly just-

“oi, you gonna’ stare or help me?”

now how the fuck?

“your heads in the cupboard, how did you know-“

“i always know where you are, pass me the wrench”

crouching down beside him, you handed it over and stayed down there to watch him work. scarred knuckles wrapped around the handle of the tool, other palm flat against the base of the sink so you could see the veins.

he was something else entirely.

“how d’you know how to do all this?”

“taught m’self, come hold this”

you reached over to replace where his palm was so he could have both hands back. “but why? surely other people don’t learn all this?”

“other people don’t care about their sweet’art not having to lift a finger- move your finger for me”

the more you stretched to hold the sink, the more you felt yourself losing traction with it. naturally, simon noticed before you did.

“y’need to get closer, cm’ere”

tools landing to the side of him, two large hands plucked you up till you were dropped in his lap. precarious situation but you couldn’t deny the sink was a lot easier to reach.

you stayed like that, letting simon work in peace as you enjoyed your view. honestly, he could invite you to the end of the world and you’d just be happy to hold his hand.

one hand splayed out on his chest, the other holding the sink, you suddenly felt a tickle forming at the end of your nose. before you knew it, you were pulling your hand back to scratch it- the one holding the sink.

you panicked, realising it could very well land on simon’s head. but it didn’t, it stayed completely still. face screwing up, you leant in again to give the sink a nudge only to find out it was totally fixed.

“what the hell, si? why’d you have me doing all that?”

you saw the smirk on his face as he flashed a look over at you. suddenly, you realised you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

the hand that didn’t have the wrench came out to give you a pat on the side of your hip.

“c’mon sweet’art, i can’t get anything outta’ this?”

[gumii-bearr]

alt!megumi gently waking you from your sleep just to fuck you because you just looked so fucking adorable with your hair disheveled across his pillow and your lips slightly parted as you snore softly. him pulling your lacy panties down your legs while you whine softly, still half asleep and lifting your hips to help him and he just strokes your cheek with his thumb “just rest, baby. let me do the work”. and him lifting your knees over his hips and when he finally plunges into you, you’re so tight he has to stop himself from cumming instantly.

alt!megumi lifting his pretty tatted hand up to your throat and squeezing, your hands wrapping around his forearm as you whine and cry, the feeling of his cold rings (that he always wears) against your hot skin making you dizzy.

alt!megumi pulling his shirt off and he looks so fucking hot with his body adorned in tattoos and his hair all messy around his face. and he looks even more beautiful when he’s biting the inside of his cheek and willing himself not to cum because you’re just sucking him in and clamping down on him so tight “relax, princess. you’re so tight”.

alt!megumi rolling you onto your stomach and pushing you further up the bed, his hand pressing on your neck from behind while his other hand bruises your hip from how hard he’s pulling you back onto his cock to meet his thrusts— good LORD

(can you tell i’m listening to chase atlantic?)

[berritart]

the walls were so thin in your shared apartment you didn't even realize that your roommate vi could hear everything. the faint sounds of squelching, pants and whines, even her name was seeping though the wall into the hallway.

it was 11:46 pm. nothing could be heard in the campus apartments but the broken air conditioning buzzing, and in your room specifically, your broken moans. you knew what got you so worked up and it's embarrassing to admit. vi invited you to her basketball game, nothing serious, just to be friendly to you, her roommate. once you got there and the game started you couldn't take your eyes off vi. her face contorted in annoyance because of the other team, the sweat glistening on her biceps, the way she took the game so seriously made your brain fog and between your legs grow wet.

you felt weird once you slipped your hands in your panties once you got into your pjs. vi was still having a celebratory party in her teammates dorm, giving you time to relieve whatever was going on with you. you never seen vi like this before and you don't know why you felt this way so randomly. you shrugged off the thoughts that were bombarding you and began to rub your clit softly, breath hitching once you started going a bit faster. you started imagining your very hand was vi's. that it was her helping you inch closer and closer to your release. your whines and moans began to grow louder once you slipped two fingers inside your cunt. you couldn't even hear the front door open and slam close, the heavy footsteps that inched closer to your door.

vi could hear every graphic noise that left your room and the soft pants of you saying her name. she didn't know you seen her like that at all. however, hearing your voice whine and beg for her touch, it flipped a switch in her mind. she felt the very need to go in that room and give you exactly what you are craving from her. how evil would she be to not do such thing? vi's hand continued resting on the doorknob, something holding her back from entering your room. she didn't even realize the crack already in the doorway, not thinking her leaning forward would cause the door to crack open.

but it did, exposing your hiked up oversized tee, your hand fucking your pussy while the other gropes your tits, and your flushed face. you already felt her presence in the room, not even feeling the need to look up at her rather amused face. you slowly slid your hand out your underwear, staring up at the ceiling, embracing whatever vi felt the need to say.

what to even do in a situation like this that'll leave both of you satisfied and on normal terms?

a/n wrote this sleepy as fawk so it's not even proofread..... but i've been on a vi kick recently so 😁

[eddielove]

Can’t take this anymore I need to fuck him

[alethianightsong]

I'm reading all this Remmick fanfiction that makes the guy this suave motherfucker with an Irish twang when in canon, bro's got all the confidence of a greasy car salesman. His charisma is paper-thin and he's off-putting as hell. Quirky but endearing. A little sad but menacing like a venomous animal in a trap. He'd be a touch-starved submissive, a desperate yandere wanting to feel connection so bad he'd kill for it. Still wanna fuck him or hug him as the mood strikes me tho.

[eveomo]

taking whats mine - joel miller x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ synopsis : you head to the bar to blow off some steam after a petty argument with your boyfriend, joel, but you end up flirting with the last person you should've been flirting with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ warnings/tags : MINORS DNI, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, begging, crying, spanking, jealous sex, angry sex, rough fucking, pet names, praise, degradation, use of sir, use of daddy (once), age gap (reader is 22, joel is 48), fingering, dom!joel, jealous!joel, no outbreak, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, pussy slapping, public sex

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ contains : older!joel miller x younger!reader, borderline infidelity, public sex, alcohol consumption, large consensual age gap

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ wc : 3.7k

the bar hums with a steady pulse of low conversation and the clinking of glass while neon lights buzz faintly above the bar counter, casting a colourful glow over people nestled into the worn leather booths and high padded stools. a jukebox in the corner crackles with the opening beat of song 2 by blur, blending with the cacophony of voices and laughter while a group of people begin to cheer after the home team scores, TV’s playing the football game. the air smells faintly of spilt beer, fried food, stale smoke, and sweat, causing your nose to wrinkle slightly as you sink down into the plush barstool. 

normally, you’d be pulled tight on your boyfriends lap, his large, muscular arms pinning you against him as he ordered drinks for the both of you, fingers digging into your plush thighs as you bat your eyelashes at him in gratitude, intoxicated by his scent.

this time, however, you are alone. 

joel didn’t typically feed into your petty attitudes, usually preferring to fuck them out of you and calm you down by pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. but after an especially long week at work where there seemed to be a never-ending barrage of issues with the place him and his brothers team were building and far too many 14 hour days, he snapped. you had been begging him to take you out, promising him it would ease some of his tension and stress but he repeatedly declined, telling you he had a headache and would rather stay home and watch football. 

you tried to understand, really you did. but it was safe to say that after a week of barely seeing him, not being able to wrap your legs around his waist and tug on the salt and pepper curls at the base of his neck, that you didn’t really care how he was feeling, just wanting to spend time with him outside of the house and do anything other than watch sports. of course, it was petty, selfish, and immature, but being 22 will do that to you, you supposed. 

you had left the house with a huff and a slam of the front door after joel had told you to “quit bein’ a fuckin’ brat and pissin’  me off. go out if you want to that badly.” with a mean lilt to his voice that made your stomach simmer with an angry burn. that was the meanest he’d ever been to you outside of your sex life. the two of you had been together for no more than two and a half months, still keeping it private and between you and him. your parents hadn’t a clue, and neither did joel’s brother. you hadn’t met him yet, the only thing about him you knew was that his name is tommy and him and joel still fight like teenage boys, a smile tugging at your lips at the thought.

you white-knuckled the steering wheel the entire drive to the bar, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as his words kept repeating in your head. 

so, that’s how you found yourself nursing a lone star, your black mini skirt hugging your hips and ass while your corset top squishes your tits into your torso, accentuating your cleavage deliciously. you make conversation with the bartender as she cleans glasses, mixes drinks, and wipes down the counter, looking around at the patrons trying to find someone worth flirting with. 

under any other circumstances, you would never even consider batting your eyelashes and giggling for any other man but joel, but you simply knew him too well. you knew the way you huffed and slammed the door, leaving in an anger, had left his cock angry and straining against his jeans as his mind reeled, fighting against the urge to follow you to the bar and fuck you right in his truck, setting you straight. regardless, you knew you were getting fucked tonight, but it would be much more fun if you could bring out the possessive side of joel that made him press your thighs to your shoulders while his cock abused your pussy until you couldn’t even think. the thought sent a pang of warmth straight down to your core and you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt for some semblance of relief. 

as if on cue, an older man, maybe in his late 30’s to early 40’s, enters the bar and a mischievous smile makes its way onto your face. you watch with your bottom lip between your teeth as he approaches the bar, settling down in the only available stool; the one right beside you. he glances over at you and you shoot him a smile, pushing your hair off of your shoulder as you take a sip from your glass, leaning forward to lean on your palm.

“now what’s a pretty young thing like you doin’ at a bar like this?” he drawls, green eyes twinkling as he studies your face before dragging his eyes up and down your body. 

bingo.

you hum, trying to decide what to say while tapping your nail against your lip as you support your head on the palm of your hand. “boyfriends bein’ an asshole so i came to blow off some steam,” you settled on telling him a half truth. 

joel was being an asshole, but because you deserved it, and the only steam you were looking to blow off was with joel. 

the man beside you chuckled, pushing a few stray pieces of dirty blonde hair out of his face, the rest tied back. “naughty girl,” he chided, eyes dragging up your body again and settling on your tits before making eye contact again.

something tugged at you, making your stomach churn anxiously. he looks oddly familiar, you realize, but you shake the feeling, comforting yourself with the fact that you and joel had come here many times, and you’d probably just seen this guy around before. 

“somethin’ like that,” you reply with a giggle, pushing yourself to sit back up after finishing the rest of your beer, turning and ordering another one. you reach for your wallet to pay before you see a card being slid across the counter.

“let me take care of it, darlin’.” he winks, a smile spreading across his bearded face as you thank him with a light touch to his bicep. 

the two of you talk for several minutes, his flirting making you giggle as your hair falls in front of your face before you take a drink of the beer he had paid for, wiping away the foam that had appeared on your top lip with your pointer finger before popping it in your mouth, making eye contact with the man beside you. 

he smirks and tucks your hair behind your ear, out of your face and your stomach twists with guilt. his eyes flit down to your lips, and his thumb meets your bottom lip, swiping across it lightly. 

“what i’d give to see you suck somethin’ else off them pretty fingers of yours,” 

okay, now you feel really guilty. 

you had expected joel to come after you sooner, have him walk in and see you simply talking to someone, but this was bordering on actual cheating. you wriggle nervously in your seat eliciting a chuckle from the man beside you, but before you could truly process your guilt, an angry voice came from behind you. 

“get the fuck away from her, tommy.”

your heart drops to your stomach as the realization hits you. no wonder he was so god damn familiar, he was joels fucking brother. the guilt was eating you alive now as you whip around to face joel, his eyes dark and jaw tensed. 

“joel i-“ you start, but he glares at you with a look you’ve never seen before, pointing a finger in your direction.

“dont.” he warns, and you feel a flood of warmth in your core at his words, thighs rubbing together in your seat. joel looks down at your movement and scoffs, jaw tightening so hard you thought he might break his teeth. jesus fucking christ.

“joel, what the fuck? this is the girl you’ve been seein’?” tommys mouth hangs open, looking between the two of you before standing and putting his hands up in defense as joel’s eyes meet his, glaring. 

“we can talk about it later,” he grunts, looking at his brother before gripping your wrist tightly, yanking you off of the stool. “you, however,” he drawls, voice lowering as he pulls you closer to him, “are comin’ with me right the fuck now.” 

you nod silently, mumbling out a quiet “it was nice meeting you,” to tommy, which only serves to make joel grip your wrist harder as he drags you out of the bar. you can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of what’s in store for you, following joel in a horny trance as he pulls you past his truck.

“wha- where are we-“ you start before joel tugs you around a corner and into a dark alleyway before pressing your back up against the brick wall, thigh quickly finding purchase between your legs as his torso presses against yours. you whine at the pressure on your clothed cunt, trying to grind down onto his thigh only to be stopped by a bruising grip on your hips. 

“you want me that fuckin’ bad? huh?” joel mocks you, his breath hot and heavy as his mouth hovers over yours, sending chills down your spine and causing more slick to collect in your panties. one hand releases your hip as it snakes up and grips your jaw as he moves your head to the left, inspecting your face before repeating the motion, turning your head to the right. a dark look washes over his face, clearly displeased at your lack of a reply.

“answer me when i speak to you.” he spits out angrily, watching as your eyes widen and a low whine escapes your throat causing his cock to twitch in his jeans.

“y-yes.” you manage to pant out, head buzzing at the sensation of his breath on your face, his burning grip on your face and hips, and the pressure burning a hole into your cunt. 

“yes what?” joel grunts, eyes dragging down your body as a string of obscenities leave his mouth, studying the way the slit of your skirt just barely covers the string of your thong wrapping around your hips and the way your tits press together in your tight top. his bruising grip leaves your face and two fingers press onto your clothed clit, making you writhe against his touch.

“yes sir,” you moan out, brain and body overwhelmed as a groan leaves his lips as he realizes just how wet you are for him, panties thoroughly soaked through, leaving a wet spot on his thigh where he had pressed against you. you whine at his reaction and his eyes flit back up to yours as he quickly flips you around, hands now bracing yourself against the wall as he presses his thick bulge against your ass. 

“think i ‘oughta remind you who you belong to,” joel hurriedly pulls your mini skirt up, letting it sit on your waist as he lets out a low whistle, eyes settling on the black g-string that sat between your asscheeks, a pretty gold heart holding the strings together at the top. 

“what? you jealous that your brother wants to fuck me just as much as you do-” a hand comes down on your right ass cheek with burning strength as you yelp out, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the mixture of pain and pleasure. “you put these on for me? or are they for whichever guy your greedy self set your eyes on first?” his hand comes down on your ass again, ignoring your snide comment and you push your hips back into him, grinding against his bulge.

“a-ah- i swear joel! i swear i didn’t know he was your broth-“ you stammer before receiving another three smacks on your ass with no soothing rubs to follow, leaving you to stew there with an unbearable burn, sure to turn into welts come the morning.

“dont.” he reaffirms with another smack to your ass before ripping your thong from your body as you cry out.

“joel,” you whine, fingers digging into the brick wall in front of you as your forehead rests against the wet rock. “i really liked that pair…” you mumble as he scoffs at you, fingers tracing delicate lines through your wet, swollen folds. 

“p-please baby i-“ you’re interrupted by another smack to your ass and you moan as you feel more slick pour from your needing cunt, dripping down your thighs. 

“you lost any control you thought you mighta had when you decided to suck on your finger and eye fuck my brother right in fronta’ me, sweetheart.” joel growls into your ear, pressing his body right up against yours as his hair raked itself through your hair, yanking your head back by his makeshift ponytail. 

“joel please, i swear i didn’t know!” you beg, your voice coming out as a breathy whine as your hips grind desperately against him, hoping to find any sort of friction to release the tension coiling in your stomach. 

“ohh it ain’t about knowin’ baby girl,” his fingers make their way back to your soaking cunt, sliding through your folds with ease before rubbing tight circles against your clit, finally giving you what you were craving. 

“you fucked up real good.” joel continues, fingers dragging back up before plunging deep inside of your tight pussy, pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace as your back arches, slapping one of your hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence the broken moan being ripped from your throat. 

“don’t go all quiet on me now darlin’,” he teases, his free arm reaching around to pull your wrist behind your back. “want everyone to know just who you belong to.” joel finishes, his fingers curling up inside you and finding that spot that has you dripping all over his hand, another loud moan being ripped from your throat.

he continues his ministrations, his thumb beginning to rub small circles onto your clit as he adds a third finger into your cunt, your head spinning as your pussy stretches to accommodate his large digits. joels mouth meets your neck, trailing wet kisses down to the crook of your neck where he sucks down hard on your skin.

“o-oh! joel-“ you can feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter, burning hotter, his fingers repeatedly stroke your g-spot, pulling a groan from his mouth as he feels your pussy clenching and fluttering around his fingers. he knows that you’re close, the way your legs are shaking and his name is leaving your lips like a prayer, pulling you closer to the edge. 

“b-baby please, please ‘m so close… wanna come for you baby please,” you can feel it about to crash over you, threatening to make your knees buckle underneath you, stealing your vision. instead of your vision, joel steals your release, ripping his hand away from your dripping cunt as he plants another hard smack on your ass cheek.

“bad girls don’t get to come, baby.” he teases, watching as you cry out and writhe against his body. fat tears start to fall down your cheeks at your desperation and loss of release and joel tuts, his hands finally soothing the red of your ass. 

“think ya needa be fucked till you remember whose you are, ain’t that right?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly with a hint of the same desperation you’re feeling. you nod fervently before receiving a hard slap to your cunt and you cry out, a sob coming from your mouth.

“y-yes! that’s right sir!” you correct yourself, sighing in relief as you hear the familiar jingle of his belt buckle and the zipper of his jeans, wiggling your ass for him while you try to sneakily touch yourself. 

“mm-mm.” he stops you, gripping both of your wrists behind your back as you whine in disappointment.

“dunno why ya think you’re gonna be gettin’ anything ya want after the stunt ya just pulled.” joel grunted, releasing his thick cock from its confines as he tugs his pants down with one hand. a moan escapes your throat as you feel it smack against your ass, warm and heavy. you press your hips backwards, trying to will him into fucking you. 

“ya want my cock baby?” he drawls, lazily dragging his tip through your drooling folds, making you shudder and inhale sharply.

“yes sir,” he hums contentedly and presses forward the smallest bit before stopping, making you whine.

“apologize.” he states flatly, cock unmoving as his hands release your wrists and grip your hips instead, forcing you to stay in place. 

“‘m real sorry baby, please fuck me, i promise i learned my lesson,” you begged, attempting to push your hips backwards despite your clear inability to do so.

“you’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want my cock inside ya, darlin’.” he drawls, going back to rubbing his tip through your folds, making you cry out in desperation as your head starts to spin.

“p-please ‘m so sorry daddy, it’ll never happen again i promise, please jus’ fuck me- i need- i need you joel,” you pant out, crying again as he laughs meanly behind you. “im sor-”

you’re quickly interrupted by him stuffing your cunt with his cock, filling you to the brim in one quick stroke. “atta girl,” he praises, “knew i could get ya to listen to reason.”

you cry out in pleasure as you lose your vision, an orgasm ripping through your body at his words and the feeling of him deep inside of your sopping pussy, body shaking feverishly as he groans behind you.

“thas’ right baby, come all over my cock. show me who you belong to, angel.” he blabbers as he starts to fuck into you, hips slapping against yours as a squelching noise fills the air. joels hands reach down to grab at your ass, kneading the flesh between harsh smacks on your already sore cheeks. 

“f-fuck!” you scream out as he fucks you through your orgasm, sliding his cock in and out of you at a devastating pace. you feel so fucking full, his cock reaching places deep inside you that you hadn’t even known existed until he waltzed into your life. he pulls you close to him, body pressing tightly against his as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“this perfect pussy ‘s all mine… so fucking tight baby, so perfect,” he groans into your ear, biting down on your shoulder as you shudder and gasp, barely able to make a noise with the way his cock pushes deep inside of you with every thrust of his hips. “say it. say ‘s all mine, sweet girl.” 

“mmmm…” you moan as he rocks your body with his thrusts. “its all yours joel, ‘m pussy ‘s yours,” you scream out as he angles his hips higher, pushing the dip in your back further with one of his hands, cock violently punching into your g-spot.

“o-ohh,” you cry out, your wet walls clenching around his fat cock, relishing in the tingling sensation that grows inside of you.

“p-please don’t stop- ah! ‘m so close,” joel loses any control he previously had as he grabs your hips and slams your cunt onto his cock, the only sounds in the alleyway being the slapping of skin, the squelching of your wet pussy, and your loud moans that you’re sure passerby’s can hear.

“yeah?” he grunts, “such a fuckin’ slut for this cock, baby. such a good girl. come on my cock again, sweet thing,” he commands, and you know your body will obey. a burst of tension rolls through your body as he pulls your hips into him desperately like his life depends on it. you scream out again, voice sore and breaking as your second earth-shattering orgasm is ripped through you. 

“fuck,” he groans, “you like makin’ me jealous baby? you like the way i slap that perfect ass of yours and fuck this tight little pussy?” 

“y-yes! y-yes baby oh my god!” you whine out, coming down from your climax only to be greeted with another one quickly approaching. 

“ya think you can come for me one more time baby?” he moans out, slapping your ass as he keeps fucking into you, your body shuddering as you feel the incredible size of him pumping into your cunt. 

you nod your head feverishly and joel seems to be too lost in the feeling of your tight, wet walls to care that you didnt use your words. 

“who else can make you cream on their cock like this, baby?” joel demands, groaning as he feels his own release quickly approaching as your walls flutter around him, your third climax rising up through your body.

“f-fuck, no one joel, no one but you,” you whine, your pussy spent and leaking your fluid as he continues fucking into you, his balls slapping against your clit bringing you even closer to finishing.

“m gonna come baby, right in this pretty little pussy of yours,” he grunts, slapping your ass as tears spill over, again. “c’mon baby give me one more, i know you can. prove to me you wanna be mine,”

joels hand reaches between your legs and he rubs delicious circles into your clit, your huge fucking mistake (being tommy) is now erased from your mind as your insides burst into flames and your hips snap backwards, meeting his thrusts as your cunt spasms around him. he lets out a long, low groan as he spills his release inside of you, fucking you through your third and final orgasm until his hips still, leaving you panting against the wall.

“such a good girl for me,” he purrs, pulling out and landing a final smack on your pussy, making your entire body convulse in overstimulation. you cry out softly and he pulls your body against him, finally holding you against his torso. you whine as you feel his spend leaking out of your pussy, and his fingers are quick to collect it and plug your dripping hole. 

his fingers leave your cunt moments later and you let out a disappointed sigh as he taps your ass lightly, pressing a kiss to your marked up neck.

“now pull that slutty skirt down and get in the fuckin’ truck.”

hoep you guys enjoyed!!! this is my first time writing smut in like 5 years so i hope its good </3 older men have been consuming my head so i wrote this up in a frenzy :P will be crossposted to ao3!

constructive criticism is welcome as always!

[shouyuus]

18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent - join the taglist

[minkieater]

twin cowboys ⇄ yungi ʚɞ song mingi x f!reader x jeong yunho your sorority chose to spend spring break in nashville this year and you couldn’t wait to finally go out to bars with your sisters. it was your second night out on the broadway strip and the only thing on your mind was having a good time – who are mingi and yunho to stop you?

w. smut 18+ minors dni porn with a lil' plot, dom/sub dynamics wc. ~9k

spring break for you and your sorority was a big deal.

for the last three years you’d traveled with the group of girls to new orleans, new york, las vegas, all places with incredible nightlife and a vast amount of things to do whether you’re of age or not. the older sisters always went to bars and clubs, leaving the underage sisters to their own devices in a new city, but someone always knew someone, there was never a shortage of something to do. 

this is your first year of being able to go out to places you could legally drink at and you were overflowing with excitement at where was chosen in the famous yearly salad bowl draw. every year you and your sisters would sit in the living room, your cutest and comfiest pajamas on and the entire sorority would get a partner and make a powerpoint presentation of where they wanted to travel to for spring break, including everything you could do in that city. at the end of all the presentations, you’d put all the cities in a bowl, and the president of the sorority would choose where you’d go.

this year the name that was drawn was nashville, tennessee. 

the bowl draw was smart, every year you had a complete guide already made up, the only work to be done was figuring out where to stay and getting tickets on the same flight. the vice president always figured out the rest, an unspoken job that was passed down year to year. 

this year you were staying in an adorable airbnb, decorated in pink, little sayings and picturesque opportunities covering the walls. it was massive, it had rooms for each of you, including a living space and a kitchen. if you needed to you didn’t have to leave, the place was enough for an instagram post — perfect for the underage sisters. 

it was your second night going out on the broadway strip and you were still hungover from the night before. you get ready with a redbull in hand, chasing your shots with it, using it to power through the stomachache and energize you for another night of too much alcohol. your sisters felt the same, despite the loud music flowing through the space of the home there was an underlying trudge between the sixteen of you. 

you did your makeup before you could feel the buzz that was flowing through your veins form into a flat out drunk, leaving you to only choose your outfit. you had packed very specifically for the short four days you’d spend in nashville, a leather mini skirt, leather top and of course, leather cowboy boots was already laid out for you as your night two outfit. 

your sisters were dressed the same, tassels and cowboy boots were on everybody in the house, that’s how you dressed for nashville, it was on every woman in the city between the ages of twenty and fifty. you’d all gotten ready in the middle of the day, most of you just waking up from a drunken sleep to shower and do it all over again. 

before you left the house you shoved a couple of crackers down your throat, something to soak up the alcohol so you didn’t throw up high noons all over the pink airbnb when you got home tonight. you’d walked up and down the strip a few times already the night before, checking out every bar on the sloped street that way you had a better idea of where you’d spend your night tonight. 

as you left the airbnb your first stop was kid rock’s honkey tonk, a building consisting of five stories that had a different band playing on each one. you’d made it through all five stories, stopping for a drink at each of the six bars, spending more than enough time in the crowd before the band. 

it was getting later, the sun had far past gone down, you and your sisters decided to go to where you’d spend most of your night tonight. luke bryan’s bar, 32 bridge, was connected to jason aldean’s rooftop bar, two places that you could slip back and forth from by just going to the top floor. the night before you’d loved it there, with country music playing earlier in the night shifting to more typical techno and rap music as you got closer to the nightlife crowd entering the bar. 

you were standing on the stage, the lights glowing a dim, cool blue, a massive crowd beyond the stage. you and three of your sisters were dancing along to a random country song, kicking your feet and swaying your arms in the air as if you were holding a lasso. you paid no mind to the crowd beyond you who was watching, eyeing you up from below. you were having fun with your sisters, all three of you giggling onstage, eyes half lidded in a drunken haze. 

the song ended and you realized your drink was empty, you motioned to the bar to let your sisters know you were going for a refill, leaving you to fight the dense crowd on your own. you stuck to the outskirts, weaving through random people and groups of girls just like you jumping and dancing to the music, trying your best to head straight to the bar. 

you sighed when you noticed the three layered crowd surrounding the entirety of the bar, knowing you’d be waiting here for a while to get close enough to even be noticed by the bartender. this was everywhere, every bar, nothing you hadn’t already experienced in the 36 hours you’d been here. 

“what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” your neck snapped to the corny pick up line coming from a raspy, poor accented voice, having to crane your head upward to see the face the voice was connected to. he was smiling, humor laced in his tone, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the attempt. 

“never heard that one before,” you laughed it off as he tipped his cowboy hat in your direction, obviously putting on a southern front when there was no way this man had ever stepped foot in the south.

“was it convincing?” he kept up with the fake accent and instead of cringing you giggled again, covering your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding your drink. 

“somewhat,” you shrugged your shoulders, a blush creeping on your cheeks when you really looked at him. dark, black hair if it wasn’t the deepest brown hair you’d ever seen curling around the edges of his cowboy hat, a lean but muscular build, you could see his forearms flex under the folds on his western themed button up as he drank from his beer. deep, inviting dark eyes, full lips and a sloped nose. he was sturdy, definitely your type, tall and husky and strong. 

“i’ll take that as a win, doll,” he smirked, dropping the accent as the corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile, “who are you here with?” 

“my sorority,” you turned to point to the stage, the remaining two of your sisters dancing with one another for the crowd. that was one way to let you keep an eye on them. 

“no way, i’m here with my frat,” his eyes were wide in surprise, “did we all have the same idea for spring break?” 

“seems like it,” you used your hand to refer to the crowd surrounding you, it seemed like there was no one present that was above the age of twenty five. “have you ever been here before?” 

he shook his head, “nah, the president’s birthday was yesterday so we’re here to celebrate him and spring break.” 

you nodded then decided to introduce yourself, wanting so badly to learn the cowboy’s name, encouraging the conversation to keep flowing so he’d stick around for awhile. 

“mingi,” he tipped his hat again with that pitiful accent, “pleasure to meet you, doll.” 

the blush returned to your cheeks, a weak resolve when his pick up lines were not up to par. you finally got up to the bar, a space left open when the person in front of you had gotten their drink, and you waited with elbows on the gloss finished wood for the bartender to come around to you. 

“did you need another beer?” you asked mingi who stood behind you, grateful he hadn’t left. he shook the bottle of beer to feel how much of it was actually left, and gave you a nod. 

he reached into his pocket and passed you his card, “a drink for you and me.” 

“we just met, i can totally get my own drink, don’t worry about it,” you pushed his card back to his chest and his smile returned, showing his lopsided teeth that matched his endearing look. 

“let me show you a little southern hospitality, you can get the next one if you’d like,” he was giggling as he spoke, barely getting the words out because he knew he was keeping the act up for too long, it was too entertaining to stop, plus it seemed like it was actually working. 

the bartender came around quickly without giving you time to respond, you ordered drinks for the both of you while tapping the corner of his card on the bar. the bartender quickly returned with your drinks and you traded them for mingi’s card, waiting for their swift return so you could sign off on the transaction. 

“wanna dance?” he asked as you turned around, handing his beer to him. 

“only if you promise to cut the accent.” he laughed at that and nodded, walking towards the crowd of people. 

he guided you slowly, inching towards the center of people, wanting to get to the more dense area of the crowd. he seemed to have found his friends, waving to three people who were shorter than him, all wearing cowboy hats and western attire themselves. they were all hot, you needed to find out where he went to school.

he turned back to you and started dancing, a sway to his hips matching that of the cowboy boots on his feet, swinging back and forth in front of you, encouraging you to match his rhythm. you agreed, your body naturally reacting to the flow of the music and the movement of his body, bodies quickly getting closer. it was like his hips were magnetic, the way they pulled you closer to him, closing the space between you. 

your chest came up to just before his pecs, your head tilted up to get a view of his face, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. the songs switched, the next one a hit that everyone in the building knew, a famous song across the entire country. 

well i walk into the room, passing out hundred dollar bills…

you squealed in excitement, jumping a little bit because you know this one. you immediately started singing along, taking control of the dance this time, making mingi move to a flow of your own. 

cause i saddle up my horse, and i ride into the city…

his empty hand reached for your hips, keeping you flush to himself, singing along with you as he stared down at you, between you. you sipped your drink as your legs moved between his own, somehow getting even closer, welcoming every huge inch of him pressed to you. 

riding up and down broadway, on my old stud leroy…

an idea popped into your foggy head, a clever one, one you were sure would get the man to finally close the distance. you reached up to his cowboy hat and quickly took it off his head, placing it on your own as the words save a horse, ride a cowboy pumped through the speakers of the club and out of your mouth. 

his sweet smile turned devilish before he moved his lips closer to your ear, “doll, do you even know what you just did?” 

you laughed, your head falling backwards in a drunken haze, eyes fluttering shut as you held his hat tight on your head with your hand. 

you were oblivious to the old saying, the unspoken rule that if you take off a cowboy’s hat, it’s an invitation to take off other things, too.  

his hand tightened around your hip, snapping you out of your giggles and swiftly moved his hand up to your chin, fingers pinching the skin to connect his lips to yours. you allowed it, you welcomed it, your too hot body immediately leaned into his touch. 

your free hand moved up to cup his cheek, moving your lips with his, biting the skin of his bottom lip. he gasped and you used the opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth, tangling with his own. your bodies kept swaying, moving, dancing as your tongues tangled, bodies involuntarily moving to the music and to each other. 

your back arched into him, pulling away so you could switch your angle, connecting your lips to his again. it was deepening, too hot to be in the middle of a crowded bar. you heard cheers from behind him that you could only assume were his friends, making you smile into the kiss, inevitably breaking the trance the two of you had subconsciously entered. 

you giggled as you peered around his shoulder at the shorter guys who were cheering and clapping, rooting for their friend in the middle of the dance floor. there was a blush to mingi’s cheeks as he told his friends to shut up, then turned back to bring his lips to your own again in a short peck. 

“ignore them!” he yelled as he pulled back, getting into the groove of dancing along to the next song. 

“it was cute,” you replied, taking his hat off of your head and standing up on your tippy toes to put it back on his head. 

“gotta pee! i’ll be back,” you told him, the seal you had broken an hour ago was on overdrive, now your bathroom breaks were getting closer together. he pulled you flush to him in another of slew of open mouthed kisses before he let you go, sending you off with a quick tap to your ass. 

you maneuvered through the crowd again, much more dense this time before you finally made it to the sparse areas, head turning left and right in search for the bathroom. you spotted it and made it there quickly, resetting your bladder to another countdown before you were off for the crowd again. 

as you left the bathroom in a rush, eager to get back to mingi, you slammed face first into something similar to a brick wall. 

you jumped back a step, apologies flooding out of your lips, craning your neck to look up to the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen looking back down at you. 

“you’re good, don’t worry,” he waved his hand with a tight lipped smile, bringing the same hand up to adjust the hat that was atop his rich, chestnut hair. 

“did i spill your beer? i can get you another one,” you offer, hands wiping at the damp spots in his button down, strong abdomen underneath. it was similar to the one mingi wore, identical to the one his friends’ shirts, your drunk mind was too foggy to notice the correlation. 

he shook his bottle and his lips tightened with his eyebrows raised and a tilt to his head, “i could use another beer, actually.” 

you smiled, grateful he was allowing you to pay back the inconvenience you caused him, quickly guiding him over to the bar again. you got yourself another drink and another beer for him, the crowd around the bar was two layers less compared to your last stop here. 

“thank ya, little lady,” he smiled again, patting your head with his long fingers. you were weak in the knees, he was huge, taller than mingi but more lanky. his arms were thinner, thighs less full yet he also looked so strong… where have all of these men been hiding? 

“we’re even now…?” you asked for his name without asking for it, your sentence trailing along, soliciting the information from him. 

“yunho,” he finished for you, those kind eyes smiling down at you once more. you introduce yourself back with a smile, and he shook your hand much to your surprise. such a mature gesture from a seemingly college boy…it was somehow expected from his character that bled through his features. 

“i wouldn’t say we’re even yet, little lady,” yunho interrupted your train of thought, picking your hand up that was glued to your side, “you owe me a dance and then we’ll be even, scout’s honor.” 

he held up three fingers and you laughed, nodding so he’d put down his damn hand that wasn’t holding onto yours and he led you to the crowd. 

he kept towards the outskirts, only inching you in maybe five layers deep, nowhere near the center. his arm immediately slipped around your waist, knees bending a bit as he did, pulling you flush to him to the flow of music in the air. you giggled, swaying your hips along with his, less build up than you had with the other cowboy yet the destination was just as clear. 

you turned yourself around, pressing your back to him instead and he kept that same arm curled around your waist. you tilted your head, hair falling to one shoulder, leaving the other one bare for him. mingi had started something you were unable to finish, you’d hoped that yunho would pick up right where he left off. 

yunho took a breath, moving his hand to travel along the skin of the slope of your neck to your shoulder, pressing his fingers to the flesh made bare for him. your body’s temperature rose even higher than before, trapping the noise of enjoyment in your lungs. your hips moved in tandem, bodies moving as one to the beat, yunho’s small touches only encouraged the pit that was forming in your stomach. you were getting worked up, beginning to inch toward needing a release, not caring which cowboy you got it from. 

like he could read your mind, yunho bent down and pressed his lips to your shoulder, evoking a sound you couldn’t keep inside this time. your head sank back into his shoulder, your hips stuttering slightly against his, you couldn’t hide what yunho knew you needed right off the mark. 

his lips trailed along the skin of your shoulder, spending time where it met your neck, licking over the sensitive skin there, only encouraging your body to sink further into his own. his hand trailed around your hips, playing with the hem of your skirt, fingertips slipping inside the leather to rub against the skin of your thigh. 

you whipped your body around, overstimulated by the small touches, you needed more. you pressed your lips to his and he moved his hand from your skirt to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. his knee split your legs, slipping a muscled thigh between your own, pressing up against your center. 

once again you were in the crowded mob, doing something not meant for the public eye yet enjoying every second of it — damn near begging for more, for it to go further. you moaned at the contact, finally getting some kind of stimulation where you needed it. your lips moved quickly, rushed, your hand flying to his chest to grip onto the fabric of his shirt. yunho chuckled into the kiss and bounced his leg once, twice before you had to pull your lips off of his, eyes screwed shut. 

“yun!” a voice called from behind you and you wanted to scream in frustration, tell the other person to fuck off so you could keep going, finally finish what had been started. but as you whipped around and your other cowboy stared at you in the face, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar, you knew you were caught red handed. 

a blush crept onto your cheeks, mingi clearly didn't realize it was you that yunho had attached himself to when he yelled his president’s name. you didn’t realize they knew each other. 

“damn, i was gonna ask if you were ready to move to another bar,” his lips pulled into a line but you didn’t see any anger in his big, innocent eyes, “i see that you’re busy.” 

your eyes trailed up and down his figure, thighs thick and full and inviting. you peered up to his lips through your eyelashes, missing their taste, wanting more of him. an idea popped into your head, another one that you didn’t consider the consequences of, thinking with everything but your head. 

you curled your index finger, motioning him towards you as your back sunk into yunho’s chest once more. as mingi came closer, your chin lifted to give mingi your best innocent look, “don’t go, we’re just getting started.” 

you swung your arms around mingi’s shoulders, locking your fingers around your cocktail, hips starting to move along to the song again. the boys followed your lead, neither of them saying a word, only falling into rhythm with you. 

with yunho pressed to your backside and mingi flushed against your front, you felt like you could let go, let your inhibitions run rampant between the two sturdy men who could easily take care of you. you pulled mingi down towards your face with the arms wrapped around his neck, you were met with no resistance as your lips connected once more. 

yunho drank from his beer as he kept his other hand secured on your hip, watching the scene unfold in front of him with darkened eyes. it was hot, watching a girl he just met make out with his best friend while her ass pressed against his cock so deliciously, grinding against him to the beat of the song. he was salivating, his beer washing down the desire he felt from head to toe, fingers gripping harder the longer you kissed. 

yours and mingi’s tongues danced again, fighting for dominance, neither of you unaware of the man that stood right behind you. the slight ache of yunho’s grip on your hip made you whimper into mingi’s mouth, mingi’s own hand lifting up to your waist. his thumb circled at the small space between your top and your skirt, feeling the softness of your skin, the heat that transferred from you to himself. 

you broke away from mingi and glanced behind you, noticing yunho’s lustful stare, his eyes low and clouded. you glanced to his lips and he agreed without a word, leaning forward to catch your awaiting lips with his own. 

mingi huffed at the contact between you and yunho, thumb slipping inside the hem of your top, wanting to keep his hands on you as you kissed his best friend. he pressed himself closer, keeping the growing tent in his jeans away from watchful eyes, suddenly very aware of what the three of you were doing in a packed club. 

“we should go,” mingi’s voice is hoarse as he speaks, “i mean, if you guys want to take this elsewhere.” 

you break away from yunho and nod, scared that the wetness between your legs will start dripping down your thighs if you don’t do something about it. you bring the rest of your drink to your lips, chugging three quarters of it down, the twin cowboys doing the same. you placed your glasses on the bar on your way out, the three of you nearly racing out of the club and back onto the street of broadway. 

“i’m staying at an airbnb a block away,” you decide, leading them in the direction of your place, not giving them the option of going anywhere else. 

as you walked off the busy street the two of them grabbed both of your hands on either side of you, their long legs making you have to walk twice as fast to keep up with them. you arrived quickly, messing up the door code not once but twice in anticipation, giving the code to yunho who punched in the numbers with a cool, calculated head. 

the living room had a few underage sisters still lingering, all who watched you with the two men with eyes that bulged out of their heads, but yet no one said a word. you gave them a small wave and a meek smile before you dragged the boys up the staircase, finally arriving at your bedroom which was a wreck after two days of getting ready. 

mingi hopped on the bed quickly, manspreading with his feet planted on the floor, an invitation for you to sit on his lap. 

“we should talk about this first,” yunho interrupted and both you and mingi simultaneously whined, you stopped in your tracks before hopping on mingi’s lap. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” yunho raised his hands in defense, “but we’ve all been drinking and i want this to be a good experience for all three of us.” 

“i want this,” you interjected with a finger, “i started it.” 

“i also want this,” mingi nodded in agreement, hands readjusting his jeans, “was hoping the night would end this way when i first laid eyes on you, doll.” 

you giggled, your body immediately moving to crawl onto his lap, making yourself comfortable on the spot he just readjusted. 

“hold on, little lady,” yunho came up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “you sure? what do you want from this?” 

your head craned upward to look at yunho who stood over you, the crown of your head touching his chest as he towered over your figure that was spread across mingi’s lap. “i’m sure yunho, i wanna be taken care of, want you, want both of you.” 

you glanced down to mingi with the last part and that lopsided smirk returned to his lips as he leaned forward to finally kiss you. yunho interrupted with fingers wrapped around your throat before mingi got the pleasure, tilting your head upward to look at him once again. he leaned down to kiss you, upside down from his position behind you, and you involuntarily ground your hips into mingi. mingi groaned, his head tipping back, watching you kiss yunho. 

“don’t be afraid to tell us to stop if it gets to be too much, okay? you know the color system?” he says as soon as he breaks away from the kiss, moving his head so you were looking into his eyes that have gotten impossibly darker. you nodded and he let go, letting you stretch your neck side to side before you nearly pounced on mingi. 

you attached your lips to the first cowboy, all teeth and spit and tongue, no time to waste as your hands snuck up to the short tufts of hair that were peeking out of his hat, tugging at it. mingi groaned, his hips bucking into you from beneath you, his hands roaming across your thighs. you ground your hips into him, the bulge in his jeans dragging against your clothed clit just right, working your hips into a rhythm. 

you felt the bed dip beside you, remembering yunho was here too, you reached for him with a weak arm. he ignored your hand completely as he pulled your hair over to one shoulder again, leaving the whole side of your neck open, indulging himself in licking up the faint saltiness of sweat on your skin. you moaned into mingi’s mouth from the contact, the stimulation from his cock grinding up into you and yunho’s hot tongue running along your shoulder. 

you broke away from mingi’s mouth, continuing your assault on his lap while yunho licked up the base of your neck, making your head fall to the side so he could suck on your jaw, left hand coming up behind you to unzip your top. you and mingi filled the room with sweet sounds of pleasure, working yourselves on each other, his hands coming up to guide your hips against him. 

“fuck, mingi,” you cursed, your eyes fluttering shut as your top fell to the sheets, missing the widening of the twins eyes, how mingi’s tongue lolled out of his mouth at the sight. 

you felt the pit in your stomach start to build and fast, but it was ripped away from you even faster as yunho scooped you off of mingi’s lap and threw you on the bed behind him. you whined at the loss of contact, your skirt slipping up to your waist at the movement, nothing but your chest and your lacy black thong visible to the cowboys. 

“my turn,” yunho’s declaration was nasty as he attached his lips to yours again, body completely enveloping yours on top of the sheets that you left in disarray. you moaned into him as his hands fled to your chest, thumbs circling over the hardened peaks, making you arch into his touch, legs wrapping around his torso. 

mingi stripped himself of his hat, shirt and boots before he crawled next to the two of you on the bed, an arm sliding between yours and yunho’s bodies, slipping his fingers into your panties. 

you cried out a fuck into yunho’s mouth, the rest of the house be damned as mingi used his ring finger and began circling your clit. you broke the kiss as your head fell back into the mattress, digging into it, your chest arching up into yunho’s as mingi dipped his finger further down, dragging your slick up and down your folds. 

“so fucking wet,” mingi said under his breath, eyes focused on his own fingertip that was slipping in and out of you, barely breaking the line of his first knuckle. you couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, the only word forming in your head was the continuous chant of more. 

“please put it inside, please don’t tease,” you whined, head turning to plead with mingi, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. yunho kissed down your neck and throat, licking the column, covering the area in his spit and all you could do was moan. 

mingi’s smile turned devilish, not a singular ounce of sympathy in his beautiful face. a rush of something fled through you as the dynamic changed in the room, mingi’s sweet, playful energy turned taunting, “you like it when i play with your pretty pussy, doll? hm?” 

your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his words and his finger that was slowly inching deeper, each stroke of the thick digit went further yet still not giving you its entire length, leaving you unsatisfied and impatient but utterly fucked out. 

yunho chuckled as he leaned backward, unhooking your legs from around his waist. your legs stayed spread around his hips as he sat on his haunches, taking one hand to move your panties to the side, watching as mingi’s finger that was covered in your slick barely moved in and out of your center. yunho had changed too, that cool, clear headed energy he filled the room with had turned dominant and powerful, it sent a shiver up your spine. 

he bit his lip as his eyes lowered in focus, “you were right ming, such a pretty fucking pussy.” 

your back arched again, hips bucking into mingi’s finger that still wasn’t giving you enough stimulation. mingi smiled at you through lowered eyes as you thrashed on the bed, bucking your hips even though it was doing nothing. 

“so antsy, what a needy girl,” mingi tsked, shaking his head as he watched you, fingers still not letting up from their unsatisfactory attempt of pleasuring you. 

“here, little lady,” yunho said as if he’d help while he brought his other hand to your center, thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit, using very little to no pressure. you were gonna lose your fucking mind. 

tears welled up in your eyes as the twin cowboys watched with amusement, enjoying your frustration before you brought your hand down to yunho’s wrist, opting to force more pressure from his hand if he wasn’t going to give it to you willingly. it was the only option left, they were getting a kick out of your misery, out of your begging — it was the wrong move, and it turned you on even more. 

yunho gasped as he pulled his hand away right before you could wrap your little fingers around his wrist, mingi following suit, leaving you empty and without any stimulation at all. you cried out, eyes squeezing shut, hips chasing their hands. 

“what was that?” yunho asked in disbelief while you stayed silent, eyes opening to small crescents, tears spilling from your mascara coated lashes. 

his head turned to mingi who responded, “i think that was the doll trying to fuck herself. seems she doesn’t need us at all.” 

mingi’s tightened lips pulled to the side, a disappointed look on his face when yunho responded, “i think you might be right again, ming. you don’t need us, little lady? you wanna fuck yourself? thought you wanted us to take care of you.” 

his words were taunting, mocking, the inflection of his voice did nothing but make the tears flow faster. they had definitely done this before, there were already too many moments where they read each other, knowing what the other was going to do next for this to be their first threesome, you were the naïve one here. you nodded, bobbing your head with fervor, a silent plea for them to just give in, give you what you needed.

“beg for it,” his words were vile, venom as he spat them off his tongue. a wicked smile followed yunho’s order, his hands sliding to your thighs to your hips to take control of your lower half. 

“need you to take care of me, please,” you were immediate in your plea, looking between the two men who wore sardonic faces, their smiles twisted. “need both of you so bad, want you inside me.” 

mingi leaned forward and wiped your tears from your cheeks, the sympathetic glint in his eye did not match the evil smile planted on his lips, “what’s that you sang to me earlier? save a horse and what?” 

“i think it’s save a horse and ride a cowboy,” yunho finished for mingi, pretending he had to rack his brain for the answer, just stalling for more time to look at your naked body spread out in front of him. 

mingi nodded in remembrance, the scene of you grabbing his hat and placing it on your own head playing out in his mind. he flipped over on the bed to his back, knees bent up as he looked over to you, “well? what are you waiting for?” 

you jumped. you scrambled over to lap, kneeling over him as you unbuckled his belt and he laughed, “so eager, doll. can’t wait, can you? no patience at all?” 

you shook your head, eyes completely glazed over as you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles. he kicked them off with ease as you took in the size of him, eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips at the sheer length he’d somehow kept hidden in his jeans. 

mingi chuckled before he turned his attention to yunho, “wait til she sees you.” yunho immediately smiled with a short nod, zeroed in on you spitting onto mingi’s length, spreading it with a manicured hand. 

you couldn’t hear him, too focused on the voice in your head screaming how the hell you were gonna fit him inside of you? you ignored your worry and kept your focus on him, figuring that you could at least try and take him in your mouth before you fit him inside. 

“there you go,” mingi cooed as you bent down to pepper kitten licks across his leaking tip, spreading the saliva that was pooling in your mouth down his length. you finally took what you could in your mouth, tongue massaging against the underside, hands pumping what your mouth couldn’t fit. mingi immediately groaned, his hand flying to tangle in your hair, not pushing your head but leaving the weight of his palm as a reminder that he could. 

yunho undressed himself off to the side, sitting back to watch, hand wrapped around his length as he pumped himself at the scene playing out in front of him. he always lets mingi go first, get the initial stretch out of the way so he could have an easier time slipping inside you. they had a method, the twin cowboys, a routine they’d used every time they found themselves sharing the same bed with a partner. you might have started this, but they fell into pattern the moment they realized where tonight was headed. 

you took mingi down in your throat, gagging around him, eyes filled with tears once more as you took him impossibly further. mingi’s eyes were screwed shut, moans falling from his lips, hips involuntarily bucking up into your throat with his fingers tangled in your hair. 

“so fucking good, doll, keep going,” his words slurred, voice low and hoarse as he tried to open his eyes to steal a peek at you. he failed, the view made the feeling overwhelming, you’re too good, too pretty, he felt a pit in his stomach forming and he could not allow that to happen just yet. his fingers pulled at the roots of your hair and lifted you off of him with a pop, his own mouth hanging open at the sight of your fucked out face. 

he pulled you up to his lips by your hair, kissing you roughly, once again all teeth and tongue. you whimpered into his mouth, reaching for his cock again and he bucked his hips into your grip on him. 

“ride me, need you,” he said into your lips between kisses, that raspy voice sending another wave of heat through your body.

“color?” a voice called from the side of the bed and you called green to the air, not even bothering to look over to the taller cowboy who asked the question, too engrossed in mingi’s slick, angry cock laying across his pelvis.

you swung your leg over his lap, spit onto your palm and gave mingi one last pump of lubrication before you lined yourself up over his length. you caught the taller cowboy in the corner of your eye, his hand was still, squeezing the base of his cock and your mouth went dry from what you saw out of your peripherals. 

“fuck yunho,” your eyebrows furrowed together as you finally looked over at him, another worry slithering up your spine, making you pause in your ministrations, locking up your joints. he was leaned back, chiseled abdomen clenched as he edged himself, head tipped back and knuckles white from the pressure of the squeeze around the base of his cock. he looked so fucking sexy you almost moaned from the view, but the fear remained, mingi was big but yunho was bigger, massive even as his cock curved toward him past his belly button. 

mingi gave you a light slap to your pussy making you gasp before you turned to face him. “eyes on me doll, i’m the one fucking you, not him.”

you nodded and tried to refresh your focus, regain your train of thought, lining him up with your center but you couldn’t relax as you tried to split yourself open on him. muscles locked, joints stiff, even mingi’s delicious length had you a little nervous despite every nerve begging you to sit the fuck down. 

yunho picked up on it, sliding from his spot beside you to slip behind you, planting kisses along on your shoulder and both hands on your hips. you relaxed in his touch, head leaning back on his shoulder, your own shoulders slumping.

“you can do it, little lady,” he encouraged, guiding your hips down onto mingi, “there you go, baby, relax for me, hm?”

you moaned at the stretch and yunho’s words, trying to relax your core, letting your head get a little fuzzy so you didn’t tighten around him and just sank. mingi moaned, a strained, languid noise as he felt you wrap around him, a delicious squeeze as you took him further. 

his hands sat on top of yunho’s as his eyes screwed shut, moaning his words in pleasure as much as he was encouraging, “yes, doll, take this dick.” 

the two men pulled you down further, guiding you, encouraging you to let go. a guttural moan broke out of you as you bottomed out, sitting flush against mingi. he let out a sigh of relief. 

“really thought you panicked after seeing yun,” mingi said with a laugh as you sat for a moment, enduring the stretch, embracing it. 

“i did,” you admitted and you heard a breath of amusement leave yunho's lips behind you. “you guys should’ve warned me!” 

“how were we supposed to warn you? hey i know you want to fuck us but just so you know we have massive cocks? that’s insane, we’d never get laid,” mingi replied and you laughed at that, almost as if he weren’t buried inside of you.

“valid,” you replied and you could feel yunho’s grip on your hips pulling your body upward, telling you to move without actually saying anything. you and mingi both moaned at the friction, you could feel every inch of him inside of you, every vein rubbing against your walls. 

“color?” yunho asked from behind you, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips as he guided you downwards again, keeping a slowed pace.

“green,” your voice was breathless and your eyes screwed shut, brain going fuzzy again knowing that yunho was fucking you onto his best friend’s cock. it made you feel like a doll, a plaything, and it was so fucking hot. 

“yes,” mingi whispered as you picked up speed, bouncing on him now, gaining enough strength of your own instead of relying on yunho’s. you lurched forward and your hands pressed against mingi’s sculpted abdomen, using it as leverage to bounce your hips, to gain a rhythm. 

yunho leaned back, hand wrapping around himself again as he watched you fuck mingi, a beautiful view of the back of you bouncing along his length. 

“so fucking sexy,” yunho’s voice was low and sultry, music to your ears and you moaned in response, eyebrows furrowing, that pit in your stomach growing again. yunho noticed your thighs twitch and your rhythm stagger, he was quick to sit on his knees again, wrapping an arm around your hips to attach his fingers to your clit. 

“yes! yes keep going,” you chanted, using the strength of your thighs instead of learning forward against mingi’s abdomen, giving yunho easier access to rub quick circles on your clit. 

“so fucking good doll, taking me so well,” mingi’s hands ran up your thighs as you bounced, his eyebrows fixed together, jaw dropped in pleasure. 

he was hitting every spot so deep, close to touching your cervix from how far he was inside of you. his hands leaned up and kneaded your tits, massaging your nipples between his fingers, pushing your boobs together, slack jawed from the sight in front of him.

“yes, cum on this cock,” the rasp to his voice was so hot, he felt his own orgasm approaching quickly, he needed you to cum first.

yunho circled your clit impossibly quicker and brought his lips to your neck again and you lost it, creaming around mingi, your bounces becoming erratic as you finished on him with a loud cry. mingi quickly brought his hands back to your hips, fucking you onto him through your orgasm, keeping you at a pace to get him past the finish line. 

“inside,” you mumbled through heavy breaths, “cum inside me baby, please mingi, wanna feel it, wanna be full of you.” 

mingi lost it at that, hips bucking up into you until he lost it, too. he finished inside you with a loud groan, his hips slowing, overstimulating himself until he came to a stop. 

like they had a routine, mingi gave himself a moment to catch his breath as yunho lifted you off his length, mingi pulling his body up the bed until his back was against the headboard. you gasped at their quick movements, you were hoping for at least a minute to recover.

“my turn,” he repeated the same words from earlier as he flipped you, laying you down against mingi’s broad chest, kissing you sweetly as his hands raked over your body. 

“say red if you need to stop, okay?” he looked up to you, eyes staring deep into your own so you knew he was being serious. you nodded and he smiled, kissing you again, taking a minute to get lost in your mouth as his hand traveled to your center that had just been pumped full moments prior. 

he let his fingers slip up and down your folds and you gasped, hips immediately bucking at the contact. 

“too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing mingi’s hands that were laid at your sides. 

“gonna take care of you little lady, don’t worry,” yunho didn’t even look up as he spoke, eyes glazed over as he watched his fingers slip through the flood, the mixture of yours and mingi’s release coating his long digits. 

yunho laid down on the mattress, face centimeters from your center and you panicked. is he doing… what you think he’s about to do? he planted a quick kiss to your clit and your head shot back against mingi’s shoulder, a whine leaving your lips from the quick contact, only getting louder as yunho’s tongue dragged from your overstimulated clit to your full hole. 

he spit on it, getting his own liquids in the mix, a concoction of the three of you that was messily spread onto your pussy. it was hot as much as it was embarrassing, you couldn’t live in the discomfort for any longer than a second as the pleasure overtook it.

“shit,” your moan was dragged out as yunho ate mingi’s cum out of you, you watched him lick, you watched him swallow, you watched as he dug his face farther into you when your hips involuntarily bucked into him. 

he took one of his hands that was pressing your thighs to the side and brought it to your center, circling his middle finger around your entrance, slipping the tip of it inside. 

“not this again,” you whined and yunho chuckled against you, sending vibrations through your entire body before he slipped the entire finger inside. 

you cried out, back arching, nails digging into mingi’s hands as you chanted thankyouthankyouthankyou into the air. he added another finger, scissoring them inside of you, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. 

the pit grew again, that tight band that threatened to snap dangerously quick. yunho kept the pace of his tongue against your clit, a brutal rhythm, one begging you to cum all over his face. 

“go ahead doll, cum,” mingi said in your ear, voice still low and hoarse and strung, it was music to your ears. you let the band snap, hips jerking against yunho’s face but he let you ride it out, let you come down before he came up for air. 

“no one’s ever done that before,” you admitted the second yunho was in earshot, still shocked and slightly embarrassed by what he had just done you began babbling. “well, i’ve never had a threesome before so no one’s really had the opportunity to.” 

both yunho and mingi’s heads snapped to look at one another before they looked back at you. yunho’s eyes were wide as he spoke, “this- we are your first threesome? why didn’t you say that?!” 

“why would i tell you that?” you asked in the same shocked tone, chest still heaving from your orgasm. 

“it’s the same reason we didn’t tell you we were packing,” mingi replied from behind you, chest vibrating into your back, “you were scared we’d say no.” 

“we wouldn’t of said no,” yunho interjected as he sat back up on his haunches, throwing your legs around his hips again as he lined himself up, “we just would’ve been nicer, more gentle.” 

“too late for that, put it in,” you were quick in your response, eyes flying to yunho’s cock, making mingi chuckle beneath you. 

yunho lined himself up before he paused again, making you whine and answer him before he had the chance to speak, “i’m green and impatient, i’ll tell you if it hurts. put it in.” 

he smiled before he pushed himself in, face contorting as he was greeted with resistance, but not enough to make him concerned. your eyebrows twisted, eyes closing at the stretch, still a discomfort after coming twice so far.

mingi let go of your hands and brought one finger to your clit, the other hand tweaking at your nipple, trying to make the pleasure outweigh the discomfort. you moaned, a strangled but sweet noise, the stretch was intoxicating. 

yunho sheathed himself inside of you and groaned, his head falling forward, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“still so fucking tight little lady, gotta open up for me or i’m gonna cum,” his voice was low, his breath labored as you tried your best to relax again. 

“yeah, just like that, there we go,” he noticed the release of your core and began rocking himself into you, small grunts turning into louder moans the faster his thrusts became. 

mingi kept up the pace of his fingers with yunho’s thrusts making the pleasure almost blinding, so overstimulating you felt your head go fuzzy again, tongue lolling out of your mouth, your senses leaving you. 

“perfect little pussy taking me so good,” yunho praised, only sending you further into whatever headspace you’d entered. you didn’t even know what sounds were leaving you as yunho’s thrusts became relentless, fucking into you at a speed that had you seeing stars again, your head falling lifelessly onto mingi’s shoulder. the pit in your stomach returned and you wondered how it was possible for the two of them to make you cum nearly three times in one night. 

“yunho, so fucking big,” you tried to muster but your babbles had become incoherent as you grabbed onto mingi’s forearms, nails clawing at the soft skin, stuck between wanting him to stop and wanting him to rub your clit faster, your orgasm right on the brink of crashing over you again. 

your hips started fucking back onto him and your prayers were answered, your cries ascending to almost screams as your stomach snapped again, so loud the twin cowboys were hoping those girls in the living room had left. 

“fuck yes, cum on this cock. give me another,” yunho ordered, hands wrapping around your hips again, pulling you into him harshly. his brain seemed to have gone elsewhere also, the dominance returning, the powerful energy he’d surrounded the space with earlier. 

“again?” you cried, hands coming up to claw at yunho’s forearms instead, “i can’t!” 

“yes you can, baby, cum again. give me another, wanna feel you cum around me,” he was as mindless as you are, eyes empty as he fucked into you at a dangerous pace. 

mingi’s hand slid up your torso and his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly but just enough, the loss of air causing that pit of pleasure to grow again. yunho smiled, a devilish one while his hand came to circle your clit, tipping you over the edge. 

“yes baby, fuck yes, so good for me,” yunho praised as you came around him, the clench of your pussy only aiding his own release. 

“such a good girl,” mingi cooed, grabbing your hands again, kissing your cheek to soothe your now twitching body. yunho only got out three, four, five more pumps inside you before he was emptying himself, coming down to stilling his movements. 

you caught your breath for a second, pussy still pulsing around him, feeling so utterly spent. yunho pulled out and collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, hands dangling atop his chest. 

“color?” yunho asked, that kind smile on his face as he turned to you. 

“green,” you responded, your voice raspy, “but you can’t fuck me again. i won’t be able to handle cumming again for another, like, three days.” 

the twins both laughed at that, mingi pecking small kisses to your cheek before he asked, “should we shower?” 

the three of you showered, all of you resembling something like zombies as you all shared the same vanilla coconut body wash. you went back downstairs after that for food and water, all dressed in white robes the airbnb provided, and the girls that were in the living room earlier were all still there, faces bright red. 

“wanna watch a movie?” you asked the room, the twin cowboys still behind you, and the girls reluctantly agreed, only receiving shy nods of their heads.  the three of you sat on the massive sectional surrounded by your sisters in their pinkest pajamas, with cozy robes and towels twisted around your heads. you ate popcorn, watched once upon a time in the west, and fell asleep with your limbs entangled, cozied up in the fluffiest blankets with two cowboys that’d go down in history in your sorority’s legendary spring break stories.

[rhaenyraeri]

The Soldier’s Mission - Bucky Barnes

minors dni, 18+!!!

Pairing: Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Summary: During a mission, someone recites the Winter Soldier’s trigger words over an intercom of a run down building. This time, it’s different. The Winter Soldier has eyes for you. Only you.

Warnings: smut with very little plot, fingering, winter soldier!bucky, restraints, choking, unprotected p in v, very mild anxiety

first time writing smut hehe

He thought he could handle hearing those words again. But as the intercom of the building echoed through the room those dreaded words, he knew it wasn’t right. The voice was unfamiliar to him. He tried to fight it. This time, the Winter Solider felt different. There was a need to protect. He wanted something.. no, needed, someone. His eyes made their way up from the floor and traced the woman in front of him. You. Those familiar words filling the now deafening silence.

You made eye contact with the deadly assassin, at first afraid. The soldier stepped towards you, and you took a step back. Each step forward, you took back. You weren’t afraid of Bucky, in no way. He was more than perfect, and he showed a side of himself to you that he didn’t to anyone else. He cared so deeply for you, and he dared anyone to lay a finger on you. But here was his past incarnate, backing you up with each loud stomp until you eventually hit a wall. Had you known how to control the Winter Soldier or how to, at least, lessen the blow of what he’s capable of, you would try. There was nothing you could do.

You just watched as he cornered you, his chest rising and falling dramatically. His breathing, almost a slight growl. A growl that you’ve only heard in one other instance. Anytime he had a particularly hard day, and the two of you relieved some of that stress in your shared bedroom by fucking for hours on end. You started to meet his eyes expecting to see that murder filled look that you’d saw years ago when Zemo triggered him during the Sokovia Accords issue. However, when you actually locked eyes with his, you saw his true intentions. They were filled with lust and power. He didn’t touch you, not yet. You raised a hand to his cheek, and his metal arm made his way to yours. You both looked at each other for a second. Your breathing calmed as his remained lustful. He wanted to take you. You were to be his. You were Bucky’s girl, but the Winter Soldier in him wanted you too. You were his objective. His hand left your cheek, traced to your neck, and wrapped around it. Something he’d mentioned he wanted to do a few times but he thought he’d hurt you. The pressure unlocked something in the both of you. Your breathing becoming a little labored as the hand tightened around your neck. He growled again, his eyes scanning your body, then looking into yours again. You could swear the Winter Soldier’s eyes begged the question of, “you sure?,” so you nodded. Even in this state, one you thought to only know to murder his target, he wanted to protect you. You were his mission now, and he needed this mission to be fucked on the spot.

The set of large metal crates beside the two of you now became a surface as he moved you from the wall to lay on them. His hand left your neck, but now moved down to your waist. Both hands now following the curves of your body, making their way down to your pants. “Нужно их снять. (Need them off.),” he muttered. You didn’t know Russian, but you had a pretty good guess as to what he wanted. His hands got to work on your belt, unbuckling it and ripping it out of the loops in one quick movement, slamming it down beside you causing it to make a whipping sound. He ripped the tactical gear off your thigh, throwing it across the room. The solider was getting impatient. There were too many obstacles. His mission is getting delayed. He pulled your pants and underwear down in one quick motion, right to your boots. Snarling again, this time in anticipation. The cold metal arm ran up your inner thigh, the sensation making you shiver. The other went up your shirt, grabbing one of your boobs and giving it a good squeeze. The cold fingers traced right over your pussy, moving up and down a few times before two of them found their way into you, the way you were so incredibly soaked from all this making it more simple than the solider expected. A moan came out of you, and that sound alone caused him to pick his speed up. Even in the Winter Solider mode, Bucky knew exactly what you liked. He knew his cold fingers in your warm pussy was enough to send you over the edge itself, and the solider used that to his advantage. He kept the speed up, and the longer it went on, the more desperate your moans became. His cold thumb ran itself over your clit, and you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your moans got louder, more unstable. He enjoyed watching you writhe under him like this, being submissive to him. Just as you were about to come, he pulled his fingers out and trailed them up your exposed stomach. Again, his eyes met yours. This time, to watch as he put his fingers in your mouth to taste what he’d done to you. The taste of yourself and the faint metal was unfamiliar to you. Sure, Bucky had done that same move before, but never with the arm. Unless he was ripping your clothing off, grabbing the headboard, or caressing your body, he never really used the arm during sex. He was too afraid of not knowing how much pressure is too much. But the Winter Soldier on the other hand, knew how to control the metal arm, and he used it oh so well.

“Отсоси их. Прими все это.” (Suck them. Take it all in.)

And that’s exactly what you did. It was unfamiliar in a good way, one leaving you to want even more of what he could give. He took his fingers out, and brought the cold hand right back down to your sensitive pussy, rubbing it to prepare for what’s he’s got next. His other arm moved to the side of you, grabbing the belt. Anticipation ran through your body. He removed his metal hand from you and used it to hold your hands together up over your head, and buckle you to the metal pipe behind the crates. You wanted to touch him too, but he made it clear that he only wants to touch you. He has an objective, and his mission wouldn’t be complete until he made you cum from fucking you senseless. He stepped back, looking at your figure. Your pants and underwear down at your boots weren’t enough. He needed unblocked access. He grabbed the your boots, unzipped them, and threw them across the room. He didn’t care where they went. Next your pants and underwear, placing them beside you where the belt once was. He spread your legs as far as he could, stepping back again. Almost there. But, your shirt. It was still on. Walking back to your body, he pushed your shirt and bra up until they were above your boobs. For the last time, he stepped back. There it is. Your body was perfect, that he would know in any universe and in any version of himself. The way your pussy glistened in the room’s one bright light and the way you were looking at him had the most animalistic, sexual growl erupt from his throat. He unbuckled his own belt now, and pulled his pants and underwear down. He grabbed his dick, lining it up with you, but stopped. You looked up at him confused. What made him stop? He looked at your throat, then his metal hand, back to your throat, then wrapped that cold hand around your neck with more pressure than earlier. Again, he lined himself up with you, and finally entered you. Starting off slow, he thrusted into you a few times, almost trying to ensure that you wanted this, and once he knew, he picked his speed up. His free hand held your waist, helping brace himself with each thrust. Your chest raised with each heavy breath, and he loved seeing the way you reacted to him. Part of you wished your arms weren’t buckled to the pipe so you could touch him so you wrapped your legs around him to get that little bit of closure. You wanted to run your hands through his hair and pull him down to your face so badly but… you really fucking enjoyed this. Being pretty much helpless at the hands of your boyfriend’s alter self. Deep down, it was still your Bucky, and despite what everyone had said, you knew regardless of being in the Winter Soldier mode or not, he wouldn’t hurt you. He couldn’t handle it. You were the best thing that happened to him.

Slowly the soldier’s growls were mixed with moans, the darkest ones you’d ever heard from the man you loved so much. He took his hand off your waist and grabbed right above your restrained wrists on the pipe. He leaned down, his face close to yours, and kissed you oh so desperately. Knowing the Winter Soldier had more than likely never received even a sliver of that affection before made you wonder exactly why he did that. You couldn’t imagine it being something he thought to do. The moans started to sound more familiar as you both were nearing the end of your pleasure. A few “fuck”’s left you as his speed raised to the fastest yet, eager to get that desperately needed release. His hand tightened just a little more on your throat as he came, and you followed at the same time. His moans were too familiar now.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me. Это было весело. До следующего раза, кукла.” (This was fun. Until next time, doll.)”, he whispered in your ear. That last little bit sounded like the Winter Soldier’s voice but the first? That was your boyfriend. There’s no mistaking that. He pulled out of you, removed his hand from your neck, and released you from the restraints. He fixed his gear and clothing before walking to where he threw your belongings earlier in the night, and brought them back to you. As you also began to fix your gear, you heard a voice.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I, sweetheart?”

It was Bucky. He was out of his Winter Soldier mode.

“It was weird. It was like he and I shared control. I’ve never experienced that before. Are you okay?,” he turned to face you and his eyes had softened. He walked over, putting his hand on your cheek and looked you over to make sure you were okay.

“I’m fine, baby. You didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me. I’m promise you.”

“Thank God. To be honest, doll.. I didn’t get triggered. It was all me. That gear you’ve got on today got me all worked up.”

Your eyes widened. You knew towards the end as he got closer to an orgasm that somewhere, Bucky was in there. He smirked and kissed you, holding you close.

“Not gonna lie, Buck. That was super fucking hot.”

“Maybe we’ll have to revisit him again sometime, baby.”

[hischierhoney]

Someday ⊹₊⟡⋆

Nico Hischier x reader // masterlist

summary: an overheard comment at a team party has Nico spiraling about the future- in the best kind of way. 2.9k

or: stache!nico looks like a dilf so I wrote a breeding kink fic. nobody perceive me.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, breeding kink but like. in a for fun way not an actually trying to get pregnant way, unprotected sex, strong language, mentions of future pregnancy

i blame cece & sabrina carpenter

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Nico asks, his voice ringing out through the softly lit kitchen.

You hum, shaking soapy water off your hands into the sink. “Gonna have to be more specific, babe.”

You figure he’s probably talking about something you said when you were at the Lazar’s house for a football game watch party. He’s been a bit pensive ever since you got home, a bit lost in his own head. Not in a bad way- you know the man well enough to know he’s not upset. He’s just been thinking. When you turn to face him in the kitchen, his bottom lip is pink, like he’s been biting at it, and his brows are slightly furrowed. But his eyes are soft. Warm.

He leans on the island, hands splayed against the granite. He’s studying you. You wrack your brain for what you might’ve said earlier to make him spiral like this. Was it the chilli you asked for the recipe for, or the team you decided to cheer for? Was it your comment about the summer in Switzerland, how you missed it already? Was it-

“You were in the kitchen,” he says. “You were helping feed the baby.”

You blink, your heart fluttering slightly. It’d been one of his teammates’ wives, and she’d been trying to juggle the baby and her toddler, trying to soothe both of them. You’d offered to help, willingly tucked the baby into your arms and gave them a bottle. She’d smiled at you, eyes alight with mischief.

“You’re a natural,” she’d said. “You want one of your own someday?”

You’d nodded, without even thinking about it. “Someday,” you’d agreed. “Nico would make such a good dad. Especially with the mustache, my god.”

She’d laughed. You had, too. And then you’d moved on. You hadn’t even realized Nico had heard it.

“You were eavesdropping,” you tease, gently.

He grins sheepishly. “You looked pretty. With the baby.”

He’s treading lightly. You are, too.

“Had to try and match your DILF energy,” you tell him. When he cocks his head, you continue. “You know. Dad I’d like to-“

“I know,” he interrupts, his cheeks going pink. “You- I… you meant it, though?”

You blink. “Yeah, Neeks. We’ve talked about that, remember? Said we were both open to kids, eventually.”

He nods, swallows. “Yeah. In general. We- when we talked it was so… early. But today you said-“

He pauses. You take a good look at him- really look. The flush on his cheeks, the spread of his palms against the counter. His dark, wide eyes. And suddenly, you think you know.

“Today I said you’d make a good dad,” you fill in, and he blinks, slowly. “Especially with the mustache.”

He rumbles out a laugh, his thumb rubbing against the counter. You push yourself away from your spot and round the island, so you’re within arms reach of him. You can practically feel the heat radiating off his body. Warm like a sunny afternoon.

“I meant it,” you add. His shoulders shake, almost imperceptibly. “Did you like that, baby?”

His eyelids flutter, lashes tangling against his cheeks. “I like you.”

He’s deflecting. You laugh, and without any real effort, you slip under his arm to stand between him and the counter. He’s bracketing you in now, one arm on each side, staring down at you. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. You can feel the weight of his gaze. You can feel the tension rolling off of him- good tension. Like a late summer storm, waiting to break.

You reach up and wind your hands around his neck. He shivers, then repeats the motion when you toy with the ends of his hair where they brush against his neck.

“You can tell me anything, you know,” you say. “I wanna know.”

He leans forward and brushes a chaste kiss to your forehead before he speaks. “I liked it. You saying that.”

You hum and tug on his hair, just slightly. “Yeah?”

He swallows and nods. “Yeah. Maybe a little too much. I mean. I know, someday, you know. Now isn’t the time for… for a baby. But…”

You can feel your face grow warm, feel your own pupils grow wide, feel the way you’re leaning into him already. The tension crackles underneath your skin.

“There’s always time to… practice,” you tell him.

That seems to be all the permission he needs, really. His hands fly from the counter to your hips, cold from the granite but warming up quickly. He leans down to capture your mouth in a heady kiss, one that has you feeling desperate within seconds. He presses you close against the island, then presses himself close to you, close enough that you can feel how hard he is underneath his sweatpants. You gasp against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, hot and insistent and needy.

His hands on your hips slip lower, lower, lower, until he’s cupping your ass, hauling you up and away from the counter. You squeal against his lips when he lifts you up, pulling at your legs to wrap around his waist. It changes the angle, lifts your head higher than his, and you cup his face in your hands to kiss him again, relishing in the soft groan he lets out.

He carries you to the bedroom by memory alone, and you bite back a laugh when he bumps into the wall slightly on the way. You’re not laughing much longer, though, when he stumbles his way to the bed and tosses you down onto it. You yelp, landing with a slight bounce, eyes suddenly wide open as you stare up at him. His shoulders are heaving, eyes wild, mustache sitting proudly above his kiss reddened lips. He’s hesitating.

You reach for the hem of your shirt. “You’re gonna make a hot dad, you know. Mustache and all.”

The groan he lets out is deep and ragged. He lurches towards the bed to lean over you, his hands braced on either side of your head. You grin up at him, happily. He has a smirk on his lips when he reaches down and rips your hands away from the hem of your shirt, pinning them above your head easily, both wrists between one hand. You sigh, flutter your eyelashes at him, and arch your back towards him.

“Let me,” he says. “Let me take care of you.”

You shudder beneath him as the smirk turns to a full on grin. He keeps your hands pinned above your head, but his other hand skates down your body, replacing yours at the hem of your shirt. He toys with the fabric before he slips his hand underneath to brush over your skin. His hands are heated, now, as he shoves the shirt up your body, leaving you exposed to him. You feel yourself growing hazier.

“You take good care of me, always,” you tell him, grinning up at him. “Gonna take such good care of us.”

He groans at that, a guttural sound that has fire licking up your spine. You whine, squirming on the bed beneath him, trying to reach for him, to hold on, to pull him close. He lets out a laugh, keeps your hands pinned, and his other hand slips over to lay flat against your stomach. He holds you down against the bed. Your breath hitches.

“Gonna feel me right here,” he says- promises. “Gonna make you mine.”

He gets your clothes off quickly after that. His clothes follow yours into a pile on the floor. The moment of distraction lets you shift on the bed, wiggling your way up towards the pillows. You roll over, half onto your stomach, reaching towards the headboard to pull yourself farther. Nico doesn’t seem to like that- his hands land on your now bare hips, and he yanks, leaving you yelping and giggling as he pulls you back down towards the end of the bed. There’s laughter on his lips when he finds you again, when he climbs up onto the mattress with you, when he engulfs you, his lips meeting yours again, hot and wet and intoxicating.

He’s more rushed than usual, more frantic. His hand slips between your legs to cup your cunt, groaning at what he finds there. You know you’re soaked- how could you not be, when he looks like that and talks like that and kisses you like that. His fingers drift toward your center, his thumb brushing against your clit, and you whine. You reach up to hold onto him, your hands clawing at his shoulders as he teases you.

“Just want you to fuck me,” you admit, voice high and breathy. “C’mon, Nico-“

“Jesus,” he mutters, dragging his lips against your jaw, his mustache scraping against your skin. “Gonna be the death of me.”

He takes his time, touching you until you’re a whining mess beneath him. When he finally gives in, finally takes his cock in his hand and leans close, you’re practically begging him for it. You can see the way his lashes flutter against his cheeks- he’s feeling it too. He brushes the head of his cock over your center and chews on his bottom lip. The noise he lets out when he sinks into you is close to a sigh. Like he’s relieved. When you look up at him through half lidded eyes, he’s watching you. Watching your face. His brow ticks, and you wonder what he sees there. If he can see the way you’re already falling apart.

He splays his hand across your stomach again- you whimper and squirm beneath him, if only to test the way he’s pinning you down. He sighs, again.

“You take me so well,” he coos.

You keen, your eyelids fluttering shut at the words. When he bottoms out, you hear the groan that leaves his lips, and then you feel it when he ducks his head to mouth at your collarbone. He stays put for a moment, the stubble on his jaw brushing against the sensitive skin of your chest.

Then, he starts to rock his hips, and along with that, he starts to run his mouth.

Nico’s always been a talker, at least towards you- outside of bed and in bed. It’s one of your favorite things about him. On a bad day, he can take your mind off things with a long winded ramble. In bed, he can keep up a running commentary of dirty talk that sends you careening towards the edge far faster than you ever have. But if you’d thought it was something good before, now…

“That’s a good girl,” he groans, grinding against you on the end of a roll of his hips. “Gonna take me so well, huh? Gonna let me fill you up, yeah?”

You cry out beneath him on the next thrust, arching off the bed again, trying to wrap your legs around his waist to keep him there. It’s no use. He keeps you pinned, his hand pressing into your thigh to hold you open for him, his other hand still pressed against your stomach.

“Fuck,” he mutters, panting openly against your chest. “Oh, fuck. Good girl. So good for me.”

You reach up and bury your fingers in his hair, to tug and pull and hold. He groans, again, rolling his hips against yours slowly. You pull, again, with a whine.

“Please,” you mumble, into the open air above you. “Need it, Nico.”

He huffs. And then he really starts to talk, punctuating his sentences with lazy but pointed rolls of his hips. He tells you how good you looked that day, how you’d made his imagination run wild. He tells you how he pictured this. He tells you how someday, he’s going to have you like this for real, take you like this over and over again until it works, until you make him a dad. He cradles your face in his palm and kisses you, lets his hand slip down to hold your throat, and tells you how good you’ll look when he’s finished with you, when he’s left his mark.

You don’t realize the repeated pleas that hang in the air are coming from you until he’s shushing you, gently.

“Please what, baby?” He asks, voice soft and sweet, bordering on patronizing. “Tell me what you need, anything you need.”

He rolls his hips again, shuddering when he presses deep. You bite back a wail, your skin on fire. Your hands have found anchor points now, one twisted in the duvet beneath you, the other clinging to his shoulder, sure to leave marks there. The same way he’s going to leave marks on you. The way he’s going to bury himself deep and come inside of you and-

“Please, Nico,” you cry out, cherishing the way his breath stutters in his chest. “I need it. Need you. Need you to fuck me and fill me up and take me- any way you want, just- please, please-“

He smothers the rest of your words with another kiss. You whine into his mouth, let his tongue twist against yours as you melt into the bed. And, as he’d said, he does exactly as you asked. His thrusts pick up speed, pick up intensity, pick up a new edge. He plants his hands beside your head and takes. When he breaks the kiss, gasping for air against your cheek, you open your eyes to look up at him. His pupils are dark and wide, a feral grin on his lips.

You can feel it coming, can feel yourself teetering on the edge. “Oh, Nico,” you whine.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

He reaches for one of your hands and pulls it to your stomach. He presses his hand over the back of yours, using your own palm to pin you to the bed. You choke on your next breath-it all feels so intense, so heady, so overwhelming.

“Gonna fill you up,” he promises through a groan. “nd then m’gonna do it again. And again. As many times as it takes. And you’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you-“

“Nico,” you gasp,clinging tightly to him. “M’gonna-“

“I know,” he coos. “Just let go, baby. M’right there with you, just-“

When you come around him, he buries himself deep and follows suit. The coil snaps for both of you, and the air is filled with a mix of your sounds. The shockwaves of your orgasm roll through you, and you can feel him coming deep inside you, pulsing and twitching, the way he promised he would, while your vision goes white.

You collapse back onto the bed, utterly spent. He follows quickly after, blanketing you with his body, his face buried in your neck. Your ears ring, loudly, and leftover stars dance in your vision. When you finally come back around, you realize he’s mumbling words into your skin. A mix of English and Swiss German, barely coherent-

“So good for me, schatz, so- verdammte hölle. Take me so well. My good girl. Gonna knock you up. Someday. Someday I’ll do this for real. Eines tages, baby.”

“Nico,” you gasp out, again, and he lifts his head, resting his chin against your collarbone, atop his hand.

“There she is,” he says. “You okay?”

You nod frantically. “So good. That was so good.”

He nods in agreement and rests his cheek against his hand, blinking up at you softly. “It’s like your song.”

You blink, frowning at him. “Huh? My song?”

He nods, drumming his fingers against your collarbone. “You know. The Sabrina one. I might let you make me Juno. That song.”

You blink wildly, your heart twisting, squirming beneath him. Because yeah, you know the song. The one about being so in love you’d let him get you pregnant. One of me is cute, but two though? You’ve had it stuck in your head for days, have been humming it nearly nonstop. Of course he noticed.

“I would, you know,” you tell him. “I’d let you.”

He rumbles out a laugh, eyelids fluttering against his cheeks again. “Good. Stop squirming. Stay put. Gotta make sure it takes.”

You shiver. “Nico.”

You know he knows you’re on birth control. You know he’s not really being serious. But god, it’s hot to think about it. To hear him say it. To feel him pin you to the bed with one hand, his other hiking your leg over his hip.

In response, he rolls his hips against yours, still buried inside of you. You quiver, your hands flying up to his shoulders, nails already scraping at his skin.

“Nico,” you sigh, though you have a feeling it’s no use. “S’too much. Can’t.”

He hums against your collarbone and repeats the motion. Then he reaches up, grabs your wrists, and pulls them down against the bed. He intertwines his fingers with yours, hands next to your head.

“Yes, you can,” he says. “You always take me so well, you can give me one more.”

You whine, but you’re nodding, too.

“Someday,” he adds. “I’ll do this for real. And I’ll do it over and over until it works. M’never gonna get enough of you. Could never get enough.”

You whine his name again. He shushes you, soft and warm.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Always do, always will.“

His thrusts are lazy, rhythmless. He’s in no hurry this time. He’s got all the time he wants. You melt into the bed and dream of someday.

…..

a/n: thank you for reading! come scream about mustache!nico with me in the inbox!

[venusbyline]

sorry Hannigram shippers but i don't wanna be Hannibal's children

I DON'T WANNA HAVE HANNIBAL AS MY FATHER, I NEED HIM AS MY DADDY!!!!

anyway, happy birthday Mads Mikkelsen. the girls and the gays lysm <3