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readwritealldayallnight · 2 months ago

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Part 2 of ‘Bird Watching’ aka hot construction worker Simon x single mom

In truth, lying was something that came second nature to Simon Riley

He’d lied to his teachers in school about where he got his bruises and burn marks from, if they bothered to ask

He’d lied to his brother while their parents argued on the other side of the wall, telling him that everything would be okay

He’d lied to his dad about where he’d been all night, telling him he was making less money at the butcher job than he really was

Whatever lie he had to give to get through the day, get through the night, get through his childhood, he would offer up without so much as batting an eye

And as he got older, he started stretching the truth for different reasons

Whatever his CO’s needed to hear from him in order to let him do his job, then he’d let them hear it, true or not

Whenever people started asking too many questions, well-equipped sarcasm became his right hand man in avoiding the truth

Lying had always come in handy for Simon, whether it was a life or death situation or goading Soap into believing an obviously fictitious story, carefully chosen words and slight exaggerations had never steered him wrong before

This one, however?

Well, as he sat in an all too colourful daycare office with murals of ducks and bunnies watching over his every move, Simon began to wonder if this was one lie he shouldn’t have told

But then again, he wasn’t telling this lie out of malice, or greed, or ill-intent… he was doing this for you

Because at the end of the day, he’d be lying to no one apart from himself if he were deny how often you popped into his head

Ever since he’d first squinted through the glaring sun and spotted you through that flimsy chain link fence, since he’d heard your voice over the rumble and roar of construction behind him, since he’d spent less than ten whole minutes talking to you, it was as though something within him had started brewing, started changing

Similar to two live wires coincidentally meeting until an inevitable spark shoots through the air, akin to a wind chime that hadn’t rang out in years suddenly beginning to sway to and fro with the promise of strong winds on the horizon, or closer yet to that moment Franklin’s key and kite were struck by lightning and history was forever changed, meeting you had stirred something loose within Simon

For too long now, Simon felt as though he were nothing more than a man stuck behind the wheel, lost in the storm on an infinite stretch of road that would never lead him towards home, no matter how many maps or compasses or tools he may have, he was on a steady cruise control headed nowhere

But since he’d met you, since he’d learned about the situation you were in, you and your sweet little baby bird just as alone as him and up against the world, since he’d made up his mind and decided he’d help you in whatever capacity you’d allow, it was almost as if the fog had cleared from his tired eyes, as though he was finally glancing up from the maps and realizing that ‘home’ could be down any stretch of road he took, if he was willing to take it

You’d stumbled into his life on an afternoon like any other, instantly making a home for yourself in the recesses of his brain by that very same evening

His eyes now were constantly glancing at the phone number now tacked onto his fridge as he went about his routine, your smile appearing behind his eyelids as he tried in vain to fall asleep at night, or the image of the soft swell of your cleavage bouncing as you’d walked away playing on a loop in his mind until he’d accept he wasn’t going to be getting any shut eye until he allowed his hands to slip beneath the blankets

His early mornings were no longer spent cursing having to be up before the sun, instead he found himself staring at the empty spot across from him at the table, wondering if you were awake too, perhaps trying to soothe a fussy baby back to sleep, or feeding her from the same swollen breasts Simon selfishly wished he could suckle from as well

Or were you still laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you too struggled to fall asleep? Too worried about finding your baby bird a spot somewhere before the money ran out? Stressing yourself over things that Simon wished he could fix for you? That he knew he could fix for you?

Less than 24 hours after your first conversation, Simon had hounded just about every living and breathing soul working on the construction site, determined to come up with at least some bit of information, someone to contact, something that would lead him in the right direction, but everyone seemed to be just as in the dark as he was

He wasn’t easily deterred however, nor was he lacking in imagination, when he decided he was unwilling to return to his flat that night without being at least one step closer to having a valid excuse for calling the number that called out to him each time he walked through his kitchen, and so if no one apart from Simon happened to notice that every single blueprint disappeared from the site that night, well that was just unfortunate wasn’t it?

He’d nearly missed the phone call he’d been hoping to get the next morning, preoccupied with having to change his bed sheets after having dreamt of you again all night as visions of your soft body had him feeling like a teenaged boy again, he managed to snag his phone just before the ringer ended

As expected, the site manager had been on the other line, practically beside himself as he told Simon how he’d arrived at the site and discovered that some troublesome teenagers must have snuck in during the night and done away with their building plans, asking Simon if he wouldn’t mind driving to the supervisor’s office and snagging some copies

Simon had already been halfway out the door before he’d hung up

The foreman’s office was cluttered beyond belief, disorganized chaos he sifted through carefully to find the one piece of information he needed, and there amongst the loose papers and pencils and measuring tapes, was the next piece to the puzzle he was slowly solving; the buyers contact information

The blueprints were delivered back to the site in no time, having been kept safe in the back of Simon’s truck the entire time, and a carefully concocted story about needing to run to grab supplies for the job was believed by everyone as the tall man climbed back in behind the wheel and weighed his options

He could reach out to you now, he’d been able to find you the owner’s name, along with an email and phone number to contact, the promise he’d made to you was done, his duty fulfilled

He knew he could call, and you’d be overjoyed to hear from him, that you would be eternally grateful for his help, thanking him endlessly… but that would be the end of it, wouldn’t it? His role would be fulfilled, his duty done and over with, no other valid excuses for you to keep him within your orbit, he’d just be a kind stranger who’d done you an incredibly kind favour

But as Simon pondered that choice, he wondered, why stop here?

You were alone with a newborn, stressed enough as it was, you didn’t need more work being added onto your already full plate, he may as well go the extra mile and help you out even more, right?

At least, that’s what Simon kept telling himself now, as he sat in a too small chair inside of a much too colourful office, avoiding the judgemental eyes of the painted woodland creatures staring at him, as though they knew what his intentions were, waiting for none other than the owner herself

“Hi there, sorry to have kept you waiting.” The woman says as she walks in, reaching a hand out to greet him as he stands to meet her halfway. “My assistant director says you’re here from our newest expansion? The East end location?”

“Yes ma’am, that’d be the one.” Simon offers politely, lowering himself back into the chair he hardly fits in once she rounds the desk and sits down as well. It would make sense that that was what her assistant has told her, as that was the story Simon had offered, reasoning that he had to speak with the owner about the project, not giving them much choice when he showed up to the office unannounced

“There aren’t any issues with construction so far, are there? We shouldn’t be expecting any delays?” She questions, getting straight to the point. Simon appreciates that she isn’t wasting any time with small talk, he also wants this done quick, he’s got a pretty bird waiting on him after all

“No ma’am. Everythin’s on track so far.” He replies easily, omitting the small hiccups she doesn’t need to know about. “M’afraid that’s not why I’m ‘ere today.”

“Well, what can I help you with then?” She questions, an over plucked brow raising as she tilts her head

“Had a few questions ‘bout the nursery we’re buildin’ for ya.”

“Oh, well- I believe the specifications were in the plans for-”

“Not so much ‘bout the building itself, ma’am.” He cuts her off, not unkindly, but clarifying his point. “Was more so wondering ‘bout- well, it’s a decently big plot o’ land we’re working on. How many lil’ ones are meant be in there?” He asks, trying his best to ease his way into this conversation

“Currently, plans are set to have two preschool classes, two toddlers classes, as well as an infant class. With full capacity we could have up to 88 children in the centre. Why are-”

“How many of those spots are for the babes?”

“We can have up to 10 infants at most.”

“Alrigh’, and how many o’ those spots are available?” He finally asks, cutting to the chase, ripping the bandaid off. Simon watches understanding cross her face and she lets out a small scoff, not rude, but more so like she knew she should have expected as much

“Ah, I see now.” She says with a knowing smile sent his way. “I appreciate your interest in our centre, and I understand nursery spots have been scarce in the city, but I have to be honest sir, we do have a wait list policy. There are numerous families already signed up wi-”

“It’s a little girl.” Simon cuts her off firmly this time, not wanting to entertain whatever rejection she was preparing to give him. No, he wouldn’t be leaving here without good news for you, he couldn’t do that. He ignores the painted birds mocking eyes as he steels himself as presses on. “She’s just a tiny thing. Eight weeks old, almost nine now I suppose. Her mum’s got to be back to work, hasn’t got much of a choice. There’s no family ‘round to help or nothin’. She needs this spot for her.”

The woman’s lips thin as she looks at him with understanding, with sympathy, none of the things Simon cares to see unless she’s nodding her head in agreement. He knew it might take a little push to convince whoever was behind the desk to do the right thing, to help him do right by his birdie and her baby bird, and so he’s not ashamed, nor above saying:

“I’ll make sure the job’s done early.”

At this, both her brows now shoot up, obvious intrigue now painted across her features as she blinks at him.

“Pardon?”

“I will see to it that everything is ready ahead of schedule. Personally. The sooner the place is open, the sooner you start making money, the sooner kids are in and sooner parents are happy. Everyone wins.”

Simon watches her ponders his words, gears turning in her head as she thinks it over. She could easily refute him, call him out for being out of line and send him on his way, tail tucked between his legs. But Simon knows a desperate person when he sees one, knows just what people want to hear, and so he isn’t surprised when she’s suddenly standing from her desk, crossing the room to shut the slightly ajar door, and he smiles to himself slightly, knowing he’s won.

“Now when you say ahead of schedule-”

“Could have ‘er ready by the end of the month. I’ll pull the strings, make it happen. You leave it to me and it’ll be done.” He answers easily, confidently, like there is no question in his mind he can offer up such promises and see them through to fruition. Hell, he’d build the entire goddamn thing by himself day and night if that’s what she wanted to hear, whatever would convince her

“I mean-” she says, letting out a long sigh as she leans back in her chair, opening up a drawer and rummaging through for something or another. “I can’t lie, this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve made exceptions for someone, especially one of our own builders.”

Simon nods along, pleased with the way this is going thus far, though things take an abrupt turn when she next says:

“I would still like to meet with your wife and daughter first, just to iron out the enrolment details and confirm whether this would be a good fit, but I can- I could potentially find a way to make this work.”

And Simon knows this is the moment where he’s supposed to correct her, where he’s supposed to speak up and clarify that no, you aren’t his wife and she isn’t his daughter, that she’s misunderstood him and that the two of you are strangers he met earlier this week- fuck he doesn’t even know your baby’s name yet for crying out loud- all of this could fall apart tremendously as soon as she asks even a single question that he won’t have the answer to, potentially jeopardizing this entire thing for you and her, and yet-

“Brilliant. The missus will be thrilled.”

Next chapter

Alrighty first off, apologies for the delay between posts, writers block and life in general are so ew, but we’re so back babe

All the love on the first part was so unexpected and so so appreciated!!! Y’all have me looking like this with every comment and reblog and tag-

Gonna strive to have part 3 out before the end of the weekend hopefully, don’t want to keep you all waiting so long again

- M 🫶🏻

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x you #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost fanfic #call of duty ghost #ghost cod #cod simon riley #simon fluff #readwritealldayallnight

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rawjutsu · 14 days ago

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minisode 01

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

the water hits scorching hot, but satoru barely feels it.

he’s braced against the tiled wall, one hand fisting his thick cock at a brutal pace, the other planted above his head like it’s the only thing keeping him from collapsing. his snow-drenched hair sticks to his forehead. steam curls around his heaving chest.

fangs sink into his bottom lip—hard—to keep the groan inside.

you. it’s you again. your stupid little shirt, your stupid bunny tits with those stiff nipples poking right through the cotton, like they’re just begging for his mouth. his teeth. a little scrape, a little nip. nothing serious. he wouldn’t even bite that hard.

maybe a mark. something small. something just for him.

“fffuck—” he hisses, eyes scrunched shut as he pumps harder, wrist snapping with desperate rhythm.

his brain’s a blur of sensory memory: the sway of your hips in that pathetic little hostess skirt, your button nose scrunching when you glare at him like you’re not the cutest thing he’s ever seen, your ears twitching back flat in slight fear when he laughs too loud, too close, too much.

and then—like lightning—a fantasy jolts through him: you, pinned under him, crying and begging while he jackhammers into you, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other tugging hard on your fluffy ears. you’d squeal. maybe kick a little. maybe claw at his arms like you’re not soaked for it.

his tail lashes behind him, wet and agitated, as his orgasm slams through him.

cum paints the tiled wall in thick, hot ropes.

he groans into the steam, panting, watching it slide down the tiles. watching it swirl into the drain like he didn’t just cum so hard his knees buckled.

such a fucking waste.

hours later, you push the bathroom door open, towel slung over your shoulder, sleepy after your shift.

and immediately—you freeze.

your nose twitches. your ears shoot up.

the musk hits you like a truck.

thick. sharp. male. pungent and hot and unmistakably predator. it smells like danger and sex and something a little too ripe to be normal. your legs tremble. your thighs clench instinctively.

you backpedal, nearly tripping over the bathmat, and bolt back to your room—slamming the door shut behind you.

you sit on the edge of your bed, wide-eyed, heart racing.

heat churns in your belly.

no. no no no. you’re not doing this.

you refuse to think about what he must’ve been doing in that shower. about the way his tail twitches when he stretches, the size of his hands, the heat in his eyes when he stares a little too long.

you squeeze your thighs together.

you should've stayed on your parent’s little farm.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

taglist: @satorupied, @mashtura, @auucz, @littlemissfix-itfic, @luv3nti, @sukunawhores, @nx-0w, @rh-tg1, @sugacor3, @victoria1676, @arabellasolstice, @qardasngan, @entr4p3, @maddy24207, @maah-sama, @izzybluebells, @penguingirlanzu, @levislug, @moonlight-inthe-sea,

#fresh out the oven𓂃 ࣪⋆🧁˚ ༘#snow leopard hybrid gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk blurb #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo blurb #gojo fanfic #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut

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beloveds-embrace · 6 months ago

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The day begins like any other.

You wake up to the soft sound of the morning breeze rustling the curtains, sunlight spilling into the room in gentle golden streams. John is already gone, leaving only the faintest trace of warmth in the bed beside you. It’s no surprise- he’s a man of duty, all of them are, always rising early to tend to matters of the estate. But as you stretch and let out a soft sigh, you have no idea the storm you’re about to stir in his household.

You dress yourself today, in one of the lighter gowns Kyle had set out for you the night before. It’s soft and flowing, another gift from Simon, a delicate ivory fabric that catches the light and makes you glow as if spun from sunlight itself. You think nothing of it- it’s a comfortable gown, one that’s perfect for the warm weather of today. You fix your hair, a few strands left free to frame your face. It’s a simple look, practical even.

But it is enough to absolutely ruin them.

John is the first to catch sight of you.

You find him in his study, poring over letters and documents, glasses perched low on his nose. The moment he looks up, his quill halts mid-stroke, ink dripping onto the parchment below.

You don’t notice the way his breath hitches. You don’t see the way his eyes darken as they sweep over you, lingering far longer than they should on the soft curve of your throat, the swell of your breasts just barely visible through the gauzy material of your dress, the delicate shape of your collarbone begging to be kissed.

“… My Duchess,” he greets, voice low and strained.

You smile, unaware of how the simple gesture strikes him like a bolt of lightning straight through his chest. “Good morning, John. I didn’t mean to disturb you- I was just going to the gardens.”

His jaw tightens. God, you’re beautiful. Ethereal. Untouchable, almost, and yet here you are- his wife. His to hold, his to cherish, his to adore. The mere thought of it makes his heart pound painfully in his chest.

You’re so sweetly oblivious, so utterly trusting. You lean over his desk, pointing at one of the letters as you ask about estate matters, and all he can focus on is the faint scent of roses lingering on your skin and the warmth of your breath against his cheek. He aches to pull you into his lap, to ruin that pretty dress and leave you breathless and marked, but-

“My Duchess,” he rasps again, standing abruptly. You blink up at him, startled. “Don’t linger in the sun too long. I shall see you later.” It’s the only warning he can give himself before he brushes past you and leaves the room, his restraint hanging by a thread.

Kyle finds you next, standing in the rose garden with a soft smile as you hum to yourself. You’re radiant, the sunlight catching in your hair and making you glow like some goddess of nature.

He was supposed to be bringing you tea. Instead, he stands there frozen, tray in hand, just watching.

You turn and catch sight of him, greeting him with that bright, lovely smile that never fails to make his heart lurch. “Kyle!”

He clears his throat quickly, straightening his shoulders and bringing the tray over, though he’s painfully aware of the warmth creeping up his neck.

“My lady,” he murmurs, setting the tea down on the garden table and pouring for you. His hands are steady, but his mind isn’t.

He barely hears you as you speak about the roses, about the arrangements for the next gathering. His thoughts are clouded by the way you keep brushing your hair behind your ear, the gentle tilt of your head as you sip your tea, the way your lips press together so sweetly.

You lean forward suddenly, reaching to brush a leaf off his shoulder, and Kyle stiffens. You don’t notice.

“You’re always taking such good care of me, Kyle,” you say softly, smiling up at him. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He only nods stiffly, stepping back quickly before he does something utterly improper.

Johnny is the worst of them.

You come into the kitchen around noon, asking him for a small snack to hold you over until dinner since you had a small lunch. He’s elbow-deep in flour and dough, sleeves rolled up and shirt slightly damp with sweat, but the second he sees you standing in the doorway, his brain completely short-circuits.

“Johnny?” you call again softly, stepping in.

He drops the spoon that’d been near, cursing as he scrambles to pick it up and then cursing again because his hands are now dirty. Yet- his eyes keep flicking up to you- how you look so soft and delicate in the kitchen’s golden light, how the dress hugs your figure and makes it so damn hard for him to focus.

You laugh at the sight of him like this, and the sound is like honey poured straight into his veins.

“Sorry, m’lady.” he says, voice rough, but you’re already stepping closer.

“It’s alright.” You reach past him to grab a plate, and he just about groans aloud at the way you brush against him, soft and warm and plush and utterly unaware of the effect you have on him.

“Johnny?” You look up at him, eyes so wide and trusting.

“Yeah?” He barely recognizes his own voice.

“You’re staring.”

He chokes, turning back to wash his hands as quickly as possible. “Sorry, m’lady. I’ll- uh- I’ll make something quick for you, promise.”

You only smile, sitting down at the counter and watching him work. He feels your gaze like a brand, burning into his skin, and he has never been so grateful for the long apron covering the very obvious evidence of his distraction.

And then there’s Simon.

You don’t even realize he’s there, watching you from the shadowed corner of the room as you flip through the books in the library. You hum softly to yourself, trailing your fingers over the spines, your dress shifting with every movement.

Simon feels like a beast barely kept on a leash. He’s gripping the edge of the shelf so tightly his knuckles have gone white, jaw clenched so hard it aches.

He wants you. Needs you.

You tilt your head to read a title, exposing the curve of your neck, and his breath catches. He imagines what it would feel like to press his lips there, to hear you gasp as he holds you close-

And then you turn and spot him.

“Simon!” You smile, moving toward him without hesitation, and he’s utterly undone.

“Hello, darling.” he murmurs, low and strained. Knows that he if lifts his hand to cup your cheek, his fingers would be trembling.

“I was just looking for something to read.” You say, so casually, so obliviously, as if you aren’t standing there looking like every single one of his fantasies come to life.

Simon only nods, forcing himself to step back before he does something he can’t take back.

By the time evening falls, the tension in the house is unbearable.

John’s jaw ticks as he watches you lean over the table, in a private dining room just for them, laughing at something Johnny said. Kyle’s eyes darken when he sees how your fingers brush against Simon’s as you pass him a dish. Johnny keeps flexing his hands as if he’s trying to resist the urge to grab you and pull you into his lap.

They’re all desperate, wound tight, and utterly at their limit.

And you- blissfully unaware- just keep smiling sweetly at them, unknowingly fanning the flames.

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jayparked · 10 months ago

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𝓂𝓊𝓈𝒾𝒸 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝓎 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 | 𝒿𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑔 | 𝓂

snippet: "Ride me." Jay huffs. It's a command, not a request. He moves back to the head of the bed, adjusting the pillows before leaning back against them. Lifting the covers away from his body, he removes his boxers slowly. looking into your eyes as he does so. pairing: park jongseong x female reader genre: smut au: music producer jay, established relationship rating: explicit/18+, minors dni word count: 9.7k warnings: thunder and lightning storms, cigarette smoking sexual warnings: early morning sex, unprotected sex, lots of moaning, y/n tries to be a brat but jay aint having it, forced orgasm, oral (female and male receiving), jay almost lets y/n dom but then quickly changes his mind, spitting/mentions of drool, fingering, biting, marking, light bruising (from fingernails and biting), choking, language, some light foot worship, jay just really needs y/n to moan the way she did earlier so he can use it for his track, voice recording, brief use of sex toys i.e: restraints and vibrator, begging, whimpering, overstimulation, dirty talk, cigarette use, uhh jay uses the ashes from his cigarette on y/n’s nipples as a stimulant..., there’s some real good aftercare in there too so don’t worry, they’re like...grossly in love

The sound of the rain pitter pattering against the window is what initially draws you from your slumber. It falls rhythmically in a way that would normally lull you back to sleep, but the loud, harsh, fast contact of the water against the glass is almost flinch worthy. It isn’t an ordinary skylight window above a bed. The bedroom walls are slanted invertedly so that when you’re lying on the bed and look up, the window is slanted right above you. You watch as the raindrops hit the window and slowly slide down.

Yawning, you stretch out your arms and feel your muscles tighten before relaxing and you sigh softly with pleasure. You rub your eyes with your fists, blinking quickly as the moonlight escapes past the clouds barrier and cascades across your face causing you to squint annoyedly. Jay loves leaving the specially built blinds up at night, something you had to grow accustomed to after some time living together. Night after night watching him gaze wistfully towards the moon, it became your favorite part of your nightly routine. Watching that look of childish wonder gloss over your boyfriend’s eyes...there’s just nothing like it.

Tonight, the sky isn’t so peaceful. Lightning angrily streaks across the sky making you jump and clutch the flannel sheets to your chest.

"It wake you up too?"

You gasp, a sharp intake of breath causes your voice to squeak.

"You scared me, Jay!" You slap your boyfriend's shoulder lightly with the palm of your hand. He chuckles and rolls onto his side to face you, black hair swooping down over his forehead, just above his very awake looking eyes.

"Sorry. The thunder woke me up a little while ago. I was waiting for it to get you next." The edges of his eyes pinch together as he smirks, his voice sounding more sultry than playful. You shake your head trying to distract yourself from leading your mind down that alley. But it's hard when he looks that good and especially since you just had a dream about his-

"So. Now that we're both up..." he whispers and runs his pointer finger down your arm from your shoulder to your fingertips. "What should we do?" His big innocent eyes are all a ploy, you know that for sure. His pupils are blown out and his breathing is uneven. He knows exactly what he wants to do...and you're not sure if you're against it.

"How about..." you start slowly. You run your hand up his naked chest, feeling his muscles flex under your palm. He sighs and closes his eyes, completely enjoying the feeling of your hand rubbing against his bare skin. His sleep swollen lips part open and you can hear his breaths coming out sharp and quick, his heart rate rising quickly. You guide your hand down his chest and over his abdomen which makes him take in a sharp breath between his teeth. Jay's eyes remain closed so it's easier to marvel over the way his bottom lip starts to quiver, or the way the moonlight cascades shadows off his eyelashes, or the way his cock becomes more and more visible as it hardens under the sheets.

"How about we go back to sleep!" You say excitedly and remove your hand from your boyfriend's body. You throw your head back into your pillow and quickly close your eyes, pretending to instantly fall back asleep. If only it was that easy, right?

"I think we both know there's no point in sleeping now," Jay says, a low growl vibrating deep in his throat. He grasps the sheets in his hand and with one quick motion he throws them off your bodies and onto the floor. Cold air coats your skin and you tuck your knees up to your chest to try to keep in the warmth.

"Oh. Don't worry." Jay grabs your shoulders and turns you on your back, grasping your knees and opening up your legs so that he could kneel between them. "I'll warm you up real quick."

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, your stomach on fire with anticipation of what's to come. A streak of bright lightning flashes outside once more, followed by a loud clap of thunder over your heads. Jay moves his hand from your shoulder and rubs his palms up and down your thighs- the warmth of his skin makes you sigh and your shoulders relax further into the bed as his hands get further and further up your leg. He gets closer and closer to the edge of your pajama shorts, each time his hands move up and down your legs you're annoyingly aware of the nearness. Like a magnet, your hips move downward to shift your body closer to him, trying so desperately to close that distance. All you want is for him to reach his long fingers underneath your shorts and relieve all of the tension building up at your clit.

"You still with me?" His voice is sultry, almost grainy. He leans back against his heels, now even further away from your heat. But that doesn't stop his roaming hands. Jay's thumb rubs against your talus and moves down to the arch of your foot. At first you flinch from the contact, his fingers tickling your skin. But you relax as he continues to massage your feet, total bliss overtaking your body.

"Sorry," you sigh out. "Feels so good."

Jay smiles, the hunger gone from his eyes for a moment and in their place is the look of a caretaker wanting to bring comfort. He longingly looks at your foot as he continues to massage it and as you look at him you can see clearly how much he loves you. With every soft and delicate touch down to the way he treats every inch of your body as if it were a prized gem.

But then the hunger returns and he moves away from your feet, crawling up towards your face until his lips are mere centimeters away from yours. The heat from his breath makes you hold in your own breathing, your lips parting, desperately wanting for him to kiss you.

This small action does not go unnoticed and Jay prides himself in his ability to have you wrapped around his beautifully long fingers. "Is there something you want?" His lips barely brush over the tops of your own with his annunciation of 'you want'. Shivers run down your spine and your eyes flutter closed, tilting your chin up towards him and elongating your neck. Jay lets his eyes roam over your body, licking his lips as he focuses on the spot of your neck that he knows is extra sensitive.

"What do you want?" His voice is so soft, far beyond a whisper or even a murmur and it completely contrasts against the ever nearing booming of thunder. There's a hidden softness behind his eyes as he peels them away from your body to look into your own. His bangs are falling over his eyes again and you take your hand to sweep them away. Instead of resting your hand back at your side, you cup his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Sighing, you can only manage to get out one word in response, "You."

Both of your lips pull together with a force stronger than magnets. There's a faint remnant of smoke hidden behind his breath that's so addicting you can't help but deepen the kiss further. Tongues swirl together and it feels like you've slipped into a dream. One of his hands cradles the small of your back while the other one weaves fingers into your hair. A light tug on your scalp makes you moan into Jay's mouth and he replies hungrily by taking your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling gently yet hard enough to make your head lean forward so that your shoulders lift off the bed.

Jay pulls your body forward more, the hand on the small of your back raising you up until you're both sitting facing one another. His chest feels warm to the touch despite the chill that lingers in the room. You don't blame him though. Your body also feels like it's radiating more heat than normal. With each kiss adds a whole other degree to the body temperature between the two of you. And you just can't get enough.

"Ride me." Jay huffs. It's a command, not a request. He moves back to the head of the bed, adjusting the pillows before leaning back against them. Lifting the covers away from his body, he removes his boxers slowly. looking into your eyes as he does so. This man is so confident it's almost unsettling. But you know he knows how much you love watching him undress. And it wouldn't be Jay if he wasn't teasing you in some way.

The band of his boxers dips below his hips, exposing his deep muscle lines. The bulge of his cock is so prominent it's making your mouth water and legs twitch with anticipation. Finally, he pulls them all the way down and releases his hardened cock from its cotton cage. He looks harder than normal, the redness of his skin a whole new shade of red than before. A large vein pulses at you, encouraging you to get closer and indulge in all the pleasures it offers you.

When Jay's hand grasps his shaft and strokes lazily, that's when your mind starts to feel hazy. Your mouth starts to salivate and that burning need between your legs is growing so intensely if you don't act on it soon you just might combust right here in this very spot.

You crawl towards your boyfriend slowly, watching him leisurely pump his cock in a way a cat would watch a mouse eat. Batting his hand away, you take his thickness in both of your hands, feeling the warm blood pump through his veins. Jay winces as you grip him a little tightly, the tip of his cock nearly throbbing in your hands from the pressure. You lean over him and open your mouth slightly, allowing a bead of drool to drop down and run down the side of his shaft.

"Fuck." Jay leans his head back against the headboard and moans.

"I'm so hungry for you," you purr and flatten your tongue against the side of his cock and lick one long stripe up to the tip, swirling your tongue around it before sliding your tongue back down again. Jay moans underneath you, muscles already shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Do you want me to suck you off or ride you?" You continue to use your tongue to play with him, licking down to the base of his cock before leaving little love bites at the base of his stomach and along his hip bones. Using one of your hands, you reach upward and apply pressure as your hand climbs up his stomach muscles, feeling every curve against your palm until you get to his chest and repeat the motion downward. Another moan leaves his beautiful lips and you can't help but smirk as you realize you could do this all day. Watching him melt in your hands and seeing him mentally debate with himself was a power surge unlike any other.

“Ri-ride me. I want you to ride me.” The words barely come out audible. His eyes are wide as he blinks rapidly, trying his best to stay present, his jaw and neck muscles bulging. He’s so close to the edge you think about ignoring his request. If you just suck him off all the way through, there would be punishment. No doubt about that. As appealing as being punished by your super sexy boyfriend might be, you decide to abide by his request and position yourself over him, your entrance hovering over his weeping cock.

“No more teasing.” The pleading tone is gone from his voice. Instead, it’s commanding and authoritative.

But you choose to ignore that once again.

“Can you even last?” You stick your tongue out playfully, gently biting down as you smirk. Your hands roam over his chest and lightly graze his nipples, a small act that normally drives him insane and right now you can see the clear focus in his eyes. You picked the wrong night to try to be playful.

“Fuck it. You wanna play games? I can play games.” In one sweeping motion, Jay has you on your back, his body hovering over yours. His hand is back on the small of your back, his fingertips gently kneading the muscles of your flesh before he digs his nails in, leaving a trail of scratch marks down your spine.

He tilts his head to the side as he looks into your eyes, pausing to think about something that thrills you to your bones. You’ve never been with a more imaginative partner before and although sometimes his ideas seem scary at first, you trust him completely.

“Oh,” he says simply. “You thinking about something interesting?”

“I’m thinking about all the ways I want you to fuck me.”

“Oof. What a foul mouth you have. Such vulgar words coming out of those pretty lips of yours. I’d fill it if I wasn’t so inclined to fuck that pussy of yours.”

You hitch in a breath, that tingling sensation spurring back to life deep within your core.

As if reading the thoughts of your body, he moves one hand slowly down your midsection, pausing right above your pelvic area. You want to rub your thighs together, hell, you want to touch yourself- no screw that, you need him to fuck you right here and right now. A floodgate of desire opens up within you and you need his cock inside of you. Now.

“Jay please, please fuck me. I need you inside me. I need to feel you.” It came out whinier than you initially intended, but now’s not the time to dwell on one’s tone.

Completely and utterly satisfied with his victory, Jay lines his cock up with your entrance, the tip of his head brushing past your folds and picking up the slick coming out of you. Moaning with the contact, as little as it may be, you try to scoot down further to feel him against your clit. But he holds your hips down firmly in place. You’re not going anywhere unless he wants you to move.

Jay pauses and turns around, grabbing your pillow. You push on your feet, lifting your ass off the bed so that he can rest the pillow underneath there. Now, slightly elevated, he has a better angle and a straight accessway to your g-spot.

Leaning forward, Jay lightly wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly. Your eyes flutter backwards, already at risk of coming undone from the buildup alone. His pointer finger is pressing right where the sensitive spot on your neck is underneath your ear and it takes everything you have to keep yourself from moaning like a sick person.

The head of his cock teases your entrance once more, getting closer and closer until literally just the tip goes inside before he abruptly pulls back out.

“Please. No more teasing.” You beg, wiggling your shoulders as you pout.

“Not so funny now that you’re on the other end, huh?” Jay lowly chuckles and that’s when he thrusts his hips forward, his cock sliding right into you.

“Oh!” You yell as the tip brushes against your g-spot instantly. Your gasp gets caught in your throat because of his hand around your neck and you nearly swallow your own words. The restricted airways has your head feeling lighter than normal and it gives you a new high that’s impossible to feel if he would have done this without his hand squeezing your neck. Your walls contract instinctually around him, desperately trying to adjust to his length and girth. The light tug feels so satisfying and you grip his forearms tightly, fingernails leaving small half-moon shaped marks in his skin.

“Ugh, you’re so wet and still so tight,” Jay whines and slowly moves his hips back and forth, not enough to remove the head of his cock from you, but enough to brush against your bundle of nerves over and over and over again. He releases his hand from your neck and moves it down on the bed to support himself as he quickens his pace.

Arching your back already, you shut your eyes tightly as you try to keep yourself from coming too soon.

Not quite sure if it’s the angle, the day, or the way he’s rhythmically moving his hips, but this all feels too good. Even more so than sex with Jay usually is. The way he's pounding you into the mattress has your body contorting in what should be inhuman ways. Your arms bend as you grip the sheets above your head, your back arches in a possessed like manner as Jay continues to use his cock to send you over the edge. Sex has never felt this good before. He has never made you feel this good before. Your body is shaking- no, vibrating as you feel that white heat getting closer and closer. Your breath hitches in your throat before you let out the most pornarific moan you've ever heard in your life. Upon hearing you, Jay stutters inside you, his orgasm hitting him harder than he expected. You're still coming down from your own high, the dark spots in the corners of your vision are finally disappearing.

"Holy fuck," Jay pants as he slowly removes himself from you. “You’ve never made that sound before.” He’s sitting back on his heels once more, staring at you with a look of wonder. There’s a spark in his eyes, one that you recognize, and you stifle a laugh knowing what’s about to come next.

“Inspired?” You smile.

“Immensely,” he delights. His fingers start to tap rhythmically against his thighs as he looks over to his music equipment in the corner of the room. In the most innocent and inoffensive way, he’s long forgotten you as his creative mind kicks into overdrive.

“Go.” You yawn. “I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

Jay leans down and gives you a quick kiss on your temple, leaving the bed to quickly pull on his sweatpants and seating himself in his chair, firing up his computer and putting on his headphones.

Your eyes droop slower and slower, getting heavier each time you blink. The last thing you see before sleep takes you is your boyfriend leaning forward in his chair, back muscles rippling as he lights a cigarette, the smoke swirling up towards the ceiling as he exhales, dancing through the fringe of his bangs as it ascends.

“Ugh!”

Your eyes shoot open, sleep being yanked away from you by a loud bang and the yell from Jay. Sitting up, you see your boyfriend’s fists clenched tightly, resting on either side of his keyboard. His face is red, the vein on his temple starting to bulge and his shoulders are hunched so far that his shoulders are almost touching his ears.

“Jay? What’s wrong?” You rub your fists into your eyes, trying to keep the grumpiness of being abruptly woken up at bay.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He slides his headphones off his ears so that they’re sitting at the base of his neck. The ends of his hair is coated with sweat, the tips of his ears red from the headphones being on for too long. Pivoting his chair towards you, you can see the stress lines on his forehead and the strain in his eyes. There’s a nearly finished cigarette tucked between his fingers at the knuckles and a few finished ones lying in the ashtray by his keyboard. He huffs on the one in his hand quickly before putting it out in said ashtray and then climbs onto the bed to sit across from you, his knees touching yours.

"I've been working on this track for the past three hours now. I just can't get the pitch right." He shakes his head in defeat, a long sigh leaving his lips as he does so.

"This happens all the time, but it’s okay. You always get it in the end." You try to sound encouraging but instead your voice comes off dull and uninterested.

Jay's mouth pulls to the right side of his face, making the lines by his cheeks and dimple deepen. "This one is different. I'm already starting to forget how you sounded."

Baffled, you tilt your head to the side and nervously laugh. "Me? I thought I dreamt that!"

"Yes you! I've never heard anything more...more...more," he snaps his fingers as he tries to think of the right word, "more exhilarating! It was dramatic. It was sexy, inspiring even. It was a sound that could tell anyone what you're feeling. It's pure bliss." His fingers absentmindedly make their way to the divot on the inside of your knee, rubbing slow deep circles into your skin. On a regular day, the touch would barely be noticed. Right now, on the other hand, his touch ignites a fire in your blood, raising your body temperature to a whole new degree. It's suddenly hard to swallow and you're very, very aware that you are watching as his lips form words as he speaks, barely comprehending said words at all. The way his jaw moves and the way his mouth molds around each syllable and seeing flashes of his tongue gently touch the rooftop of his mouth.

"Y/N? You fall asleep with your eyes open again?"

You're brought back down to earth, blinking rapidly as you feel your boyfriend softly shake your shoulder.

"Sorry," you rub your eyes and suppress the urge to yawn, "I guess I'm still tired."

"Let me tuck you in." He goes to lay you back down and you gladly let him.

"Here," you mumble, lips barely moving and eyes already shut. You let the weight of your arm bounce against his side of the bed . "You should sleep too. Take a break. Work later."

He doesn't respond but his weight is still on the end of the bed. You can feel the dip and you just want him to lie down already.

"Jaaayyy," you whine, eyes still closed.

"I think," his pitch has changed, a low murmur making your eyes pop open wide immediately. You know that tone. You know it all too well and your body starts to overheat again, "I want to do something else."

Slowly lifting your head, you intend to look into his eyes, but you're very quickly misguided as you watch your boyfriend slowly pumping at his cock, quickly making himself go from semi hard to fully hard in mere seconds. His blue boxers rest below his hip bones, giving yourself a full display on the thing that is going to wreck you into the next dimension momentarily.

"O-oh." You sit there frozen, unsure of what to do next.

"I know I just fucked you but honestly? I can do better." There's a devilish smirk painted onto that beautiful face of his and you've never been more excited to be a sinner.

You match his smirk and use your feet to kick the covers off the bed and before you're done with the action, he's on top of you. Lips that usually feather lightly across your body now hungrily nip and lick over your rib cage, around your hip bones below your stomach line, and over the swell of your collar bones. Each nip and pull makes you shiver beneath him, your hands tracing over the muscles on his back. Your legs come up and hug his hips, now trapping him in place. One of Jay's hands grabs a fistful of your yellow night shorts, tugging them to the side but not necessarily taking them off. His thumb digs into your hip bone while he kisses around your breasts. The closeness of his fingers to your core is driving your body absolutely mad. You're already so turned on and ready to be touched and you know that he knows that that's what you want.

And yet…

His tongue delicately swirls your nipple and you hold your breath for a moment. The coolness of the air mixed in with his saliva makes you feel chills throughout your entire body. He flattens his tongue directly on the tip of your nipple as he squeezes the other breast with his hand and you quickly move your hands from his back and into his soft black hair. You grip tightly at his roots, already feeling your back start to arch as he continues to lick and lap at the hardening buds on your chest.

"Hmm...already?" He chuckles as he takes your nipple between his teeth.

"Hnng," You groan out and grip his hair tighter. Your breathing shallows and your body can't decide what it wants. You want him to rub your clit oh so badly but you don't want him to stop massaging your breasts. The way his tongue swirls around your nipple is almost too good. No one should be this talented with their mouth.

He moves to the side of your breasts and leaves love bites in an array of patterns on your skin.

"Why'd you stop?" You gasp and grip his shoulders. The love bites feel great, they definitely don't help the surge of arousal going straight down into your shorts, but you know you were close to coming and you've never come from nipple stimulation alone.

"You weren't moaning how I wanted you to. Ah- which...actually reminds me..." And just like that, his body is off of yours, taking the heat with him. Getting off the bed, Jay opens one of his desk drawers and removes a small microphone with a clip. You watch as he gathers the necessary chords, no ordinary recording device would do. He quickly attaches one end of the chords into his computer and fishes the rest of the line out as he walks back towards the bed. Still holding the hand sized device, he places his knees on either side of your hips, giving you a full view of his beautifully erected cock. You mentally note that he has definitely shaved recently, his skin looking so soft and kissable. The thought of kissing and sucking at the areas around the base of his cock makes your mouth water. While he busies himself with trying to find a way for the microphone to rest on top of the headboard without falling, you help yourself to a little taste of him.

The tip of his cock is salty with precum and you lick your lips quickly to lubricate them. Jay's hips instinctively flinch backwards, but once he looks down and sees what you're doing, all he does is smirk and continue to work on setting up the microphone.

You slowly insert the head of his cock onto the top of your tongue just inside your mouth. Exhaling, you let your warm breath fall across his shaft and small goosebumps appear at his midsection. Taking a long stripe from the base of his cock and back to the head, you avoid any chastising about teasing by promptly inserting him fully into your mouth, slowly and inch by inch allowing him to sink further and further back into your throat. You go until the tip of your nose and your lips touch his midsection, his length now fully submerged in your throat.

"Jesus you're not playing around tonight aren't you?"

You hum a response that makes his hips sputter, a stuttering groan leaving his lips quickly followed by a whispered ‘fuck’.

Slowly moving your head back, you go until the tip is almost past your lips before moving back down his shaft. You keep up the slow pace, mostly to annoy him and also to insure that he doesn't come anytime soon.

His hands, without warning, are weaving through your hair as you swirl your tongue around his tip. He guides you, quickening your pace and he continues to hit the back of your throat over. And over. And over-

Jay pulls himself back and his cock is out of your mouth.

"You're a sneaky little devil. You almost had me." He wags his finger at your face, making small tsk tsk noises with his mouth as he recenters himself and pulls his boxers up, hiding his beautiful cock from view. "Now, where was I?" He leans back towards the microphone and turns it on, a bright red light blinking up on the side. Adjusting the angle one last time, he's finally happy with his setup.

"Do you know what this is for?" He points to it and gets off the bed. Humoring him, you shake your head no.

"I need you to make that sound you made earlier. Do you understand? I don't want it. I need it."

Worriedly, you realize he's heading towards the closet and fear and excitement root into your chest as you watch him bend down to the last drawer of the dresser and take out a shoe box.

Sauntering back to the bed, he carelessly throws the shoe box onto the bed and some of its contents fall out. A bright blue vibrator as long as your forearm is the first you see followed up by light gray fuzzy handcuffs. There's more in the box, at least half a dozen other toys that Jay only likes to break out when he feels like you need to be punished, or if he needs a specific reaction from your body.

Right now, you're thinking it might be both options.

Jay picks up the handcuffs and looks them over in his hands. He's acting as if he's never used them on you before and that in itself is thrilling because now, you don't know what's going to happen next.

Pulling out three more pairs from the box, he wordlessly cuffs your wrists and ankles to the bedposts while you willingly, and wordlessly, allow him.

Still without words, he moves back to the bed. That's when you notice how steady his breathing is. And although appearing to be calm under a heated situation, his cock continues to throb and twitch, the head surely getting redder and angrier by the second underneath his boxers.

His hands are moving down your body, feeling every curve, reading every detail in your skin as if he were reading braille. Fingers dip inside your waistband, hooking around the material before sliding them down your legs, annoyedly realizing that he should have removed them before cuffing you to the bed. Without blinking, he grasps the material between his hands and tears the fabric as if it were nothing more than a single sheet of paper. The anticipation of his touch is driving you crazy and you're never going to get over the fact that your boyfriend has now literally torn your clothes off your body in order to get you naked.

"Please, babe," you pull at your restraints, the fuzzy padding protecting your wrists from any real harm and you try your best to spread your legs out further for him, "touch me."

Unresponsive, Jay eyes your core, looking at it in a way a man starved looks at a loaf of bread. His hands are on your thighs now, deeply kneading your muscles with his fingertips. His thumbs graze over bruises from previous escapades and it feels borderline euphoric.

"Touch me." You repeat and watch angrily as he remains unresponsive. His hands dip lower, over your knees and down to your shins. Desperation bubbles up from within the pits of your belly and rises until you feel it fester in your throat until you can't keep it down any longer.

"Touch me!" You yell and not so gently nudge his side with your leg. Finally, he looks up at your face and chuckles under his breath.

"So needy," he says with disappointment, but a smile paints softly across his face. "So ungrateful and so spoiled."

Jay's hands move quickly, fingers suddenly grip tightly at your hips as he raises up your lower half until it's level with his face. You bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from yelping as his fingernails scratch into your skin before moving to support your weight by cupping your ass. You can feel his hot breath hovering over your clit, making you feel just how truly wet you are. Jay gulps down hard, looking as if being presented with a grand holiday meal.

"You're glistening, baby," he groans, proceeding to attach his lips onto your clit. The moment his tongue makes contact with your slickness, you inhale quickly. Finally, finally some contact.

He swirls his tongue slowly around your clit, no longer making direct contact. Gathering as much juices as he can, he spits it back out onto your clit. Warm mixes with cold and you sit up quickly only to be pushed back down by your boyfriend's strong hands. He keeps his hand on your chest right below your collarbone as he uses his other hand to wipe your juices and his spit around your clit.

It's so wet you almost miss the feeling of his bare hands.

"So, so messy." He tsks at you and continues his movements. "What am I going to do with you, Y/n? Hmm?"

You stay silent at the sound of your name instead of his usual pet names for you. His piercing brown eyes stare deep within yours as he continues to stroke you.

"Do I let you come from my fingers? From my tongue? From my cock? What will make you make that pretty...pretty sound again?"

You whimper as he inserts a single finger into your hole, your vagina naturally clenching around the digit. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enough.

Jay chuckles and you know he's finding humor in the way he has you wrapped around his finger...well...quite literally. He knows how weak you are when it comes to him, knows you'll do anything for him and knows exactly what to do to make you feel good.

"Are you going to be a good girl and make that pretty sound again? Hm? For me?" He inserts another finger and slowly curls them inside you, beckoning you towards him and touching that spongey bundle of nerves that sends you straight into the heavens.

"I'll try!" You cry out, wishing that he would apply more pressure inside of you so that you can finally release the orgasm that has been building up bigger and bigger. You’re honestly not sure if you can make the same moaning sound that he’s referring to because, quite honestly, you have no idea what you sounded like in the first place.

Jay pushes down your hips that you weren't aware you had raised upward. He keeps his free hand there while he quickens his pace with the other. The beautiful and sinful acts that his fingers can do to your body are coming into effect as you start to shake beneath him. Your breathing is more ragged than ever and you pull as hard as you can at your restraints without caring if it'll hurt you later. The coil deep within your body starts getting tighter and tighter, readying itself to break and unfurl.

You open your mouth to let out a deep, long moan but right as the sound erupts out of your mouth and into existence, Jay pulls his fingers out of you and sits back, completely untouching you.

Your orgasm disappears in a snap and you groan out angrily.

“Okay what the fuck,” you sound angrier than you intended.

“Can’t let you come like that. It’s too easy.” He looks at the bed and pushes past some of the toys until he finds one that breaks out that devilishly handsome smile that you love oh so much.

In his hand he’s holding a simple, small, white vibrator.

Now, vibrators aren’t your favorite and he’s well aware of this. You come too quickly and aren’t able to savor that sweet build up feeling of fire within your lower half, that numbness that overtakes the tips of your toes and makes you want to kick them straight into a wall. The fact that he picked this out of the box of other torturing devices means that he plans on making you come. A lot. And in a short period of time.

Upon realizing his intention you think about pleading with him to use something else, anything else. The tiredness behind your eyes creeps up slower than the night, but it does not slow its pace. You want to come. You want to make him come. And then you want to sleep wrapped up tightly in your boyfriend’s arms.

Jay turns the vibrator on and watches as it purrs to life in his hands. He strokes the length of it as if it were the back of a cat. Now, looking at you, he grins, showing his pearly white teeth and another wave of arousal washes over you. Power exuberates from every inch of his body as he saunters back over to you. A bead of sweat forms at your temple and slowly slides down past your cheekbone. It tickles and makes you shiver, but you don't take your eyes off Jay.

"Are you ready?" he says softly upon reaching the edge of the bed. Standing in between your legs, he waits for your response.

You sigh, "yes," and let the muscles in your legs relax.

Jay places the tip of the vibrator on your left thigh and you moan immediately at the touch, feeling the sensation creep up to your core. The vibrator stays in place for a few moments while Jay watches your expressions intently. His eyebrows are furrowed so deeply that they almost touch and his mouth is scrunched together and pushed to the side. This has become more than sexual pleasure.

This is a science experiment.

"How does it feel when I do this?" he queries and moves the vibrator slowly up your thigh and stops just before it touches your core.

"It feels...torturous." Your hips start to shake purely from lack of physical contact where you need it the most. You try to hold in your pouts, try to hold in your pleading, but if your clit goes any longer without getting relief you're going to lose your mind.

"Good." And then right as you're about to beg for him to touch you, the vibrator is thrust right on your clit with a strong unmoving pressure.

Your hips roll forward and you don't have time to think before you cry out and feel your orgasm come and go quicker than you can blink. The vibrations run deeply through your body and after waiting so long, you just couldn't hold on.

"Whoa. Record time." Jay smarts but keeps the vibrator on you.

As you come down it starts to feel uncomfortable. Overstimulation is not something you're able to have the patience or willpower for.

“You can keep going,” Jay encourages and increases the speed on the vibrator. You whimper and look at him anxiously as your whole body begins to tremble.

“Moan for me, baby. Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me.”

They’re not moans quite yet. It starts off as small gasps as your body desperately tries to adjust to the overstimulation, angry when it realizes it can’t. That’s when the tears prick your eyes. You try to be tough and hold on but you feel another orgasm being forced from your body and you cry out in pleasured agony.

Jay removes the vibrator mid orgasm and your muscles immediately collapse into the bed. Panting harder than a dog on a hot summer day, you truly hope that that was the sound he’s looking for.

“Hmmm...not quite…”

“Please, Jay. Let me help you come. Forget about the sound. Let's get you off so we can go back to sleep.” Your throat feels hoarse as you talk from lack of water or the intense screams and moans, you’re not sure. Perhaps a mixture of all of it. Either way, you’re tired and you wish you could help him, but this project seems like a lost cause.

“Rest for a second. I need to listen to something.” He moves quickly to his computer, putting his headphones on crooked and clicking away at the screen. Your body is too tired to watch what he’s doing.

A few moments pass before Jay stands up again and you notice a freshly lit cigarette in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’ll untie you-” Jay pauses mid step and mid sentence and stares at the cigarette in his hand, quickly looking to your naked body, and then back at the cigarette.

"What's wrong?" You strain your head to try to meet his gaze but he's off in another world. His lips move as he mumbles lowly to himself, words incomprehensible to you from this far away. Taking a long drag from the cigarette, he holds in the smoke as he observes the cancer stick before walking closer to you. He’s sworn to quit so many times, but claims the nicotine helps him stay focused when he works on long projects. It’s not a favorable habit, but you just cannot deny how sexy he looks while taking a long drag from a cigarette and letting the smoke swirl out of his pretty lips. It fits his artistic rockstar image a little too well.

Finally you're able to catch: "that wouldn't be messed up...would it?"

"What wouldn't be messed up?" Annoyance is a nice way to put how you're feeling right now. You're just laying here, tied up and your boyfriend is only five feet away from you, completely ignoring your existence. Unfortunately he does this often; spacing out, talking to himself, unable to sense his surroundings. When it's music related it's admirable. When you're involved? Straight up annoying. But it’s even worse when the two are combined.

"I have...a crazy idea. Please let me know if it's too out there and we'll discard it immediately."

You gulp down what feels to be a big rock in your throat that doesn't want to be swallowed. His tone is cautious yet excited and he doesn't look you directly in the eyes but off to the side of your head.

"What is it?" You say slowly, wishing more than ever that you could sit up and talk to him face to face.

Jay brings his cigarette up in front of his face, his eyes concentrating hard on the object in front of him.

"I want to use the cigarette ash as a stimulant on you."

Immediately the first thing that comes to mind is 'what the actual fuck'. You've never heard of anyone using any part of cigarettes as a form of sexual pleasure. But then you let your mind breathe for a second and the idea sounds rather...arousing? Just the thought of Jay flicking his cigarette ash onto your body sounds so degrading and he usually doesn't dip in that direction sexually.

He's carefully watching your face now, looking for any sign that you're not on board with this.

You smile.

"Where on my body?" You say seductively. His eyes light up, that same sexual deviant smile back onto his face. Excitement is evident as his chest rises and falls at a quicker pace. And finally, finally, he walks towards you, that cigarette held loosely between his fingers.

His shadow casts over your midsection as he towers above you. One arm crosses his chest while his other arm, the one with the cigarette, rests on top. It looks like he's about to take another drag but stops himself just before it touches his lips.

"I was thinking...your nipples?"

Your mouth immediately starts to water and your legs involuntarily shift, wanting ever so badly to rub together. Suddenly you're hyper aware of how hard your nipples are. They're like little gumdrops resting on top of your breasts and when you close your eyes you can still feel the wetness of Jay's tongue as he swirled his tongue around them.

Most people use candle wax or ice cubes as nipple stimulants.

But then again, you and Jay aren't most people.

"Please. Do it." Eagerly, you roll your hips forward and jut your chest forward towards him. A deep hunger is rooted in his eyes as he takes a quick huff, blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling before climbing onto the bed. Your heart is beating fast and hard in your chest as you wait for him to make his next move.

Jay’s cock twitches back to life, a newfound surge of want coursing through his veins while your body reacts the same. He quickly checks to make sure his microphone is still on and then puts the cigarette between his lips. He gives himself a quick pump as he moves closer to your body.

Forget the cigarette ash, you think to yourself. You want him.

And he apparently wants you too.

Jay’s hands move expeditiously down the sides of your body, running over your hips and down your thighs as he positions himself between your legs. He uses the head of his cock to rub against your swollen clit, your hips bucking with the sudden contact. Unlike previously, Jay is in no mood to take his time. After rubbing up and down your folds a few times, he uses your slick as lubrication and promptly inserts himself into your hole. He grunts deeply as he bottoms out and you’re left gasping as your body adjusts to his size. Jay rests his chin on top of your head as he breathes heavily around the cigarette hanging crooked in his mouth, away from your hair. The smoke wafts around you and slightly burns your nostrils but you love it.

He’s addicted to cigarettes.

You’re addicted to him.

After giving himself a moment, Jay finally starts to move, rocking his hips slowly back and forth to generate some momentum. A deep moan gurgles from the back of his throat and you can see in his eyes how difficult it is for him to hold himself back.

The air in the room gets stuffy with the heat of your bodies mixed in with the smoke. It makes you both pant harder, faster.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Jay growls and sits back, his cock unfortunately slipping out of you. He takes your legs and sets your feet against his shoulders and realigns himself with your entrance. Without giving you both time to adjust, he slams deep within you, your body jolting in response as he hits your sensitive spot.

“Fuck!” He yells and quickens his pace, his cock relentlessly filling every inch of space within you. Small whimpers move past your lips and a fire lights behind Jay’s eyes.

“What was that? I can’t hear you?” As his hips continue to rock into you, he grabs the microphone off the top of the headboard and shoves it in your face. With his other hand he takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side before leaning down, hovering the cigarette a few inches above one of your nipples.

You look up at him hopefully and you’re open to tell him it’s okay when he taps his pointer finger on top of the cigarette, gray ash tumbling down towards your body.

“Ah!” You exclaim as the ash hits the peak of your breast. The initial impact of the ash to your skin makes your body panic, completely unused to the sensation. But then, it feels erotic. The nerves in your nipples sing with pleasure and your back arches as the warmth sinks deeply into you. You watch as your breasts bounce with each thrust Jay gives you and the ash rolls down onto your chest.

He continues thrusting and taking drags from his cigarette despite looking winded and exhausted. The headboard bangs against the wall, mirroring the thunder still booming in the distance. Soft groans and moans fill the room until Jay pushes your legs closer to your face, going deeper inside of you.

“Dear god your pussy is just too good. You’re still so wet after everything else. Always wet for my cock aren’t you?” His thrusts are getting longer, sloppier.

“Always. I love your cock,” you exhaustedly whisper. You can feel that coil deep inside you wanting to unspring so badly and only Jay can get you there.

He takes a final drag from his cigarette and flicks the biggest chunk of ash towards your nipple. You moan out as it makes contact at the same time the tip of his cock kisses deeply against your cervix, a high pitched moan that makes your eyes roll backwards.

And then he presses his thumb on top of your nipple, smearing the ash on top of you and right as he does it he thrusts so hard and deeply into you and holds himself there.

“F-uh-uck!” You sputter out the mother of all moans as your orgasm rips through you making you see a bright flash of white.

“Oh shit!” Jay grunts and thick ropes of cum spill inside you.

You both take a moment to regain your breaths. Then Jay removes your legs from his shoulders, setting you down gently and fully removing himself from you. He moves to his desk and puts his cigarette butt into the ashtray and his microphone next to the keyboard. He takes a moment and places his fists behind his back right at his hip bones and leans back until a satisfying crack sounds out through the room.

Jay looks back at you with complete adoration in his eyes, a natural smile forming on his lips as he puckers them to give you an air kiss. Promptly untying you from your restraints, he rubs small circles into your wrists after he frees you, the pressure soothing your aching joints.

“I love you,” he mutters tenderly and places a kiss on top of your forehead.

“I love you too.” You smile.

He gets up and heads to the bathroom while you remain on the bed. You hear the bath turn on and run rapidly and the sound makes you feel the sleep wanting to pull you back in. You can't feel your thighs or any part of your lower half for that matter, but yet your muscles still tremble from the overwhelming aftermath of your multiple orgasms. Gazing upward, the white ceiling looks so dull above you and yet, somehow, comforting. Your mind instinctively tries to find pictures within the grooves but it proves to be too much work for your brain right now. So you go back to just staring absentmindedly. Jay is saying something from the bathroom but your brain is too tired to focus on what it was he was saying exactly. Body still trembling, you close your eyes and will for sleep to take you.

But then hands are on your body, lifting your head off the pillow. And then you're being carried, your body feeling weightless. You groan out for your bed, wanting nothing more than to be completely buried in blankets as sleep overcomes you.

The bathroom light has been dimmed and some of your favorite scented candles are lit on the counter. An aroma of lemon and rose petals waft throughout the room. You breathe in deeply through your nose and sigh out of your mouth, your body melting in your boyfriend's arms.

Jay gently places your feet on the mat in front of the freestanding soaking bathtub. There's mountains of bubbles already rising on top of the water and you can't wait to sink down into it.

Jay uses his hand to grip your elbow, guiding you as you put one foot in the water and then the other.

You sit up front where the faucet is dumping soothing warm water. You put your hands together and let the stream pool into your palms and run over your skin. This is total bliss and your aching muscles begin to relax happily.

Water splashes behind you and you turn around to see Jay getting into the bath as well. You smile at him before turning back around and picking up a handful of bubbles.

"What shampoo do you want? The good smelly one or the deep clean one?" Jay holds both bottles in either hand, looking back and forth between the two.

You look back at him and tiredly try to decide. The “good smelly one” is peach while the deep cleaning one is a tea tree extract.

"Would it be weird if I combined both? It honestly might be really good." He awaits your input.

"Both are fine." You nod your head and turn back to the front. You turn off the water and lay your arms over both edges of the tub.

Gentle hands run down your hair from the top of your head down to the tips before returning to your scalp. His fingers massage the shampoos into your head and a low wistful grumble escapes your throat. You feel the shampoo lathering in your hair and the way Jay's fingers move with purpose has you closing your eyes in pure bliss. He uses the pads of his fingers to massage deeply into your skull, nearly lulling you to sleep.

His hands leave your hair and you hear the clicking of another cap opening and then it clicks shut a moment after. His hands are back on your body but this time they're on your shoulders. A strong lavender smell enters your nostrils and it dawns on you that he's massaging your soothing body wash into your skin.

It's silent in the bathroom except for the small droplets of water tinkling from the faucet into the tub. It's not an eerie silence, it's almost tranquil.

You spend a bit more time in the bathtub together. Jay completely taking care of you to wash off every trace of cigarette ash that was left on your body. His hands soothingly rub alongst every inch of your body.

“I’m ready to get out,” you sigh. You’re leaning against Jay’s chest, his bare skin comforting against your own, “before I completely fall asleep in here.”

“Okay. Let me get out first and grab your towel.” He attentively lifts your body forward to give himself some room to emerge from the bath. Water runs off his body and onto the tile floor as he crosses the room for his towel first. You pull the drain plug in the bath and watch as a tiny whirlpool appears.

After aggressively rubbing the towel in his hair, Jay wraps it around his waist to cover himself, his hair looking static as it sticks out in every which way. He grabs you a fresh towel from the cupboard, the fluffy white one you usually save for special self care relaxation days.

Padding his way back over to you, he drapes the white towel in both of his arms and holds it out, waiting to envelope you in it once you step out.

You stand up slowly, clutching the edges of the tub as you push yourself up. Your legs are still quite shaky. For the most part they still feel pretty numb. You lift one leg up carefully and find your footing on the tile before gingerly taking out your other leg. Jay wraps you tightly in the soft towel that could honestly be a blanket if one chose to do so. You sigh into it, your muscles relaxing as Jay dries you off.

“Let’s get you to bed. We can watch a movie.” After he says it, Jay pauses to look at you. Afraid that something is on your face, your hand touches your cheek questionably. He reaches up and moves his hand under yours so that he’s cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing softly against your cheekbone.

“I love you,” he says softly before leaning in and kissing your lips. As soon as your lips touch it feels like you’re melting into him all over again. And all too soon, the kiss is over.

Swiftly, he picks you up bridal style and carries you to bed as you giggle and cling to his neck. He lightly places you back onto the bed and pulls back the covers and quickly throws them over your body once you’re comfortable. Jay adjusts your pillow to make sure your head stays straight and makes sure every one of your toes is snuggled and warm before handing you the TV remote and then walking towards the door.

“What snack do you want?” He calls from the door frame, his hand lightly brushing against the soft pastel yellow paint.

“Surprise me!” You call as you flip through the different genre suggestions, your brain not even registering what the titles are.

After giving up and picking a random movie, Jay walks in with some water bottles and a bag of pretzels and climbs into bed next to you.

“Don’t you want to get back to your music?” You inquire as you grab a handful of pretzels. He gets himself comfortable next to you by adjusting his pillow, grabbing a fistful of pretzels himself once he’s done.

“Nah. That can wait. I just want to be here with you.” He smiles before popping a piece of the tasty snack into his mouth.

Your heart swells knowing how much he wants to be back in that chair working his magic. Normally you couldn’t drag him away from that stupid computer. So you don’t push it and snuggle in deeper next to him, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

Together you munch away, forgetting about sleep entirely, and listening as the thunder grumbles in the distance.

a/n: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed :] if you did please reblog and leave a comment!

♡ masterlist

#jay smut #enhypen jay #enhypen jay smut #jay x reader #jay x you #jay x y/n #jay hard hours #jay hard thoughts #park jongseong #jongseong smut #jay #jay oneshot #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #jay fic #enhypen fic #boyfriend jay

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mysticmoosenger · 7 months ago

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thinking ab a loser!choso who is oblivious to your class crush on him! (part 1)

cw: y/n is down bad, pining, maybe mutual pining, slightly suggestively spicy, sfw, part two will def be nsfw

normally, you’d have no issue skipping the dumb 9am math class that you had to take to graduate. but… that’s normally. having a class crush that you are so down bad over is not really normal for you though. you swear that he unlocked a new type for you, and that you could never go back to everything you have always said you liked in a guy previously. this guy was just… different.

somehow, you developed what honestly feels more like obsession than a crush on the emo boy who sits in the back corner of the lecture hall.

it had all started when you were running 20 minutes late… on the first day of class. naturally, by the time you got there almost all of the seats were full. you weaved your way back through the rows to one of the only spots available, right next to him.

from the few seconds you made eye contact with him you could have swore you had already soaked through your panties. his dark, smudged eyeliner lined eyes lingered on yours for a bit before he ripped them away from you to play with the several rings he had on his fingers. oh… the the things he could do with those hands.

you drank in his appearance, he had messy black hair tied up in two high buns and several piercings lining his ears. his face was adorned with an eyebrow piercing, a septum piercing, and a lip ring. a thin black line stretched across the bridge of his nose, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was actually a real face tattoo judging by how heavily tatted the rest of his visible body was from the areas not covered by his baggy jeans and loose band tee. as he was moving his bag closer to his chair to give you a bit more room next to him in the cramped seats, his arms flexed revealing massive biceps and a few prominent veins marking his hands. wow… wonder if the rest of him is that ripped too?

despite slowly trying to get closer with him, he remained oblivious. or you thought so, at least. eventually, after several weeks of trying to make moves, you finally got somewhere. by sheer luck, and probably fate too if we are being honest, the professor had selected him to be your partner for the big end of semester project. he typed his name and contact info into your phone, also giving you his snap. while you don’t use snap much anymore, you certainly would be now. as he was handing you your phone back, his fingers brushed against yours and sent what felt like lightning bolts across your body. while you didn’t see it, his ears blushed and he had to turn away to “look for a pencil” in his backpack. this poor, oblivious boy.

the second you got home, you sent him the first snap…

(part two coming soon)

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blasphemyandbackshots · 10 days ago

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—quirk play

Katsuki Bakugo—Bakugo’s quirk isn’t just for combat, it’s for control. He uses tiny, precise explosions at your hips and thighs to keep you still, the heat just enough to sting without leaving a mark. You feel his dominance, literally. He palms your lower back and lets off a subtle blast to push you into the mattress when you’re squirming too much. “You wanna move? Then take it.” The room smells like smoke and sweat when he’s rough. his palms are glowing, crackling around your throat or your waist as he takes you hard, fast, brutal. During slow sex? He trails fiery kisses down your stomach and snaps little sparks against your skin, loving how you jolt under him with every pop of heat.

Izuku Midoriya—Izuku is usually so careful, but in bed that control teeters. When he lets some power slip, the whole bed shakes with it. He slams into you with enhanced strength, the headboard cracking behind you. He whispers stats under his breath while touching you, calculating pressure, angles, and sensitivity points to ruin you efficiently. Occasionally, he loses focus and the green lightning arcs across your bodies. It buzzes against your skin, makes you twitch, makes you moan. After he makes you come, he sometimes kisses your inner thighs and mumbles how he wants to “test 5%… maybe 8%…” just to see how much more you can take.

Shoto Todoroki—Shoto fucks like balance and contradiction. He uses ice to cool your overheated skin, trailing fingers down your chest that leave goosebumps and frost. Then his burning hot lips follow and it’s whiplash. His right hand on your throat is cold enough to make you gasp. His left hand between your thighs is so hot it burns. He watches you melt in the middle. He teases you with both elements, freezing the sheets to trap your wrists above your head, then dragging his fire-warmed tongue over your pulse point. During slow, romantic moments, he wraps you in warm fire from his left side, while his right side keeps you cool and calm, like being held by two men at once.

Eijirou Kirishima—He’s not just hard, he’s unbreakable. When he’s inside you, he’ll harden just enough to stretch you until you’re crying, holding your hips still while he whispers, “Come on, baby. You can take it. You’re doing so good.” He loves being rough because he knows he won’t hurt you no matter how hard he fucks you. He hardens every part of himself and lets go completely. During foreplay, he lets you straddle his thigh and hardens it, daring you to ride it until you’re soaking through the fabric. “You wanted friction, right?” When you’re feeling bratty, he’ll smirk, harden his chest and arms, and make you work to touch him, grabbing your wrists like a challenge. “You wanna be good now or keep testing me?”

Denki Kaminari—Denki turns sex into a live wire. He sends the tiniest shocks through your body during foreplay, down your spine, your thighs, your core, just enough to make you clench and gasp. He teases you by flicking his fingers against your skin with little zaps until you’re twitchy and needy. “C’mon, baby. I haven’t even really started.” When he’s in deep, he holds your hips and sends a low, buzzing current between you both, making your whole body vibrate and shake. His favorite thing? Letting you ride him with his hands gripping your ass, and then sending an electric pulse right as you come. He moans like he felt it too.

Hitoshi Shinsou—A dangerous man with a dangerous mouth. All he needs is one word, “Obey.” And your whole body gives out, mind foggy, pupils dilated. You’re at his mercy, pliant and needy. He talks you into submission with that low, sleepy voice. “Touch yourself. Just like that. Don’t stop until I say.” And you can’t stop. You don’t want to. He uses brainwashing for roleplay, pretending you’re some sweet little thing caught under his spell while he makes you beg for release. “Poor thing. Can’t even think, huh?” Afterwards, he always holds you close, whispers you back to clarity. He loves the intimacy of it. Loves how you trust him to take full control… and give it back. And he’d never do it without consent.

Fumikage Tokoyami—Tokoyami might act reserved, but in the dark? He lets go. In low light, Dark Shadow gets bolder. He’s slithering across your skin like a sentient hand, teasing you while Tokoyami watches, breathing heavier with every moan. He lets Dark Shadow pin your wrists above your head, whispering in that quiet, deep voice, “Be still. Let the darkness taste you.” Sometimes it’s like he’s sharing his pleasure. When he’s close, Dark Shadow gets frantic, wrapping around both of you, enveloping you like smoke. You’ve woken up more than once to his hands on your hips and shadows creeping up your thighs, his lips brushing your ear, “Let me worship you in the dark.”

Shouta Aizawa—He doesn’t even have to use his quirk to make you behave, but when he does? You’re ruined. When you’re being bratty, he activates Erasure and suddenly, your quirk vanishes. Your body becomes helpless, and his voice gets low. “What can you do now, huh?” He’ll tie you up in his capture weapon, wrap it around your throat or thighs, then stare at you with glowing eyes as you writhe under him. “You wanted attention. Now take it.” He uses his quirk mid-thrust, watching your power flicker out just as you were about to use it for leverage. “No cheating. You come when I say.” Post-sex? He’s quiet and gentle. But his eyes don’t stop glowing, and he’s already thinking about what he’ll take from you next time.

Present Mic—He’s loud, enthusiastic, and absolutely filthy. He moans with no volume control, screaming your name like he’s on stage, chanting dirty praise that echoes through the walls. “OH YEAH, BABY—JUST LIKE THAT!” During phone sex, he uses his quirk to amp up his voice in your ears until your whole body trembles from the sound alone. “You touching yourself, sweetheart? Tell me how wet you are.” He’ll say your name using his full quirk mid-orgasm, screaming it into your soul like you’re the headline act. Aftercare is all teasing and smirks. He kisses down your spine and purrs into your ear, “Hope the neighbors liked the concert, sugar.”

Dabi—He wants it to hurt, just a little. Dabi drags searing fingertips down your skin, grinning when you twitch from the sting. “I��m being gentle, babe. You’d know if I wasn’t.” He uses his flames to burn off your clothes slowly, watching the fabric disintegrate, leaving you trembling under his gaze. His favorite thing? Warming his fingers or tongue until they’re almost too hot, then shoving them inside you. “Let’s see how much you can take.” During rough sex, his hands grip your throat, the heat a constant threat. Never enough to burn, but just enough to make your body obey. “You wanted a villain, right? Then beg.”

Tomura Shigaraki—Tomura’s touch could destroy you and that’s what makes it so intense. He keeps four fingers on you during sex. Always. The threat of the fifth lingers—on your thigh, your jaw, your throat. “One more finger and you’re dust. Be good.” It turns him on to see you trust him. To give him your body like you don’t care what he could do. That devotion makes him feral. Sometimes he’ll use a gloved hand to finger you, then slide his bare fingers over your stomach, whispering: “Feel how close you are to death? You like that?” He’s obsessed with marking you, biting hard enough to bruise because he can’t leave fingerprints. And afterward, he holds you like you’re the last soft thing in a world full of rot.

Overhaul—Kai doesn’t just want control, he wants perfection. He touches you with surgical precision. Can feel everything in your body and knows exactly how to ruin it. “You’re shaking already? I haven’t even broken you down yet.” He deconstructs parts of your body at your peak—your legs, your hips—and rebuilds them perfectly around him. It makes you feel too sensitive, too full. And he loves it. If he’s feeling merciful, he’ll ‘cleanse’ your soreness after round one… just to make you able to go again. And again. And again. His voice is soft, but terrifying: “Don’t worry. I’ll put you back together better than before.”

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cod-indulgences · 1 month ago

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Poly!TF141 x female!reader, omegaverse, gangbang, heat, knotting

You're damn lucky to have your pack of alphas. It's a lot of work, managing them, but they've worked as a team for so long that the usual alpha vs alpha aggression has long since been taken care of.

Which means that when your heat hits, your pack simply toss a coin for the order they get to take you in.

And you need all four of them.

Gaz drags his lips up your throat, lingering over the snarl of scar tissue decorating the side, where four sets of alpha fangs left mating marks all tangled together. His big hands are warm as they pluck at your nipples, tugging the soft flesh until you whine and arch your back, wanting more- more pressure, more of his weight over your body, more of his strength filling you up.

His cock is lovely, long and hard with the flushed rosy tip, his knot swelling up at the base. Knees around his waist, you lock your ankles as he sinks in, moaning, tangling his fingers with yours as his knot rubs against your clit, spreading the slick that is drooling from your cunt. The steady, slow thrusts of his cock make more heat spread through your limbs.

Soap tilts your head to the side for a kiss, sucking on your tongue, swallowing the whines and moans you make as Gaz starts to pump his hips, knot knocking against your entrance at each thrust, pushing just a little harder each time. When he slips it in, just a little, you bite down on Soap's lip, drawing a ragged gasp from the other man. Ghost and Price are watching, shoulder to shoulder, and you hear their moans when Gaz does it again, popping in and out just to make you squirm.

"Alpha, alpha please," you moan, and soft, liquid lightning pours down your spine as Gaz finally holds your hips steady and works his knot in, spreading you open, the wet sound of your cunt swallowing him to the root ringing in your ears like a bell. He's a perfect fit, snug from tip to base, and his thighs tremble when you start to come on his knot, heat flushing down your chest, holding him in place. His hips pinned to yours are all you need for a while, catching your breath as he settles in, the throb of his knot inside you making both your bodies ache, softly moaning.

You both shout when Soap, impatient, gets his hand between your bodies, working his fingers over your clit, making you clench down hard. The knot is immovable, wedged deep, and the desperate squeeze of your pussy around it and the throbbing ache in your clit make your eyes roll back, coming again, and Gaz buries his face into your shoulder as he begins to come with you, a steady rush of heat filling you up. He can't move with your bodies locked together, but he grinds a little, Soap's fingers pressed hard against your clit, and the reflexive twitch and clench send more slick squirting out around the edges of his knot.

He's the quickest to lose his knot of them all, and the flood of come that drips from your hole when he sighs and pulls back out makes you moan again. It's sloppy, messy, and Soap's fingers slip through it easily, scooping up some to lick for himself. He offers his hand to Ghost, too, and the big man hums in pleasure as he does, holding Gaz's warm, fucked out eyes until he blushes through his darker skin.

Soap's happy to keep kissing you breathless for a while, sharing the rich taste of Gaz's come to your tongue, as Ghost lifts your hips and rubs the tip of his cock against your hole. He's thick, hard, and you whine when he stretches your hole out. It's soft and warmed up from Gaz, and sucks his cock inside easily, making him groan as that unbelievable heat soaks into him from the groin up.

The steady, hard thrusts make you shift on the bed, breasts bouncing, and you whine and tangle your fingers into Soap's mohawk when he moves down to suck your nipple. Gaz gets his mouth on the other, and they tease and nip with their teeth, sloppily kissing each other over you as Ghost pants, moaning low in his throat as his knot swells up, so wet with your slick that it slips out of your hole at first, nearly splashing with the force of his hips as he grunts and works his knot in. The sweet stretch of it makes your muscles quiver, rhythmic clenching as he drags your body against his, bending to kiss Gaz and have his own throat licked by Soap, the meeting of their mouths above your body a gorgeous, messy vision.

You whine and clench at the sight of them, heat-haze swamping your mind, reaching out to pull them one by one back to your own mouth. Ghost rumbles deep in his chest, and you sob outright when he places his hand over your lower belly, his knot curving under his palm through layers of fat and muscle. Your clit is swollen, so sensitive it hurts, and the little rolling thrusts he makes tug at the hidden nerves, more come flooding into you as your body squeezes and flexes, milking him, drinking it up eagerly.

Ghost is moaning and shaking, orgasm drawing more softness out of him, and he shoulders Soap and Gaz aside to cuddle over you, wrapping you in his embrace as his knot throbs and cock twitches. He's rumbling so deep in his chest it's practically a purr, and he only reluctantly shifts his hips away when you whimper. The heat is still rolling through you, and a softened knot can't compare to the ready ones still waiting their turn.

Ghost pulls out carefully, ducking down to kiss you, and Price edges him aside to make room. His hips are thick and strong, and you open up eagerly for him, moaning into Ghosts mouth when he slides in. His cock is so heavy you can feel the weight of it, like it's holding you down, and there's a squelch as his knot, half-full, slips inside on the first thrust.

He takes advantage of your hole, sloppy and loose, and fucks you with it.

Ghost let's go of your mouth as you keen, wailing when each thrust from Price slams his knot inside then pulls it out again, your pussy gaping open for it every time. There's a sharp throbbing in your clit that spreads down, making your nerves sing, your belly tighten and clench as he keeps forcing you open over and over. Starbursts float in the corners of your eyes as the orgasm explodes, a wave of heat and sensation, and doesn't stop- can't stop- Price finally locks his cock inside you and his knot swells fully, immovable, and you sob brokenly as your cunt flutters and squeezes around him.

He's groaning over you as come is milked from him, his cock spurting inside you, your belly so full of come you can almost feel it swelling. His knot stays hard, too, a plug forcing all of their come deeper inside, your thighs soft and limp as another little pulse of orgasm ripples through you.

Soap takes your hips, when Price finally pulls out, and rolls you over to your front. You can't hold yourself up, and he props up your body with pillows. You feel his fingers in your hole, his tongue licking up a thick line of come dripping out, and then he's inside, in and thrusting hard, so heavy and fast- he's not having sex, he's using you, a wet and open hole to drain his knot into.

Soft ah ah aahs spill from your lips as he fucks you, ass bouncing, your clit rubbing against the pillow. A fist tangles in your hair, lifting your head, and your moans echo the other men as they watch you be taken. No strength in your limbs left, just Soap holding your head up to see the fucked out, heat-drunk, drooling mess of your face, while his cock and knot slam hard into your cunt. If you're coming, you can't tell, all your senses overwhelmed into a foggy ache of pleasure and pain. There's more liquid lightning down your spine, cunt managing to clench just that little bit more, and Soap snarls and forces his knot deep into you, the bubbling mess of come soaking your pussy and thighs leaking onto the pillows.

He holds you like that while he comes, head pulled back so far it's a struggle to breathe, until he releases you at last. You heave for breath, as someone works a plug into your cunt- a big one, to hold in all the come where you're so stretched and gaping- and are rolled off onto a clean spot of mattress as your eyes drift shut.

A nap, and then when you wake, you'll be ready for two of them in your cunt at once.

By the end of the heat, you'll be begging for all four.

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stargrillzz · 1 month ago

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Collide

summary: He wasn't the flirtatious type, or the jealous type, or in any way thought he would want to get involved with anyone more than necessary, but of course you came along and had to turn things around for him.

note: Im on my meds again so I have plentyb of time to write. ALSO this is just pure hot talking and filthy, theres brealy a plot, just bucky having the hots. xoxo

Wings in the Sky

The comms in the Quinjet buzzed with Tony’s voice, sharp and laced with sarcasm.

“So, fun little update, team — we've got a shirtless, winged fairy-girl from hell flying over Brooklyn, throwing green lightning at terrified civilians like it’s Mardi Gras.”

Steve looked up from the tactical display, brow furrowed.

“She’s attacking people?”

“Technically? No. Just terrifying them,” Tony replied. “But I don’t like people with glowing hands and no pants, okay? Sue me.”

Bucky sat in the corner, arms crossed, metal fingers flexing and releasing like the ticking of a clock. He hadn’t said much since boarding. He rarely did unless it was to Steve.

But as the Quinjet descended through low-hanging storm clouds, he looked out the side window — and saw you.

You floated above the rooftop like some myth ripped from forgotten pages: barefoot, wings stretched wide, their span massive, leathery and powerful like something between angel and dragon. Feathers shifted down your spine, catching the wind. The ends of your fingers glowed with a radiant green light that pulsed in rhythm with your breathing, matching the eerie glow in your eyes.

Below you, six teenagers laughed and screamed — not in fear, but joy — because you had them hovering, spinning in midair as if gravity had taken the day off. One girl did cartwheels ten feet above the rooftop, her eyes wide in wonder.

You were smiling — that was the first thing Steve noticed as he stepped onto the roof. A real smile. Until Tony opened his mouth.

“Alright, Tinker Bell,” he called, blaster raised but not firing. “Why don’t you let the kiddies down and we talk about you possibly joining the no-fly list?”

You turned slowly toward him, the green glow of your magic flaring like a heartbeat. Your smile dropped.

Without a word, you flicked your hand, and a blast of green energy surged from your palm, faster than any of them expected. It slammed into Tony’s chest with a sonic thud, launching him back against the rooftop wall. His armor cracked the brick as he groaned through the speaker.

“Okay, ow. Definitely not a talker.”

Steve stepped forward, hands raised in a defensive gesture.

“Wait—hey! We don’t want to hurt you.”

But by then, Bucky had already moved. Silent, fast, precise — he sprinted across the rooftop, aiming to flank you from behind. His metal arm gleamed under the dark clouds as he lunged — but you twisted midair, wings folding in, and kicked him hard across the face. He tumbled back with a grunt, boots skidding across broken gravel.

“Don’t touch me” you snarled, your voice layered, as though something ancient was speaking just beneath your human tone.

You hovered just inches above the ground now, breath shaking, hands trembling with built-up power. Your skirt fluttered with the wind, and your chest rose and fell in uneven waves. There was blood on your side — a long, burned mark trailing across your ribs.

Steve paused, noticing it.

“You’re hurt.”

You blinked, breath catching. The green in your eyes flickered.

“They did it,” you hissed, eyes darting to the teenagers now huddling behind a crate. “I didn’t do anything. I was flying, lost, and they threw iron chains at me. It burned.”

Steve took a slow step closer, lowering his shield.

“We’re not here to hurt you. But you attacked someone—” he glanced briefly toward Tony, who was still groaning in the corner “—so we have to know what’s going on.”

You looked down at your hands. They were shaking now. The magic dimmed.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, almost childlike. “I woke up in a cage. Strapped down. I didn’t remember anything — not even my name. Just… flying.”

Your voice cracked on that last word, and suddenly the weight behind your posture changed. You weren’t a threat anymore. You were wounded, confused, and powerful enough to be dangerous.

Bucky stood slowly from where he’d fallen. He didn’t approach, but he watched you carefully, jaw tight. His voice was low, barely audible.

“You don’t remember who you are?”

You shook your head.

“No. I just know I’m not from here. Or... maybe I was. Once. I don’t know why iron burns me. Or why I can fly. Or why I cant remember anything.”

Something about that last sentence hit Steve hard. He glanced at Bucky — who was still watching you like someone trying to read a dream that wouldn’t hold still — maybe another HYDRA experiment.

“Come with us,” Steve said gently. “We have a place where you can rest. We can help figure out who you are. What happened to you.”

“I don’t trust you,” you replied instantly, even as your voice trembled.

“I wouldn’t either,” Bucky muttered under his breath, but you heard it — and your glowing eyes flicked to him for the first time.

He met your gaze — cold, tired, but not angry. Just... distant. Like someone who understood what it meant to be hunted and lost.

After a long pause, you nodded.

“Okay. But if you put me in a cage again—”

“We won’t,” Steve said, before you could finish.

“I’ll burn the whole damn tower down.”

“Fair,” Tony groaned. “Love her already.”

Your wings folded slowly against your back as your feet touched the rooftop. You stumbled a little, still weak, and instinctively reached for something — anything — to steady yourself.

And Bucky, silent and brooding, was the one who stepped forward.

You caught his metal arm.

For a second, neither of you moved.

And that was how it began.

jelousl- what? no. definitely not jelously

The mat smelled like sweat and rubber. Sunlight spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting harsh lines across the Avengers’ training room. The rhythmic thud of gloves hitting a punching bag echoed from the corner — Bucky, shirtless, fists moving with mechanical precision, though if you looked closely, his punches weren’t landing quite as hard as they usually did.

Because his eyes kept flicking sideways.

You were in the center of the mat, barefoot, wearing tight black workout shorts and a sports bra, arms lazily raised as Steve circled you. You were grinning — that grin that made everyone nervous or intrigued — and Steve looked half-exasperated, half-amused.

“I thought this was a sparring session, not a flirtation marathon,” he chuckled, dodging your lazy jab.

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying the view, Cap,” you purred, twisting into a sharp kick that he blocked at the last second, catching your leg and holding it there, high in the air.

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming.

“Want me to stay like this a little longer? It’s kind of hot.”

Steve’s laugh was loud and easy. “You’re impossible.”

“Admit it. You love me"

From the corner, Bucky’s jaw ticked. His metal hand curled into a fist

“She doesn’t take anything seriously,” he muttered under his breath, punching the bag once — a quick, sharp jab.

“Again,” Steve said, gently dropping your leg and stepping back. “You’re improving. Your center of balance is better.”

“That’s because I was imagining straddling you.”

He coughed. “Well. That explains your footwork.”

From the edge of the room, Bucky’s eyes narrowed. You caught the look — because you always caught his looks — and winked at him mid-fight, then whispered something to Steve that made him laugh again.

You weren’t sure why it felt good to get under Bucky’s skin. Maybe it was because he acted like you weren’t even worth his breath — like you were noise, static, an irritation. But that reaction in his eyes? The way he always looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching? That was attention.

And you knew how to work with attention.

The kitchen was dim, most of the team scattered off to showers or personal downtime. You were barefoot again, still in your training gear, chugging a bottle of water at the sink when you heard a low grunt.

You turned.

Bucky was leaning against the far counter, towel around his neck, hair damp, a fresh bruise blooming on his cheekbone. His metal arm caught the overhead light as he grabbed an apple from the bowl and took a bite like it offended him.

You walked over, casual, leaning your hip against the counter beside him.

“You always this friendly, or is today special?”

He didn’t answer.

“How’s the punching bag?” you tried again, eyeing the bruises across his knuckles. “Did it talk back this time?”

Still no answer. You let the silence linger.

“Hey.” Your voice softened. “How are you, really?”

That made him pause. He stared at the apple, then let out a breath — not quite a sigh.

“Tired,” he muttered finally.

You nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

Another long pause. You leaned your elbows on the counter now, closer, voice lower.

“You still have the nightmares?”

His eyes flicked to yours. Suspicious. Guarded. Then something softened, just a little.

“Yeah,” he said, almost inaudibly. “Some nights it’s like I’m still there. Tied down. Strapped in. Can’t scream. Can’t move.”

You didn’t smile. You didn’t joke. You looked at him, and for once, your voice held none of that edge you usually wore like armor.

“I get that,” you whispered. “I don’t have memories of what was done to me. But I have dreams. Screaming. Fire. Cold. Chains. Pain. Waking up with blood in my mouth and I don’t know if it’s mine or not.”

His breath caught. His grip tightened around the apple, veins straining in his human hand.

“I don’t know who I am, Bucky,” you said, quietly. “You hate me for being flippant. For teasing. For acting like everything’s a joke. But that’s all I have. I either laugh, or I fall apart. And I can’t fall apart. Because if I do... what’s left?”

He looked at you then — really looked. His usual cold stare was gone. Replaced by something softer, sadder. Familiar.

“You’re not alone,” he said finally. “If you ever feel like you’re gonna break... I’ll be there.”

You blinked, taken off-guard by the sudden sincerity.

“Wow,” you breathed, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Is that an offer, Barnes? Because I’ve been waiting for you to throw me against a wall, but I didn’t expect it to come with emotional support.”

He groaned softly, turning his face away.

“And there she is again,” he muttered.

You leaned closer, lips brushing near his ear.

“You like it.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re jealous,” you said, voice lilting, playful again. “Every time I flirt with Steve, you get that little twitch in your jaw like you’re about to break something.”

He looked at you, unreadable for a long moment.

“You think too much of yourself,” he muttered.

“Maybe,” you grinned, stepping back with a shrug. “But I don’t think I’m wrong.”

He didn’t respond. But the way his eyes lingered on your mouth before you turned away told you everything.

And you felt it in your chest — a shift. A tiny thread pulled tight between you and the Winter Soldier.

For the first time... he wasn’t pushing you away.

Heat Between the Lines

Movie night at the Tower was supposed to be relaxing. A rare moment of peace. Blankets. Popcorn. Dumb commentary.

But for Bucky Barnes, it felt like hell.

You were curled on the oversized couch, nestled between Steve and Bucky — technically — but you leaned entirely toward Steve, your thigh pressed to his, your body angled in a way that clearly favored one side.

And Bucky saw everything.

Your bare leg had somehow found its way into Steve’s lap, foot playfully nudging his thigh, and Steve... well, Steve didn’t seem to mind. His hand rested just above your knee, fingers splayed comfortably as he whispered something that made you laugh — that low, wicked, sultry kind of laugh that always did something to Bucky’s chest he didn’t like.

The light from the TV flickered over your face — all sharp cheekbones, smug lips, and bright, glinting eyes. You were wearing that damned oversized hoodie again, sleeves pushed up to your elbows, the hem barely covering the shorts underneath. Casual. Effortless. Dangerous.

Bucky sat stiff beside you, body angled slightly away like you had a contagious disease — or like if he got one inch closer, he might actually say something he couldn’t take back.

Your leg shifted slightly, brushing his jeans.

He didn’t move.

But his jaw? Locked.

Sam, on the floor with a pillow under his chest, snorted at something on screen. Tony made some quip about the movie’s plot holes. Natasha leaned back with her wine and gave you a look, clearly clocking the hand still resting on your thigh.

But Steve?

Steve turned his head toward you, grinning. His voice dropped just enough for Bucky to hear it.

“Y’know,” Steve murmured, face inching closer to yours, “if you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna start thinking this movie wasn’t the reason you sat here.”

You laughed. Low. A little breathy. Like he’d hit the exact mark he was aiming for.

“Captain,” you whispered back, lifting your chin just a bit, your lips barely an inch from his. “You have no idea what I came for.”

The room howled.

Sam: “Someone get a fire extinguisher.” Natasha: “Please get a room.” Tony: “Wait, no — do it here, I need material for blackmail.”

Steve just chuckled, clearly playing into the joke. He leaned even closer, his nose nearly brushing yours. You didn’t pull away.

Bucky stood up.

Hard.

The couch shifted under the force. Everyone went silent for half a second.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t look at Steve. Just muttered something under his breath and stormed out, footsteps echoing down the hall like gunshots.

The door shut behind him.

“What the hell?” Sam blinked.

“Touchy,” Tony muttered.

You sat there, leg still draped over Steve’s lap, but your smile faltered.

Because for the first time that night, it wasn’t Steve’s hand or words that had your skin hot.

It was the heat in Bucky’s silence, the frustration vibrating off him like a second heartbeat.

And suddenly… teasing Steve didn’t feel as satisfying as it usually did.

Because the one who mattered wasn’t laughing.

The hallway was empty and dim, your bare feet silent against the cool metal floor as you walked past midnight shadows. The echoes of laughter from movie night still rang faintly in your ears, but all you could focus on was the echo of Bucky’s footsteps, heavy and sharp as he’d left.

You found him near the observation deck, facing the city skyline. Towering windows framed him in moonlight, silver bleeding into the sharp lines of his shoulders and metal arm. His back was to you, but his body was rigid — tense like a live wire. Waiting to snap.

You crossed the room slowly, cautiously, until there were only a few feet between you.

“You stormed out like you were about to kill someone,” you said, voice soft but steady.

He didn’t turn.

“That someone is Steve?”

Still nothing. You sighed.

“If you’re that worried about him, me hurting him, don’t be. We flirt as a joke. He knows that. I know that. He doesn’t care. So if that’s what this is—”

“It’s not,” Bucky said suddenly, voice low and sharp.

The words cut through the quiet like a knife.

You blinked, thrown for a second.

“Then what is it, Bucky?” you asked. “Because if I’ve done something to piss you off—”

He turned.

His expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even cold.

It was... unreadable. Something stormy behind those glacier eyes, but buried deep.

“You didn’t piss me off,” he said. “You just—”

He stopped. Shook his head. Backed away.

And before you could stop him, he was gone again. No explanation. No resolution.

Just the door whispering closed behind him.

Plot twist

Something was off.

For three days, Bucky hadn’t glared at you once. No brooding glances, no bitter muttering, no narrow-eyed judgment when you teased Steve.

Instead?

He flirted.

Blatantly.

When you walked into the training room on Monday morning, he was already there — sweaty, shirtless, arms folded behind his head, waiting.

“You’re late,” he said, smirking. “I was starting to think you didn’t wanna see me.”

You raised a brow. “Did you hit your head again, soldier?”

“Only on the thought of you.” A wink.

A literal wink.

You’d gaped.

By Wednesday, it had gotten worse.

He sat next to you at breakfast. Close. Way too close. Your thigh was nearly in his lap and he made no move to scoot away.

“You always smell this good in the morning?” he muttered near your ear, voice rough and low.

You’d choked on your coffee.

By Thursday night, you'd had enough.

You cornered him in the hallway outside the gym, hands on your hips, heart pounding with confusion and something hotter you didn’t want to name.

“What the hell is going on with you?” you asked.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Smug. Calm. Eyes dancing with amusement.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re being... weird,” you said. “You’re being nice. Flirty. You’re acting like you don’t hate me.”

“Maybe I never hated you,” he said simply. “Maybe I just didn’t know how to deal with someone who pushed every button I had.”

“So what, now you’re pushing back?”

“No,” he said, stepping forward until you had to tilt your head to meet his eyes. His breath was warm. His mouth too close. “I’m showing you how it’s done.”

Your mouth parted slightly. You meant to say something — some smartass line, some witty comeback — but nothing came out.

His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“You like playing games, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let’s see how you do when I start playing too.”

And then?

He walked away.

Cool. Collected.

Leaving you breathless. And burning.

Cold war...or maybe...hot war?

The team was scattered in the common room, lazily regrouping after a debrief. It hadn’t been a full mission — just recon — but you'd returned exhausted and still dressed in your skin-tight combat gear. The kind that clung in all the right places, slick with sweat and danger.

Steve stood behind you, his large hands on your shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing the tension from your neck while you half-sat on the counter.

You smirked, head tilted back toward him.

“Careful, Captain. Touch me like that and I’ll start thinking this post-mission massage means something.”

He chuckled, slow and warm. “You say that like it doesn’t.”

That earned a few chuckles from the room.

But across the space, Bucky’s eyes locked on you. His stare was a silent storm. Burning. And when Steve’s fingers dug a little deeper into your traps, and your eyes fluttered closed with a soft sigh?

Bucky stood up.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked over — slow, deliberate — and stopped right in front of you, between your legs. You opened your eyes and blinked at him.

“Problem, Barnes?”

He leaned forward, one hand bracing beside your thigh, the other resting lightly on your bare knee — and sliding up. Slowly.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, voice low and dark. “You’re touching the wrong super soldier.”

You felt your breath catch. The room went completely still.

You were strapping knives to your thigh holsters, leaning over the prep table when you heard someone behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around. You could feel him.

“Careful,” Bucky’s voice drawled from behind you, low and slow. “You bend over like that and I’m gonna start thinking this mission’s a date.”

You smirked, not even looking back.

“Then I guess you’ll have to buy me dinner after.”

“Or breakfast. Depends how late we’re up.”

You turned then, raising a brow. “You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

He stepped into your space, hands brushing the sides of your hips as if to adjust the holsters — but you both knew he was just touching you. His voice dropped, warm against your cheek.

“You want subtle?” he murmured. “Or do you want me to pull you into the weapons locker and make you beg?”

Your heart thudded — not from nerves. From how badly you wanted to call his bluff.

“Do it,” you whispered, eyes locked on his mouth.

He held your gaze for a heartbeat longer — then smirked, stepping back.

“Later. Gotta keep our cover, right?”

And just like that, he was gone again. Like a damn storm cloud that refused to rain.

You were mid-laugh, sitting way too close to Steve on the couch — knees touching, your hand lingering on his bicep as you talked about some embarrassing thing Sam had done on a mission.

Steve, being Steve, was smiling like a golden retriever — completely unbothered by how close you were. Or maybe he knew you were just being you.

Then the room went cold.

Bucky dropped down onto the couch on your other side. He didn’t even look at Steve — just pressed into you so closely his thigh pushed against yours, shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, voice like velvet. “Miss me?”

You tilted your head. “You jealous again?”

“Nah. Just don’t want you wasting your time with the wrong soldier.”

Steve shot him a look, clearly irritated.

“She’s not wasting anything, Buck.”

“No,” Bucky said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But I will be if I have to keep hearing you flirt like a Hallmark card.”

Your hand reached out and slapped Bucky lightly in the chest.

“Be nice.”

“Not when it comes to you,” he said, turning to you fully. His metal fingers trailed across your knee. “I don’t like to share.”

And he didn’t move. Didn’t pull back. He stayed right there, crowding your space, daring you to react.

Steve stood up.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” he muttered, walking off.

You turned to Bucky, incredulous.

“Seriously?”

“What?” he said innocently. “He had enough of the show.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Only when I’m right.”

You and Steve were on the mats, locked in fast-paced sparring. You ducked under his arm, swept his leg, and earned a low grunt of surprise as he stumbled back.

“Getting cocky?” he teased, adjusting his footing.

“Always,” you shot back, smirking. “But I’ve earned it.”

He lunged — you twisted. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a controlled hold. Your back hit his chest, and you let out a breathless laugh.

“Okay, okay, showoff,” you gasped. “You win this round.”

“Damn right I do,” Steve said, chuckling, still holding you a second longer than necessary.

Then — the training room door slammed open.

“Seriously?” Bucky’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

Steve let go of you immediately. You turned to see Bucky stalking into the room, eyes hard, jaw tight.

“Got a problem?” Steve asked calmly.

“Just looks like training’s gotten real hands-on.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped back. “Bucky—”

“What?” he snapped. “You can flirt with him in front of the whole damn tower, but the second I say something—”

“She’s not doing anything wrong,” Steve interrupted, voice firm now. “You are.”

Bucky turned, surprised. “Excuse me?”

Steve took a step forward, his arms crossed.

“Don’t act like she’s a problem just because you can’t keep your shit together.”

“I’m just saying—”

“No. You’re sulking. Watching her like a hawk, cutting in every time she talks to me, and acting like you’ve got some claim on her when you haven’t even told her how you feel.”

You blinked — surprised at how clearly Steve had just said it. No anger in his voice. Just tired honesty.

He turned to you then, expression softening.

“You’re great,” he said quietly. “This isn’t about you. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Then back to Bucky — harder now.

“But you? You don’t get to take it out on her just because you’re too damn scared to be honest.”

The silence after that was brutal.

You found him in the gym, hitting the punching bag with so much precision it was almost arrogant.

“You’re gonna break that,” you muttered.

He didn’t turn.

“That why you came down here?” he said. “To watch me hit something hard?”

You exhaled, walking in slowly, letting your fingers trail along the rack of weapons.

“You’ve been acting insane lately.”

“You like it.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is.”

You stepped up to him now, close. The scent of sweat and leather was thick on him, and the glow of his skin from training made your fingers twitch.

“You overstep every time I’m near Steve.”

“And?”

“Why?”

He stepped forward, almost chest to chest now, metal hand grazing your hip.

“Because I don’t like sharing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You don’t have me.”

His voice dropped into something dark and devastating.

“Yet.”

You swallowed, throat tight.

He leaned in, his lips just brushing the shell of your ear.

“But you started this, baby. All those filthy things you said. All that teasing. The touching. You don’t get to be surprised now that I’m playing dirty back.”

You turned your face to him, lips barely apart.

“What if I want you to?”

He paused — just long enough for the silence to throb between your bodies.

Then he whispered, low and dangerous:

“Then stop running your mouth… and show me.”

You stared at him — his lips hovering near yours, breath hot against your skin, chest rising and falling like he was holding back a storm.

One more second passed. Then another. Then you moved.

Your hand slid up his chest, fingers curling around the collar of his black tank top. He didn’t resist — didn’t move — just watched you with those storm-grey eyes, waiting.

You tilted your head slightly.

And then — you kissed him.

Soft. Intentional. Not a war. Not a power play. Just your mouth, gently pressing to his. Choosing him.

He made a sound deep in his chest — surprised, almost pained — like the moment had knocked the breath out of him.

Then his hand rose to your waist, the flesh one, pulling you closer. The metal hand stayed loose at his side, like he didn’t trust himself to use it.

The kiss deepened, slow and trembling — his lips parting, yours following — your fingers threading lightly through the hair at the back of his neck.

He kissed you like he’d been holding it in for months. Like he’d mapped out a thousand versions of this moment and couldn’t believe it was real.

“You have no idea,” he breathed between kisses, voice shaking slightly, “what you’re doing to me.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were hooded, lips parted, and for once — silent.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you whispered. “I just wanted to see if you'd finally do something about it.”

Bucky’s fingers flexed against your waist. His forehead rested against yours, breath shallow, chest heaving.

“You’re dangerous,” he said softly.

“You like dangerous.”

His lips twitched into the faintest, crooked smile. Then he kissed you again — once, slow and firm — and pulled back.

But this time, when he stepped away, it wasn’t retreat. It was promise.

“This doesn’t stop here,” he murmured, eyes lingering on your lips.

“Good,” you said. “I didn’t want it to.”

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khimkhim · 3 months ago

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It’s kind of pathetic how weak I am when it comes to stretchmarks. I’m fucking obsessed with them. Obviously getting fat is already a physical manifestation of how much of a piggy a person is but stretchmarks are different. They’re a tangible symbol of how *desperately* greedy a piggy is. You ate so much and so quickly that your skin couldn’t even keep up with your swelling body. Bursting at the seams — literally. When my feedee started to scratch her belly more often I knew what was about to happen even before she did. I saw faint little red marks that could’ve been scratch marks but sure enough — a week or two later they were little red lightning marks. Once the first ones appear they’re almost always followed by more, and sure enough again, a month later she had them all over her tummy. It’s fuckin magical. Don’t even get me STARTED on when a new feedee stretches, raises their arms up, and that shirt lifts up justttt enough to reveal those cute little jagged lines on the bottom of their tummy 😩 I’m a big fan of stretchmarks if you couldn’t tell. Please DM me your stretchmarks!! Haha just kidding. Unless… 🥺

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toytle · 6 days ago

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my ac broke

[ID: sketchpage of various barry allen’s on a hot day, doing things like wiping his face with his shirt, getting splashed with water, sitting in front of a fan, stretching arms, eating ice cream, and melting into a puddle. he is in gym attire and has lightning top surgery scars and stretch marks.]

tip jar

#barry allen #the flash #dc #dc comics #dc fanart #detective comics #berry allen #alt text #described #dandoodles #i’m dying squirtle

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bodhiscurls · 20 days ago

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exceptional. ( bodhi durran )

you should've known that xaden riorson would've come after you after attacking violet sorrengail. but what xaden should've known is that bodhi durran would destroy the earth and everything in its existence than have someone lay a hand on you. based off of xaden saying "he's my cousin of course he's exceptional"

pairing: bodhi durran x marked fem! reader (ice signet), xaden riorson x violet sorrengail.

themes: angst, violence, wholesome but deadly bodhi.

in all fairness, violet sorrengail was a bitch who had it coming.

it had been a week of the nightly shifts being dumped on you and maybe you were letting the lack of sleep get to you. or maybe it was the extra funny stares that came your way from standing guard at her door or most likely it was the fact that you had hardly seen your boyfriend this week. the thought of being in his vicinity felt far too impossible and it tore at your heart through scrapped edges.

you had another hour left of this shit before your friend liam would take over in the morning and with a single glance into the distance, you felt the yearning stretch your mind.

fucking xaden, you grumble under your breath. with you watching over violet and bodhi on the drop offs, the loneliness crept on you closer it felt as though you'd been caged in.

you feel a creak and instantly shift in alertness. a scan across your surroundings confirms your suspicion that it must be violet awake in her room. nonetheless, you knock lazily.

"sorrengail, shout if you need help," the slumber draws out your speech and the door rips open too quickly you think it may fall off its hinges.

"fuck you," she angrily meets your gaze and your brows furrow in confusion.

"i'm taken sorrengail and even if i wasn't," you scan her head to toe dressed in her night attire, "hard fucking pass."

she storms past you, deliberately brushing into you and the thin thread of patience holding your sanity together snaps within a second.

"hey," you snarl ridden of all your usual composure, "watch it worm." she meets your low warning with a scoff.

"or what huh? you can't even bark unless your master orders you to," and she faces you, stance hardened as steel. you stick your tongue into your cheek, biting back the retort and rising above the pettiness radiating from her.

"you're brave tonight," you level, edge and warning laced in your tone and she scans her eyes down to the daggers laced at your hips. not that you need them given the fact that violet sorrengail the first year who should have been a scribe is not well rehearsed in anything other than being a naive fool. "when you're done playing child, get back inside," you order.

"you're not the boss of me," a glint of defiance shines and by each second you grow more and more annoyed by the minute. "matter of fact, why don't you call your boss down here i've got plenty to say to him to."

and a flash of a milisecond is all it takes for you to rip a dagger from its holder and slice it in her direction. she's caught off guard, backing herself into the wall where the edge of the blade gently cuts her temple upon landing. she knows you could've striked her dead in the forehead but she knows that you also know the importance of her life being tethered to xaden.

"you will put some fucking respect on his name when you speak of the wingleader," you warn softly. violet however, feeling the surge of lightning ripple through her veins has decided that no, tonight she will not listen to anyone. she will not be ordered or babysat, she can and will carve her own way into this world. she pulls back, gently tapping to feel the crimson streak prickle from her temples to her fingers and thats when all she can see is red.

she runs to you, its sloppy and lazy like her steps are too large for her small feet to carry and so you let her knock into you. its not enough to take you to the ground but enough to cause a little stumble. if that destroys her confidence in anyway she only lets it show through wrinkle in her brows and moves on to throwing punches.

she's out of sync and it'd be awful if you really showed her what you're capable of- this likens to kicking a poor defenseless puppy so you let her throw (and miss) more heavy punches that lack force and drive. you catch her fist lazily "you're embarrassing yourself sorrengail, give it up," there's no malice in your tone, slight amusement but mainly annoyance. really, she couldn't save this energy for liam?

"oh yeah?" she's out of breath, "look at you so high and mighty huh, you weren't even enough to save your mother," she spits and your brain doesn't have time to catch up with your fist slamming her to the ground. you're seething, the anger radiating off of you in waves and if you had the right head space or enough time to stop and think you would have actually stopped and thought.

a kick to her side that will have her seeing blue and purple tomorrow makes her scream out in pain but the sound is not enough to stop you, it only fuels your fire. punches on punches, you lift her frail weak body into the air and slam it back down to the earth. somewhere in the distance a streak of lightning threatens the sky, drawing closer to you but like first year squabbling underneath you- its out of sync and misses you by yards.

you pull back, chest heavy in deep breaths as she lies shuddering.

"the next time you even think let alone speak of my mother, remember how your skin feels on this ground, because next time you'll feel it again six feet below," you swear with a hiss. she croaks out a futile apology but the blows have landed and the damage has been done.

its five am when you leave violet sorrengail bloodied and bruised in her hallway. not dead, not even unconscious, but alive enough to remember this lesson and live to seek retribution.

...

its fifteen minutes past five when you're lifted off the ground.

black shadows enclose around your throat, around your arms strapping you in an entrapment only capable of xaden riorson. his eyes mimic the streaks of onyx that menacingly threaten to cut off your oxygen supply and end your existence right here and there and for a second, you still.

you weren't stupid enough to kill violet knowing the effect it would have on your leader but you were stupid enough to disobey his blatant order-

"she was not to be touched," he whispers into the stillness of the early morning, cutting your thoughts clean. its a promise he swore, an oath you took and broke and a valid reason for punishment.

"she went too far xaden- wingleader riorson," in this moment its futile bargaining with your closest friend. right here right now, gone are the memories of running free at riorson house with grass in your hair and suits of cardboard armour. gone are the laughters that come from mischief and sneaking in on your parents discussing battle briefs and running silly after thieving from the kitchens.

what takes his place is him and you, a chain of command and a promise of death distinguishing the two.

"you took it too far, cadet," he spits. "i saw how you left her- not even a scratch was supposed to touch her. she was failed under your protection, by you." each word is a deliberate articulation laced with malice and control and he was right, you let your feelings get the best of you.

"riorson, stop," you gasp through ragged breaths, if you just could create enough room to wiggle and let your hands break free then-

and they do. for a split second, you wrestle and use your signet of ice wielding to freeze at his ankles, his hands and slowly by slowly the cold waters rush up his body.

its working you think, he faulters slightly but he's still got a strong hold on you as he dangles you in the air and its a dangerous bet fighting with xaden riorson- no one has lived to tell the tale but it gives you a slight satisfaction to know you're not the only one hurting. it's either he kills you or you kill him and if you weren't so damn focused on surviving maybe you could've figured out which option was less scarier.

until you're not floating anymore and a pool of water splashes from the air and bounces off the cool tiled floors.

your hands clutch your throat as your body is thrown across the floor with a vicious thud. dark splotches overtake your vision in a fit of dizziness but you can make out the shape of another figure you know well and love completely.

where you've hit the floor not so gracefully, bodhi durran has his hands at his cousins throat pushing him so far into the stone walls that you're sure he's going to leave an indent of the shape of xaden riorson.

it's been a week since you've last seen your lover that in your dazed haze you lie on the floor with a manic smile settling on your lips. you marvel at the softness of his curls that are a stark contrast to the stoic stillness he exudes at a height slightly shorter than his cousin. his black tee is soaked with your icy water and compresses all the muscles you have memorised underneath as his tan skin shines in the white streaks of morning light peaking through the windows. goodness, the skies above must feel how hard you have missed bodhi durran.

"you laid your fucking hand on her," he seethed, and you've never heard bodhi's voice dip this low of an octave as if the timbers aim to reach the very core of the earth. xaden pushes him off slightly but bodhi's got a death grip of his chest, holding him so close.

"she disobeyed an order," xaden makes out the words with a perfect stillness as if being flung halfway across the room hardly has any effect on him and as you stand there clutching your hip you decide that you hate him more than you hated violet in that disastrous moment. "she suffers the consequences," he tries to make an indifferent shrug but bodhi barrels him to the floor. they engage in a silent combat albeit a few huffs and growls. bodhi moves with the same deathly stillness as his cousin. each move is calculated, deliberate, designed to strike where it hurts the most. it's high risk high reward between the two of them, almost cathartic as bodhi slices his dagger alongside the length of xaden's neck.

"she hurt violet," xaden hisses as the metallic smell of blood fills the air. he twists his form and traps bodhi to the ground with his hips locked firmly. "yield," he orders. its a moment of silence, defiance in stares before bodhi uses the momentum of his lower half to completely knock xaden over and dives into a firm headlock.

"she is my violet, she's more than violet could ever be" he breathes heavily, voice straining with the thick of emotion. "and you laid your hands on her," between every breath is a flare of nostrils and for a moment you can no longer recognise the man that you love. you've known him capable to be the most skillful rider and soldier of your generation but you've never known his capable to kill his own blood.

"yield," a pause. "or it will be a damn shame to kill my last living relative," his whisper is a solemn swear into the darkness as he counters any chance of xaden using his shadow signet- xaden should have known how exceptional his cousin is and it's a shame he had to find out through advanced hand to hand combat.

"no," xaden's voice is firm and you roll your eyes, wincing through the pain in an effort to stand- or rather sway.

"bodhi," you call out and he softens, relaxing slightly at the sight of you and its enough for xaden to break free. you are however quicker and aware of how dirty of a fighter xaden riorson is and chain him through ice glaciers to the wall.

bodhi dusts himself off like this ordeal was an inconvenience and meets you at your side as his cousin is half frozen into a wall. matching limps and bruises you really were soulmates. he uses his free arm to grip your waist and haul you against him, carrying most of your numbed weight. you slump against his frame gratefully, resting your head on his bruised shoulder.

"you were right xaden," you meet his betrayed gaze. "i disobeyed your order and violet sorrengail was hurt under my protection. i will die fighting for you and for our cause and i carry the burden you accepted for all of us marked ones. however, i am entitled to honour and respect- both of which sorrengail tested this morning."

xaden bows his head at your testament, tongue threatening to poke a hole through the skin of his cheek as he ponders his next words.

"i will gather violet's account and decide the next course of action. however, violet sorrengail is not to be touched," he reemphasises and grits out to the two of you.

a scoff leaves bodhi and he pulls you closer to him. "you keep your fucking hands to yourself riorson or next time you won't be so lucky," he promises and a small smile works its way onto your lips.

"come on," he mumbles into your hair with a soft slow kiss. "lets get you mended up," as you two limp away into the distance.

"wait," you pause, "maybe we should let him go," you think of xaden cuffed in ice and whatever ridiculous banishment he will sentence the two of you tomorrow. worst case, he never speaks to you again and you've lost your childhood friend for good. best case, he never speaks to you again and you'll never have to do the night shift of watching over violet sorrengail and bodhi will never have to do the drop offs again. you both could spend each day wrapped in eternal bliss and ugh it could be soooo good.

"nope," bodhi doesn't even grant xaden the grace of looking back. "let him suffer, stubborn ass."

"you know he'll never let this go right?" you meet his stormy gaze. the chocolate orbs soften gently as he stares at you in adoration. you've never felt more safer than in bodhi durran's existence.

"tough, because i'm never going to let you go," he returns. "but as hot as you are when you go batshit crazy, please leave violet looking a little more alive next time."

you react to his tease with a shove to his shoulder and he winces. it takes him less than a second to catch up to your stomping frame because the limp hurts a lot more in the aftermath and you need his strong hold to shift the weight but more importantly because there's no where you could be where bodhi durran isn't right at your side.

note: its one am and i miss my man, this one goes out to the losers who think bodhi is all soft and no edge. he is that guy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he can and will kill you !!!!!!!! he's survived wars with just a shoulder in a sling do not underestimate him !!!!!!

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b00tyliciousbabe · 11 months ago

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munch

bisexualbigboybf! x THICC!male reader

summary: manifesting my future husband

notes: THANKS FOR 1k ppl dem! BEEN IN DRAFTS FOR A WHILE. i think there needs to be some more love + appreciation for bi men and big boys so i amalgamated the two. not a fetish y’all, just a preference, they be taking care of my inner princess and for that i will ALWAYS be grateful. a lot of feminisation in this one so tread carefully. it’s a lil messy (jumps in tenses and stuff like that) but i litch couldn’t focus without getting too excited. ENJOY MY HEARTS.

song rec: normani - big boy (feat. starrah)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

your big boy bf didn’t think he had a chance with you at first, nor did he even want one. at first he hated you, watching how all the other men in your life were one flirty conversation away from having a piece of your juicy ass, and how the girls envied and coveted your thick hourglass figure. your sweet personality sickened him ; you made sure to give them your gym routine and your diet, being the beauty guru you were. but what he realised, was not that he hated you, but that he hated not having you. when he realised this, he needed you, more than anything.

you embodied a refreshing style of hyper femininity that made you all the more attractive to your bi man. seeing your body in its thick glory made him love himself more. how your belly added to your voluptuous figure, your plump cheeks, and fleshy muscle surrounding your chest and thighs, he was mesmerised by your form. you were, in his eyes, divine. little did he know that you had fallen first; his broad shoulders, strong biceps and pudgy belly practically had you ovulating. your gigantic teddy bear, standing at a foot taller than you, had a heart of gold and this protective aura around him, enamoured you.

when you debuted your relationship online, you were met with a flurry of mainly positive responses. yeah sure there were the odd few denouncing your femininity and body shaming y’all, but you ignored them because you don’t have to convince the world that you’re THEE baddie b and your man is the sexiest mf to ever exist.

luvagoalz: they are literally the embodiment of the wattpad height difference. I NEED.

user222: y/n getting dicked down DAILY by a giant is so girlboss of him.

sza: bestie got himself a big boy - y/n send me the deets for the wedding.

your bf is a huge gym rat and when you two became exclusive, your already voluptuous figure became all the more defined with his help. you were flawless. you love seeing him in the gym, sweating as the veins in his forearms pop out making him look so attractive. he definitely enjoys your company there, teasingly rubbing his bulge against your ass and face when no one was watching. his exhibitionist kink goes crazy seeing how beautifully your workout clothes hug your butt and cinch your waist. he used to be slightly insecure about his stretch marks but after a cool down session, and you complimenting them like lightning bolts imprinted on his skin, he felt superhuman. you always knew what to say to make him feel better.

he’s so protective of you. always sleeps on the side closest to the door and isn’t afraid to send someone to hospital if they even look at you the wrong way, or in a manner he doesn’t like. in his mind he’s seeded you and you’re literally carrying his kids and thus it’s his responsibility to protect you. it’s almost primal. he isn’t controlling or anything, but finds it incredibly important to remind you that with him you are completely safe.

they say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and boy was that the case during your talking stage. it was perfect; you love to cook and so he’s more than happy to try your baked goods. your boyfriend loves his sleep on the weekends and so in true house husband fashion you often prepare breakfast in an apron with your thick cheeks hanging out from behind. one day he woke up to the sweet smell of you making his favourite. groggily stumbling into the kitchen, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, long dick swinging out of his briefs as he advanced towards you.

‘good morning love.’ his deep voice sent shivers down your spine as he kissed the words into your neck. he held onto the groove of your hips, caressing your lower back with the tip of his index finger and watched as you writhed beneath him. ‘babe, what are you doing up? you need your sleep, you’ve been working so hard lately.’ you said, breathing haphazardly as he ground himself into you. ‘i missed you. and i want my morning kisses.’ beginning to untie your apron he turned you around, and removed the lace from around your neck. hiking you up on the table top, the heat of your bare ass, that his dick previous massaged into you, was cooled by the granite. you wrapped your legs around him, as your hands stroked his beard. wiping that shit eating grub off of his face, your lips came closer to his own, as you could feel his heartbeat in his throat - this man is so in love with you. the kiss lasted quite a while, precum staining the opening of his boxers and pooling on your thighs. you knew that you were about to be fucked dumb and so you turned of the hob to avoid burning the house down. the fire inside y’all was more than enough to keep you going.

your man doesn’t fully realise his own strength. he was very hesitant to have sex with you for a while and mostly stopped at groping you before his dick got too hard to ignore. so, for your first time, he had to refrain literally ripping your clothes to get to the prize of your nudity. he absolutely loves seeing you (try to) deepthroat. the reason? his size kink goes insane when you attempt to take his gigantic package. this man is LONG and GIRTHY, capable of splitting you in half and abusing all your spots with ease. the veiny sausage he’s packing could do some serious damage but he held back when it came to your first couple times with him.

he always takes time to ensure that your safe and comfortable. initially his size intimidated you, your mannerisms connoting your subtle anxiety. he kissed the fear out of you, reassuringly saying, ‘you know I would never do anything to hurt you.’

your boyfriend is the KING of consent, always ensuring that you want his big cock just as much as he wants to feel the warmth of your boy pussy. one day whilst he was working from home, he noticed you squirming like an omega in heat. he sighed and smirked. ‘d’you want me to fuck you?’ he burst out. already used to his blunt disposition, you nodded. advancing closer towards you, staring down at the desperation in your face, he stroked your hair. ‘use your words y/n, i wanna hear how badly you want it.’ his charisma practically had you high. ‘I need you, please.’ you began to undo the string that held up his joggers, as he removed his tshirt. ‘i can never say no to my baby boy.’ he smiled, pants bunching at his ankles as he slowly railed on the edge of your shared bed.

he encourages you to take him fully each time, praising you because no one else had been able to take him past halfway. ‘i know baby, i know, do it one more time for me.’ he said endearingly, wiping the tears from your face as his dick invaded your throat.‘THERE IT ISSS UGH FUCK! i love your mouth.’ he cooed.

equally, your bf is the only man you’ve been with that’s been able to satisfy you sexually. you steered clear from all the men who were only interested in your body and not your heart and so you had very minimal experience outside of toys and your hands. the few you may or may not have been with were damn near clueless. on the other hand…your man has had plenty of hoe phases. it sly bugged you how he’d been intimate with a greater number you could’ve imagined but all that disappeared when he first made love to you. the best thing about him is that he can handle allat that ass. despite the clear size difference this doesn’t stop you from being a FREAK. He even encourages it. loving your thick globes of ass flesh kiss his lower belly as you push back and twerk all over his dick. his favourite part of your shape are your hips. he wants to breed you full of his children.

whenever he says ‘fuck yeah baby, back that shit up.’ it sends you orbital. it’s well known that the two of you share a huge affinity for doggy. the way you stroke his pudginess while he rails you in that position has become a safety mechanism - one that he has learnt to make the experience all the more enjoyable. with one hand holding you up (realistically struggling to, under the sheer passion of his fucking) and the other one bent behind your back fingering his belly button. his huge dick borderline tears you open and by grabbing onto him makes you feel safe. he usually recognises that it’s getting a bit too much when your moans become screams, and you get tighter. and as much as he loves seeing you overstimulated and fucked out on his cock, he doesn’t wanna break you (completely). so he slows down, soothing your pain with sweet nothings and his large hands massaging your ass cheeks.

for him personally though, he loves to smush you underneath his weight. in prone bone, he has direct access to your ear, whispering words of affirmation but degrading you with the grip of his arms around your neck. his beard hair softly touching your cheek, causing a wave of bliss to hit you, always gets him going. he knows you love hearing him praise you; his grunts are so delectable, a symphony with the percussion of him clapping tf outta your cheeks. as you whine like a lil bitch, they become guttural, like an alpha in his rut. the carnal passion of your heavier and rougher sessions reveal a callous side to his possessive nature. dangerous how much it turns you on.

words can’t really describe how much you love his stomach, happy trail adorning his belly, and riding him offers you the opportunity to see allat that on a platter. his smirk as he tries to contain his excitement that your his and only his.

on the topic of eye contact, you’re favourite mutual position is definitely missionary - your bf adores every inch of you. how your body becomes compliant. your hole crafted to take his big dick. the way it pierces through the walls of your pussy, massaging your gumminess. he sometimes drools from how lost he can be in the experience. ‘take my cock, yhhh baby, fuckkkk.’

slowing down his jack hammering pace, he’d lean forward with his low hanging balls rutting into you agonizingly slow.

‘you like that shit, huh baby? yeah? loving on my dick so well.’ whispering as he begins to mark your collarbone. then moving upwards onto your neck, massaging your previously pummeled throat as you looked up, desperate to kiss him. he exhales into your mouth, breathing life into you that he had taken away with his hard thrusts. his softness escaped as quickly as it arose, thrusting his entire load into you.

‘shit’ you scream as he laughs hoarsely, the rasp in his voice a melting honey.

in the same position, you love his cum face. something about how his eye and nose scrunch as he pants and grunt deeply. his beard ticking your chin. it also allows him to be vulnerable with you. he would hold your head cradling it with an affection rivalled only by how sweetly his tip kisses your prostate with each lengthy thrust. when he first enters, he’s checking to see if your okay, if you want more lube. you say no. legs just above his hips, you bring your hand to stroke his beard as he concentrates on directing his dick in a way that doesn’t make him cum immediately upon re entry.

‘i love you.’ you say getting all emotional from how well he’s treating you. ‘I love you too y/n.’ he leans down for more kisses as your hand now snakes around the back of his head.

he stops, letting you catch your breath, playing with your hair and caressing your face lovingly. your arms drop immediately at the warmth of his touch. he lifts and cradles your head, a delicacy opposing his rough demeanour.

‘I fucking love you,’ your bf grunts, placing forehead kisses, panting, as he starts moving faster. your legs now wrapped tightly around his abdomen like a vice. he plants both hands behind your head, balling his fists at either side of your head to create the perfect foundation to fuck you hard. brings one of his hands to cradle your hair and to bring your head closer to his. your temples meet ensuring that you’re so close and intimate. the man brings his body up, still inside you, collects your legs together, one leg on each shoulder holding onto the thick flesh of your upper thighs, allowing you to adjust, before toppling over onto you again to get deeper inside your pussy. later, moving his hands up to behind your knees, his rugged fingertips grip the flesh of your hamstrings.

your boyfriend brings his fingers up to stroke your cheeks and remove the hair sticking to your face. he’s growling at his need to go ham, but he exercises self-control as a means to take care of you. however, what he doesn’t realise is that his painfully slow strokes transport you to a utopia of bodily ecstasy.

he ABSOLUTELY loves seeing the imprint of his girthy cock in your stomach, pressing down on it to add to your respective pleasures. and when you both reach the top of the mountain, the visual of you being completely fucked out on his huge pole, as it protrudes through your stomach which is now decorated with your own personal release, makes him wanna rail you again. and again. until you pass out or his dick becomes limp. the latter would never happen because wherever you are, that cocks gonna be UP.

aftercare is so underrated with him. in his past relationships, it was usually a hit and quit it situation - his words not mine. thus he didn’t really know what to do at first. he’s so used to hookup culture, that he never bothered. but with you, he knew he had to change; one, because he knew you’d never let him near you again if he didn’t take care of you, but mainly two, because you were his and he had a responsibility to cherish you. considering you literally couldn’t walk and body was limp, your man needed to ensure you were taken care of. though he always reassures you, you make sure to do the same. the first time you spooned him he slept like a baby. BIG BOYS NEED CUDDLES TOO Y’ALL.

he gets really apologetic, constantly asking ‘did I go to rough.’ as he massages the bruises on your hips. sometimes feels guilty that he fucks you too hard. You put his mind at ease telling him that you do like it. your bubble butt and tight hole were made to take his cock.

this still doesn’t stop him from confessing to you; ‘baby, I’m so sorry.’ he kisses your skin. ‘when I see that ass if yours jiggle, it drives me crazy, I just can’t stop.’ it often leads to him overcompensating. as the his cum seeps out of your obliterated cunt. he just wants to make you feel safe. the same safety he feels when he’s with you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

@lysanderplume

#gay #bottom male reader #smut #gay male #gay reader #male bottom #male x male #gay love #gay smut #male bottom reader #male reader #male x male fluff #bottom reader #bisexual #bi boy #gay men

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nexysworld · 2 months ago

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Summary: You accidentally call the hottest professor on campus Daddy. Total slip of the tongue—nerves, exhaustion, whatever! At least, that’s what you tell yourself. Unfortunately that same professor can't seem to let it go.

Pairing: Professor!Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader Tags: NSFW, Smut, Power Imbalance, professor x student relationship, cream pie, Unprotected Sex, Daddy Kink, spanking, mild Dubcon, Wordcount: 3.6k

Note: This is dedicated to the wonderful @dollfacefantasy. <3

𝙰𝚜𝚔 𝙱𝚘𝚡 • 𝙰𝙾3 • 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 & 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎

The idle tapping of keys and scribbling of notes was all you could focus on. Midterms had been brutal, even for the easiest classes, leaving you an overstimulated, exhausted mess. All you wanted was to go home and sleep.

With drooping eyelids, you tried to make out the equations on the board, wondering—not for the first time—why the hell you thought taking an 8 a.m. class with Professor Satoru Gojo was even remotely a good idea. The man never shut up, spouting every thought that popped into his head, whether it related to the lesson or not. Worse, he was strict as hell when it came to grading and gave out more homework than any other professor. He’d mark you for any and every technical error he could. Semantics? He was the king of them.

And yet, he was the most popular professor at the university. Students practically lined up just for the chance to talk to him.

Why?

Because he was hot.

You weren’t any better—jumping on the opportunity to take his class the moment your advisor suggested it. And yeah, he really was as attractive as everyone said. You hadn’t noticed it much at first, too focused on your studies and making sure you passed.

But now? Now, in your half-conscious state, hand going numb as it propped up your head, you found yourself zoning in on him. He was all shaggy silver hair, the unruly spikes bouncing with his overly animated movements. His blue eyes—only half-hidden behind those thick black sunglasses—that glinted with mischief. His button-up was undone just enough to be distracting, sleeves shoved past his elbows, chalk tapping against the board at an almost inhuman speed. The white undershirt clung just right, and you knew there was a lean, gym physique hiding under there.

And that voice.

That perfect blend of hubris and sarcasm made even the dullest topics weirdly entertaining. The constant teasing, the smug witticisms—they should’ve been irritating. But instead, they just sounded way too good falling off his lips.

Your imagination drifted, slipping past the appropriate as your dreary eyes began to shut on their own. Your head floated off into a fantasy…

Until his voice cut through it like a lightning strike on a sunny day.

“Alright, who wants to solve this?” Gojo’s voice rang out, irritatingly cheerful.

Silence. No one was dumb enough to volunteer this early in the morning.

“How about you, sleepyhead?” he singsonged, striding across the room until he was uncomfortably close to your vicinity.

Your half-conscious brain barely registered that someone was speaking to you, dredging up an automated response.

“Uh…what?”

Satoru grinned. “Solve the equation, silly.” He tapped the chalk against the desk a few times before pointing behind him at the board.

Your brain—still half-in fantasyland and woefully unprepared to function under pressure—short-circuited. Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out:

“Yes, Daddy.”

The silence was deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears, counting the seconds as they passed.

Someone choked on their coffee. A few others barely stifled laughter.

Gojo froze. Then, slowly, a devilish grin stretched across his face, adjusting his sunglasses allowing them to slide down the bridge of his nose.

“Oh?” His voice dripped with amusement. “Did you just—? Well, that’s a first.”

Your soul left your body.

“I—I meant Professor! Professor Gojo!”

“Nah, nah, you can’t take it back now. You sounded pretty confident.”

You wanted to die. Right here, right now. But of course, Gojo wasn’t done. He propped his chin on his hand, leaning way too close.

“You know, I always had the feeling I was the favorite Professor, but this really confirms it.”

“Please, just let me do the question,” you begged, desperate for a change of subject. You could feel the eyes of the entire class burning into you, like a spotlight had opened from the heavens. You only wished you could manifest a cartoon hole in the floor instead.

“Alright, alright,” he finally relented, straightening up and turning back toward the board. “Let’s focus, everyone. But—” he cast a glance over his shoulder, smirking, “if anyone else feels the need to work through their daddy issues or nap in my class, just know you’ll be joining your friend here for office hours. Extra credit mandatory.”

His voice was uncharacteristically serious when he spoke those last words, making your stomach flip. Then, just as quickly, he slipped right back into his usual tone. “Or maybe I’ll just refer you to my buddy in the psych department.” He tapped the chalk against the board, already writing out a new equation, having given up on the first. “I hear he loves a good case study.”

Laughter erupted.

You buried your face in your hands.

Being assigned to Gojo’s office hours as a punishment for sleeping and then subsequently calling him Daddy? That had to be illegal. Or at least against some ethical code. Then again, you were pretty sure they didn’t cover “verbal humiliation and unintentional kinks” in the student handbook, but here you were anyway, making the walk of shame to his office.

Anxiety had been twisting you apart since the incident, not giving you the chance to focus on anything the rest of the day beyond the horrible humiliation you’d be suffering the rest of your college life. The idea of now being in a confined space with the very same professor had you nauseous.

All you could do was hope—beg, pray, manifest—that he’d be professional. Maybe hand you some extracurricular worksheet or a math problem set and let you go in peace.

“Right on time,” Gojo said, leaning forward on his desk. His voice dripped with amusement, and the smile stretching across his face was so smug it bordered on evil. “I admire punctuality.”

You stifled a groan and dropped into the farthest chair across from him without looking at him. “Can we just get this over with?”

“Straight to business?” he clicked his tongue. “Cold. I thought we had something special,” he teased. “I can respect it though.” he slid a blank paper across the table along with a shitty yellow pencil—the cheap kind you’d get from the dollar store. You stared at it, before finally meeting his gaze.

“You going to make me write lines or something?”

“Not quite. I want you to write an essay on your feelings.”

“…you’re a math teacher.”

“Professor,” he corrected. “Let’s use the right titles. We wouldn’t want any casual slip-ups like earlier.”

“Ok well…I can do this at home. Can’t I just turn it in to you tomorrow?”

“Nice try,” he said, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the desk. “But this is a punishment. Office hours are mandatory when you call your professor Daddy mid-lecture and then pass out like we’re in daycare.”

His words dredged up some existential dread at the memory. “It was a slip! I was half-asleep…”

“Mmhm.” He was chuckling now. “It’s fine. I’m flattered, really. Just didn’t expect math to bring out someone’s kinky awakening. But that’s what college is for, I guess.”

You opened your mouth to quip something back at him, but the words caught in your throat. When you finally met his gaze, unhidden by the sunglasses he normally wore—you saw it. It was uncanny, unlocking some mental paranoia, like he already had your next 10 moves planned.

“Will you quit staring? It’s like you’re enjoying my humiliation. Just…let me write the essay in peace.” Normally you’d never have the nerve to be so bold with authority, but given your slip up early and the fact your humiliation couldn’t get any worse, it had you emboldened. You were white knuckling the pencil, fairly sure it would snap under your grip any moment.

“You’re not exactly making it easy not to,” he replied, tilting his head. “You’re flustered, it’s cute. Ah whoops, guess I’m not supposed to say that, am I?”

“I’m mortified, actually.”

“Even cuter.”

His words had your whole face flushed, the feverish embarrassment burning down to your shoulders. It throws you off kilter completely. Was he flirting with you? No way, it had to just be some sick way for him to mock you. The essay felt like an insurmountable task, the blank paper mocking you as well daring you to put something on the page.

You started scribbling something onto the paper, trying to keep your focus away from him—away from the tension in the air. But every time your pencil moved, you could feel his eyes on you. Watching. You made a mental note to report him after this.

“What kind of essay even is this?” you asked, unable to handle the silence. “Feelings? About what?”

“About me, obviously,” he said without missing a beat. “Or how about the shame and complicated emotions tied up in calling your professor ‘Daddy’ in front of the entire 8AM lecture hall. Plenty of material there.”

“That’s—” you started, but couldn’t even finish the sentence without dying a little inside. “Why do you keep having to bring it up? It’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” Gojo said. “I mean, I’ve had students call me all sorts of things—sensei, sir, even boss once, which was weird—but never that.” His voice dipped lower. “Never daddy.”

The pencil lead snapped under the pressure of your hand, digging a hole into the paper and leaving a mark on the wood beneath.

He whistled, clearly amused. “Wow, strong grip. You always this tense, or is it just me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late. I’m already blushing.”

Not wanting to feed into whatever the hell was happening, you decided it was in your best interest to not reply. Instead, you sharpened the pencil and focused again on the essay scribbling nonsense onto the page to at least look productive. At the very least you hoped he would just get bored enough to let you go without reading it. He could yell at you tomorrow for bullshitting, or better yet, you both could have a chat in the Dean’s office.

Unfortunately, Satoru Gojo didn’t like being ignored.

“I bet,” he started, spinning a pen between his fingers, his expensive looking wristwatch jangling with the movement, “if I asked you to say it again, you’d do it.”

Your eyes shot up to him, but he didn’t give you the chance to reply as he continued. “It’s probably just sitting right there on the tip of your tongue. Ready to slip out again, given the chance.”

“Why are you doing this? Is this how you treat all your students?”

“Nope,” he replied lazily. “Just the ones who blush so pretty when I tease them.”

You gawked at him, unable to form a single cohesive thought. You should have walked out after telling him off. Reported him the second your foot hit the doorway. Instead, you didn’t move, held in place by an invisible force.

He took that opportunity to close the distance between you by leaning over the desk, invading your personal space. Your senses processed the too-rich cologne and the mishmashed hues of white and blue that made up his form. His thumb ran over your bottom lip. “You want me to stop?”

“I uhmm…uh,” you responded, barely coherent.

“Not much of an answer. Really gotta work on those listening skills, sweetheart. Tell ya what, let’s make it easier.” He brushed his nose against your jaw, making you swallow air. “If you don’t want this, say ‘Professor.’ Loud and clear and I’ll stop. But if you do…I wanna hear you call me Daddy again.”

You couldn’t remember what it was like to speak, electricity ran through every nerve, dancing beneath your skin. Maybe a more sober version of yourself would have been smart enough to reject him. But he was so close and so tempting.

“…Daddy,” you whispered, so quiet not even a fly on the wall would’ve heard the word.

“Good girl.”

The praise made you giddy, like a pampered puppy. In a second his lips were connected to yours. They were warm, far softer than expected and a little sticky from the chapstick he always wore.

He cradled your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss as he leaned further over the desk. The forgotten essay paper slipping off the desk and falling to the floor, the pencil clattering along with it. Your fingers gripped the chair arms like a lifeline, keeping you grounded.

He pulled back just enough to let you breathe. If he was as affected as you were, it didn’t show. His lips brushed against yours again as he spoke. “Still with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, dazed, lips tingling. You wondered if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was in the silence of his office.

He chuckled, low and evil. “Then be a good girl again and go lock the door.”

Without hesitation you slipped out of the chair and despite your wobbly legs, managed to make your way over, pulling the shade over the window and clicking the press-on lock. When you turned around he was back in his chair, patting the desk in front of him. “Hop up.”

The wood was too hard and uncomfortable against your thighs, but you ignored it—far too focused on the man sitting beneath you. His slacks were tenting with his own arousal, spiky locks of snow wilder than usual.

His hands found your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your bottoms. “You look nervous. Having second thoughts?”

You shook your head quickly—too quickly.

“Words, sweetheart,” he chided.

“N-no, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine what?” He pressed, white brow raised.

“I’m fine, Daddy,” you replied, the word making you burn with embarrassment all over again.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, letting his fingers tug the fabric down. You lifted your hips and kicked off your shoes to help him with his task. The frigid air of the office felt strange against your bareness, intensifying the growing need between your legs.

“Now, just so we’re clear,” he began. “This is still punishment...so rude of you to fall asleep in my class, after I work hard to keep it interesting.” Lithe fingers found their way between your legs and before you could question what he meant, he gave a light slap to your exposed pussy.

You gasped, more in surprise than pain, your thighs instinctively pressing together. He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction as his hand pressed against your thigh to spread them again. He stood so he could catch your lips in another kiss, two fingers dragging through your folds, stopping only to rub soft circles around your clit.

“Bend over for me,” he commanded, pulling back. He helped you slide off the desk, letting you bend over the oakwood, leaving your lower half spread and exposed to him. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, or how good that agonizing sense of humiliation felt. He stood behind you, silent for a moment—long enough for the anticipation to start chewing at your nerves.

“Look at you,” he spoke, voice laced with amusement. “Didn’t even hesitate to listen.”

You couldn’t see him, but you heard the sound of his chair before feeling his warm breath on your most sensitive lips.

“Beautiful even down here,” he whistled again. You throbbed with aroused anticipation. His hand came down against your bare bottom, the sound of skin striking skin echoed in the small room before the blooming sting set in. It wasn’t unbearable, in fact, you were surprised that you liked the way it felt. Then his hand came down again, striking your other cheek, making you yelp.

“I’m not hearing any apologies,” he teased, as he pressed a kiss to your reddened skin before spanking you again.

“A-ah, I’m sorry f-for falling asleep,” you squeaked.

“Mmm I think that apology is missing something,” he added, marveling at the handprints forming against your skin.

“‘M sorry D-daddy.”

“That’s better.” He gave you one last slap, lighter than the others. “So wet already too, fuck.” He groaned, delving in and dragging his tongue against your clit, swirling the tip around it. Your brain went blank—only able to focus on the heat he was pulling from your core with the pink muscle. The sounds were wet and sloppy. He ate you out shamelessly, barely taking a break to even breathe.

His hands gripped your plush cheeks, spreading them to get more leverage.

Your toes curled, moaning as you resisted the urge to grind back against his face—somehow still trying to keep some level of self-preservation. Even still, you couldn’t remember if anyone had ever been this good, unraveling you so fast it gave you whiplash.

Two fingers pumped inside of you, pressing against that inner most sensitive spot. Between that and his mouth sucking your clit, you came undone, legs kicking out as spots peppered your vision.

“D-daddy, daddy n-no more,” you whined as he continued to tease you.

He pulled away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. By the sound of his own panting, it was clear he was now equally as worked up. The metal of his belt clanked behind you and he groaned.

“Damn, you’re seriously hot.” You heard drawers opening and closing behind you. “You on the pill, sweetheart? ‘Cause I don’t think I’ve got any condoms on me—oops.”

“Yes,” you replied, pushing yourself up. He spun you to face him, pulling you down into his lap. His button up had been discarded, leaving only the white undershirt. By his arms alone you could tell you had been right in assuming he was secretly fit, and curiously you wanted to know what else was underneath.

His cock was free, pressing against his clothed stomach—pale with an angrily flushed tip, perfectly sized—it made your mouth water with want.

Daringly, your hand came up to the cotton fabric and tugged on it. He got the hint, slipping it over his head and tossing it to the floor. He was all lean muscle and angles.

“Your turn,” he grinned, fingers hooking into your top. “Don’t leave me all exposed and bashful now.”

You lifted your arms, letting him slide your shirt off. He managed to catch your bra with it, both items tossed somewhere in the small office room. His inhumanly blue eyes were fixated on your chest, hands coming to massage them between his hands. You squirmed in his lap, earning a moan in return.

“You want me to fuck you?” He asked plainly, and the sinfulness of the words had you worked up again.

“Yes, please.”

“Ask me properly.”

“Please Daddy, I want you to fuck me.”

In a swift motion he had you flat against the desk again, his shaft rubbing through your wet folds a few times before sliding in. The stretch was delicious, making you feel full instantly. Your arms wrapped around him, legs around his waist, clinging to him as he rocked his hips into you. Every thrust was quick and rough but tantalizing. His mouth found yours as you devolved into a mess of sloppy kisses as his hips continued to meet the skin of your ass and thighs.

“Feels so good Daddy,” you moaned, head falling back. “So big…”

“Shit, you take it so well,” he praised. “Good…fucking…girl…” he groaned, changing the pace. His thrusts were faster but more shallow, no longer pulling all the way out each time—preferring to stay buried in you. When his movements lost their rhythm, he came with a shudder, sucking the skin on your collar bone, forming a purple mark.

He pulled back when he was done, catching his own breath—a sight to behold, panting above you, white bits of hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes were lidded, shadowed by thick white lashes. You wondered how many people had been lucky enough to see this.

Without thinking, you pulled him back down into a kiss. He obliged your desires, returning the affection, until there was a knock at the door.

“Satoru, are you still here this late? If so—” the sound of professor Geto’s voice rang through the door freezing you beneath the older man.

As if sensing your panic, Gojo laughed quietly and held a finger up to his lips before motioning for you to get dressed.

“Suguru, hey, still here. Guess I must’ve passed out at my desk. Hold up, give me a sec,” he replied before hastily zipping his pants, and feeling around the floor for his own shirt.

“Wait 5 minutes, once I’m out the door. Then you can sneak out past me,” he said, quickly buttoning his wrinkled shirt and batting his hair.

You nodded, half-dressed, working to pull your top back on.

Gojo made his way to the door, slipping out as he greeted his fellow professor. Before the two of them walked off, you swore you heard Geto mention something about an “interesting choice of nap partner, Satoru.” Not willing to stick around and deal with the consequences, you followed his instructions—waiting five minutes until the voices faded, then quickly gathering your things and slipping down the hall.

Your phone buzzed, an unknown number flashing on the screen. You opened the message once outside:

‘Sorry for cutting it short, but don’t worry about Suguru. He’s not about to rat me out. Just… don’t fall asleep again unless you’re begging for Daddy to give you round two. 😉’

You groaned at the text but found yourself already typing a reply. You weren’t sure how far you wanted to take this, but you definitely weren’t planning on letting it end now.

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