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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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this was 🤤🤤

No More Mr. Nice Guy • Frat!Dark!Steve x Reader

written for the beautiful, incredible @chrisevans-imagines on her special day. happy (belated) birthday my angel <3

Steve has been your best friend for years. Your sweet, innocent best friend- but he's sick of keeping his hands off you.

Content Warning: frat!steve x reader, dark!steve, slight angst, off-screen sam x reader, smut, dub!con, dom!steve x sub!reader, daddy kink, steve is a big meanie, degradation, face slapping, spitting, face fucking, mention of weed/smoking.

You aren't ashamed to be barging through your best friend's door at 1 in the morning, wearing nothing but a black mini dress with your stilettos in your hand. Steve loves you too much to judge you, and he's too nice to complain.

But when you see him sitting on the couch with another girl, you're taken aback. Steve hardly ever has girls over, let alone this late at night. You recognize the girl to be Karen Redshaw; equally as academically driven and innocent as Steve, which soothes the pang of jealousy you felt to see him hanging out with another girl. She's only a nerd.

"Y/N?" He asks with a frown, putting down the thick textbook and standing up. "What are you doing here?"

Not in the mood to put effort into being polite, you look the girl up and down. "No offence, Karen, but can you fuck off?"

Steve looks appalled at your words, as does Karen who immediately mumbles an apology before gathering up her things and rushing out the apartment.

"What the heck was that, Y/N?" Steve asks with a frown. "That was completely uncalled for."

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and push past him, taking Karen's place on the couch with a thud before slouching down. "I need you to myself tonight, puppy."

Taking his glasses off, Steve rubs the bridge of his nose, resting his free hand on his hip. "You shouldn't have spoken to Karen in that way."

"Who the fuck cares? She's just a fucking nerd!" You exclaim, before taking his hand and pouting up at him. "I said I need you, puppy. I've had such a rough night."

His gaze softens and he sits next to you, resting his arm on the back of the couch and placing his fingers on your cheek. "You've been crying. What happened, beautiful?"

You take in a deep breath and move closer to him, feeling comforted by his presence alone. Though Steve has always been a softie, and maybe even too nice at times, his huge arms and broad shoulders make him seem like a big giant. When he isn't wearing his glasses and he isn't dressed like an old man, he can even look like a complete fuckboy - but you know your Steve is way too soft to ever be anything close to a player. Unlike the guys you date.

"I had a nice dinner planned with Sam tonight," You begin with a sniffle, playing with the cuff of his shirt. "I thought- I thought maybe tonight was the night he'd ask me. To be his girlfriend and stuff, you know. But he said he didn't want anything serious. That this was just for fun, and there were no feelings involved."

Steve tuts, stroking your hair gently. "Oh, beautiful," He sighs, pity in his eyes. Slowly, his hand moves around to your shoulder, before his fingers creep up to softly wrap around your neck.

You shake your head, clinging onto his free hand. "He just used me for sex."

"Oh, honey," Steve whispers, tilting his head. "Of course he did."

Confused, you frown, a little uneasy because of the way he's looking down at you with absolutely no emotion on his face. "What? What do you mean, Steve?"

He shakes his head, almost like he's disappointed. "I have my hand around your throat and you haven't even noticed. That's how desensitized you are."

"Desensi- what?" You're utterly at a loss for words at this point.

"And just look at the way you're dressed," Steve says, pulling at the hem of your dress. "This is for a date? For a 'nice dinner,' you said? Walking around campus with your shoes in your hand?" Coldly, he brings his hand up to grip your jaw, his face flooding with malice. "You look like a fucking whore, Y/N."

You can't believe it. Your Steve; the socially awkward, shy, good boy, has just called you a whore. Your heart cracks in two and your eyes fill with tears, blurring your vision.

Steve immediately chuckles, cupping your face in his hands and stroking your cheeks. "Aw, my little baby, don't cry. It's not a bad thing - in fact, it's a fucking great thing. Wanna know why?"

Unable to speak, you remain silent and unmoving, wondering whether this is some sort of horrific nightmare.

"Because," He begins with a mischievous smirk. "The fact that you're such a little slut means you won't mind me shoving my cock down your throat."

His words send you in a daze. He notices the look of utter servitude in your eyes and smirks, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

"Stevie?" You whimper, terrified of his change in demeanor. "Puppy?"

A dark chuckle leaves his mouth and he shakes his head, his grip on your chin tightening. "Do you know how fucking hard it is to be your friend? To know that you're a dirty slut, and still have to keep my hands to myself?"

With a pout, you try to pull away from him but he's too overpowering. "You don't mean that, Steve."

"No?" He asks teasingly, squeezing your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. "You think I can ever focus on anything else when you dress like this? That I don't dream of ruining your dirty cunt every fucking night? 'Cause baby, I'd fucking ruin it."

Having had enough of his twisted words, you use all your strength to rip away from him before rushing towards the door, your bare feet hitting the cold flooring. Just as your hand touches the door handle, Steve wraps his arm around you and lifts you up into the air effortlessly, making you scream bloody murder.

"Oh, no you don't," He grumbles into your ear, using his free hand to pull your hair back. "You're not leaving. Not when I'm so close to getting what I've wanted for so. Fucking. Long. What I fucking deserve after all these years, don't you think? Being your shoulder to cry on, your best fucking friend, your motherfucking puppy?"

With a grunt, he throws you to the ground like a rag doll, making you cry out as your shoulder hits the hard floor. Steve then takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you up to your knees. The lines between the floorboards dig into your skin, making you wince.

"Stevie, the innocent little nerd, doing everything you ask of him," He seethes, rage in his eyes. "I fucking hate that pussy. I'm sick of him. Sick of jerking off while you lay in bed next to me, because I'm the only guy you can trust."

You're shaking at his feet, utterly at a loss for words. This whole time, your innocent Steve has been the devil. You feel sick.

"Well, trust in this, slut: tonight, and from here on out, I own you," He states firmly with a gravelly tone. "I've had enough of watching you whore around for every other guy on campus. I'm the only one you serve from now on. You live for my cock. You live off my cum. Do you fucking understand me, slut?"

It's as if his words have put you into a deep hypnosis. Like a robot, you nod, too scared to take your eyes off him. "Yes. I understand, Steve."

With a growl, he pulls his hand back and slaps you, making your eyes sting with tears. "Not good enough, slut," He spits, malice dripping from his tongue. "Try again for daddy."

Taking note of the name he used, you let the word imprint on your mind and tattoo itself onto your soul. "I understand, daddy."

He unbuckles his belt, satisfaction on his face. "Atta girl. Love how fucking obedient you are for me." His hand moves down to gently cup your face, making you purr as you melt into his warm touch. "You wanna make daddy happy, don't you? Wanna make daddy proud?" He asks softly, resorting back to the voice you've grown to know and love. The voice of your puppy. "Wanna make daddy love you?"

Keening for his affection, you whimper up at him, clutching his legs. "Yes, daddy."

Slowly, his eyes darken. Without warning, he takes his hand back before slapping you again, sending your head to the ground as you cry out. When you look back up at him, he's smiling, adoration in his eyes. "Aww. Such a good little girl," He mumbles with a pitiful look. "So desperate for my attention. For my approval."

You hum, nodding eagerly. Nothing but making him happy matters to you, and he knows it. He loves it.

"Open that whore mouth for me," Steve orders you, pulling down his zipper. You're still too dazed to do anything, making his eyes narrow. "Don't make daddy ask twice."

Immediately, you part your lips, and you barely have the time to take in a breath before he's pushing his hard, thick cock into your mouth, filling it up as his tip hits the back of your throat. You gag, the sound of you choking combined with the way your eyes are tearing up making Steve groan.

"Oh, God," He growls as his shaft slides over your warm tongue. Unable to hold back, Steve takes hold of your head and begins fucking your face mercilessly. "That's it. You're so good at taking my cock, such a good little slut."

The tears stream down your cheeks as you do your best to keep up with his pace, already feeling your throat grow sore from his invasion. You feel dizzy at the lack of oxygen, entirely taken by Steve and his all-consuming aura.

Suddenly, he pulls his cock out of your mouth before squeezing your cheeks in his hand and bending down. He tilts your head back before spitting onto your face, making your pussy throb.

"Daddy's dirty little slut," Steve coos, running a hand through your hair. "Suck on my fucking balls."

You quickly reach forward with his spit dripping down your cheek, wrapping your lips around his balls and sucking them. His dick rests on your face, and Steve reaches into his back pocket to pull out his phone. You see the flash go off as he takes a picture, making you feel electric. He thinks you look gorgeous like this, and your heart is swelling. Daddy's happy with you.

Steve saves the picture as his lockscreen wallpaper, before throwing his phone onto the couch. He lets out a groan as you suck his balls harder, loving the feeling of his heavy cock sitting on your face. With urgency, he grabs the base of his dick and slides it back into your mouth, where it belongs. Without wasting a second, he begins pummelling in and out of your throat again, getting high off the sound of your choking. You hollow your cheeks around him, making him suck in a breath.

"Fuck, princess," Steve groans, throwing his head back in utter delight. "Doing so well for daddy."

His praise motivates you to keep going, your hands moving up to hold onto his thighs. Steve quickens his pace, thrusting harder, his cock twitching against your tongue.

He moans loudly, settling his cock deep into your throat just as his hot cum shoots out, his hips stuttering as his balls press to your chin. "Swallow it all, slut," Steve orders you darkly, keeping your head in his grip to prevent you from moving back. "Don't you dare even waste a single fucking drop of daddy's cum."

You keep your wide eyes on him, swallowing his seed. He lets out some grunts, thrusting a few more times, riding out his high. Once he's spent, he pulls out, dragging a string of saliva out with his cock. He lets go of your face and you fall back without him holding you, exhausted.

Steve puts his softening cock back into his pants, breathing heavily as he stares down at you. "Good job, princess," He utters, running his hand through his hair with a sigh.

Craving his physical touch, you crawl forward, pawing at his leg. "Daddy," You whimper, yearning for some affection.

His face is expressionless, his eyes cold. To your dismay, he takes a step back, seemingly having lost all interest in you. "Clean yourself up. I need a fucking joint."

You sit there, shocked into silence. Your Stevie, your puppy, just abused and came down your throat and is now rolling up a fucking blunt. Who the fuck is he?

Steve falls onto the couch, lighting up the cigarette and shooting you a wink. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

a/n: i no longer use a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i post 🥰❤

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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🤤🤤 this was PERFECT

#2 for dads best friend imagine 😉

Her family are going on vacation and they invite Bucky along.

There are two hotel rooms, one for her parents and one for her and Bucky because her dad trusts him of course, so what happens when they get to the room and realize there’s only one bed and a lot of tension between them?

The Vacation

This is the most slow burn I have ever written 🥵 I swear I’ve been at this for days but I really love how it turned out!! Thank you all for the love on #1 I’m so glad to see you all enjoying this series as much as I’m enjoying writing it!! 💗

This is a standalone fic but #1 is here!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: Your father hasn’t noticed the tension that’s been building between you and his best friend Bucky. How much self control do you have when you’re sharing a bed on vacation?

Warnings: Smut, riding, grinding, protected sex, age gap (Bucky is in his 40’s, reader is in her 20’s), cream pie, sexual tension, needy Bucky, mutual masterbation, dad’s best friend Bucky, pet names, praise kink, lil bit of degradation, breakup mention, unsafe sun exposure (use sunscreen besties! Protecc that skin)

Minors, do not interact

Your poor, poor father. How could one man be so trusting and have his trust so misplaced?

But then again, he had no reason to doubt either of you. Bucky Barnes was your dad’s lifelong best friend, someone he had known even longer than he had known your mother.

And you were his daughter. His sweet, chaste, innocent little girl who couldn’t possibly harbour any feelings for Bucky, a man almost twice your age.

The painful truth boiled down to the fact that your father hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed anything. Not the glances you and Bucky shared over the dinner table when he came over, nor the way you watched Bucky while he worked out, hot and sweaty, muscle bulging under taut, tanned skin.

You could’ve called your infatuation a harmless crush, but your father also hadn’t noticed how Bucky watched you back. You’d seen him taking in the sight of you in your little shorts, lounging in your garden without a care in the world, baking under the hot sun. You looked like a picture straight out of a sexy magazine or a naughty calendar he would’ve hung up in his college dorm room but you weren’t. You were a living, breathing, beautiful young woman, stretched out in front of him, looking so breathtaking it made him twitch in his jeans.

So he watched. Who could blame him? You watched too. It wasn’t creepy or unwanted, this was just the dance the two of you had become used to. Dangling yourself the other in the hopes that one of you would eventually snap. Give in to temptation. You were in your 20s now, nothing made you strictly off limits, except the fact you absolutely shouldn’t want each other.

You weren’t even all that excited for the vacation until you had heard Bucky would be coming, truth be told.

In all honesty, hearing Bucky was going was all that inspired you to agree in the first place.

How bad could it be? A week with your parents and Bucky in some All Inclusive resort somewhere in the sun.

You knew Bucky’s eyes would be on you, his gaze would be hungry, drinking you in like he owned you, fists clenched, holding himself back from taking what he really wanted. What you really wanted to give to him. Oh, it would be interesting by the end of the week. That is, if you both lasted that long.

“Hope you packed your swimsuit, honey.” Bucky teased quietly, his voice low and sultry, as the four of you made your way past the pool in the blistering, boarder line oppressive heat to the hotel reception area. He had been kind enough to carry your bag, as well as his own, eyes sparkling with mischief in the summer sun while families splashed happily in the water.

“Oh shit! I think I forgot it!” You gasped dramatically, clearly messing with him.

“Oh yeah? That would be a shame.” Did that confident, sexy drawl count as flirting? Or was it just more friendly banter? More of the same. Little notions planted in your head, leading to thoughts you couldn’t shake.

“If you wanna see me naked, you only gotta ask.” Your words were hardly more than a whisper. Bucky didn’t retort so you assumed he’d missed it.

The reception area was quiet, cooler than outside given that they had the air conditioning cranked up, your father chatting at the desk while your mother and Bucky sat beside you in the lobby.

“Okay so the hotel is running behind and checkin isn’t for another few hours. Seems they’re really busy this week but that’s okay! We can get changed and hit the pool, that nice lady at reception offered to keep our bags safe.” Your dad was in full blown holiday mode. Nothing could bother him apparently, pressing a kiss to your mom’s forehead, his smile never faltering. Despite how tired you were from the journey, the thought of heading down to the pool to sun yourself really did sound quite appealing, especially with your family in such great spirits.

So that was it decided, you got your favourite tiny little bikini fished out from your bag, along with a towel and some UV protect oil, running off to the bathroom to change.

The four of you hit the pool together, managing to find two free sun loungers beside each other.

Bucky felt like he was holding his breath in the crisp heat, hardly even daring to breathe. Seeing you with so little on while feeling so damn exposed in only his swim trunks was getting to him. Badly. Your body was a work of art in his eyes, no matter whether you saw it or not.

God he longed to be buried between your thighs, kissing at the soft skin, working you up until he was able to slip a finger into what would undoubtedly be the sweetest pussy he had ever tasted but he couldn’t afford to let himself dwell on that thought for too long, wondering instead if this vacation had actually been a huge mistake on his part.

You were finding yourself in the same, rapidly sinking boat, not even knowing where to look now that Bucky was wearing so little, feeling like heat was just radiating off his body. He was in fantastic shape, there wasn’t a single part of his body where the muscles were less defined than the rest. A real testament to his resolve, his patience and his dedication in the gym.

But then your parents bid their goodbyes, offering to be the first to dip in the pool and shit, you were alone together.

“Well honey, jus’ you and I now.” He smiled, hands tucked under his head, leaning back at a full stretch on the creaking plastic chair beneath him.

“Looks like it.” You laughed quietly, taking a seat beside him. Shifting your hair you uncapped the bottle of UV protecting oil.

Bucky’s heart leapt in panic. Shit. You weren’t actually going to oil yourself up right in front of him? But yes, you damn well were, applying some first to your arms, then down your legs, over your tummy and chest and he’d be damned if he wasn’t already half hard, stealing glances at you behind his sunglasses. Perky tits, oiled up and delicious, whole body slick and begging to be worshipped but then you started on your own ass.

Bucky told himself it wasn’t obvious. That you couldn’t possibly have heard the groan that slipped from him while you massaged oil onto your own ass cheeks, moving the skimpy little bikini up to ensure you covered as much of your skin as possible, right in front of his face.

“You wanna do me a favour.” You asked, turning around and biting your bottom lip. You could feel his eyes on you, even though he thought you couldn’t possibly have noticed behind the tinted glasses.

“Sure honey, what’d’ya need?”

“Do my back for me, would you?” Alarm bells rang in his head but clearly, no one had told his dick this was a bad idea. He could feel himself hardening just at the thought. He’d never actually touched you like that before but he sure wasn’t letting an opportunity like that pass him by.

Before he could even respond, you had plonked yourself down on his sun lounger, his legs shifted out of the way so you could nestle between them and it was now or never. He shuffled up to bracket your legs in his, strong, thick thighs lined up beside yours, your back practically pressed to his chest.

The little bottle of oil was passed back into his hand.

‘Please God, no’ seemed to be the only coherent thought Bucky could manage when you reached behind you, tugging on the little string of the bow holding your bikini together until it fucking unravelled. The cups were still held against your skin by your hands but that added security of the straps was now gone.

“Just making sure you don’t miss anywhere.” You knew exactly what you had done and although Bucky couldn’t see you, your bottom lip was still being nibbled on by your teeth.

You thought you had pushed him too far, thought that maybe this last request was just a little too much. Maybe he wasn’t actually into you like you were into him. What if this had all been some terrible misjudgement and Bucky was just being friendly these past few months.

But then the cap popped once more and you breathed a sigh of relief, Bucky shuffling behind you, rubbing the oil between his hands to warm it up.

And then his huge hands landed on your skin, beginning to spread the slick, slippy substance over the expanse of your back. A tiny moan escaped you at just how good his hands felt, sliding first over your shoulders and the back of your neck, oil dripping down over your spine and landing on your sweet little ass.

“Couldn’t’a brought your boyfriend? He should be doin’ this shit for you.” Bucky was doing his best to sound agitated, he really really tried but nothing could’ve hid his growing arousal, no matter how far back he tried to shuffle.

“Don’t have a boyfriend Bucky. Thought dad told you? We broke up a while ago.” Bucky hated how his first thought was overwhelming excitement followed quickly by a sinking feeling, recognising how badly he wanted this. How much he needed to get this out of his system. But how do you have a one night stand with your best friend’s daughter? Especially if you felt the way he imagined you would.

“Oh God angel, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.” How had he managed to even convince himself that he was being sincere but deep down he’d been hoping you two wouldn’t last. He wasn’t right for you. Anyone could see that.

“Don’t worry Buck, I’m over it.” You laughed happily, chewing on your lip when Bucky’s hands moved lower down your back. Bucky chuckled in response, hot breath hitting the back of your neck, sending a tingle down your spine.

“Well I’m glad to hear that.” He grinned. Did that count as flirting? And how often were you going to ask yourself if Bucky was flirting over the course of the vacation.

“Gotta say, I’ve never oiled a beautiful woman up like this before. Not with innocent intentions anyway.” Shit, did he really just say that?

“And why do you only have innocent intentions?” Shit, did you really just say that? Somehow this was all so much easier when you didn’t have to look him in the eye and say it. He hands never ceased, working oil into your skin like there was nothing he would rather be doing.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be right to have any other intentions angel. You’re too young for me, far too sweet. And your dad would probably kill me in my sleep.” He breathed out a little laugh, knowing your dad definitely would kill him.

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it though.” His voice was so quiet you almost missed it. Want shot through your body, making you tingle pleasantly in the burning sun, a throb settling between your legs.

“You don’t mean th-“ you began, more flustered than ever before you were interrupted by your parents making their way back from the pool towards you, dripping wet and laughing heartily together.

“Meant every word baby.” Bucky whispered sweetly, taking the straps of your bikini and tying it back up quickly before your parents reached you, shuffling onto the free sun lounger.

Bucky’s words sunk in while you lounged in the hot sun, your body not taking the time to unwind and relax. How could you with Bucky offering you the one thing you had dreamt of most since shortly after you turned 18? And here he was, lying two feet away, wearing practically nothing.

It didn’t take long for the receptionist to fetch you, letting you know the rooms were ready so the four of you gathered up quickly, following after her.

“These two are yours.” She smiled happily, handing over the room keys to your father who opened the first door finding a double bed inside. The second room had the same. Shit.

“I’m so sorry, we needed one of the rooms with two single beds.” Your father had turned to talk to the receptionist but she was already gone.

“It’s okay I guess, I’ll room with Bucky.” Your dad offered.

“I’m not splitting you and your wife up on vacation for God’s sake. I’ll take the bath. Won’t make a difference to me.” Bucky was so damn nonchalant, setting his bag through the door before there was a chance for any more argument. Shit, this just kept getting better and better.

————

Dinner was lovely, the evening heat keeping you warm in your cute little dress, all four of you laughing and reminiscing happily together over a beautifully cooked meal.

You and Bucky left early, opting for a shower and an early night after a long day of travelling and your parents didn’t even question it. Thank god for that misplaced trust.

“You take the first shower sweetheart, I don’t mind.” Bucky offered happily, leaping onto the bed, lying back at full stretch. You weren’t going to argue, fishing out your pyjamas and a towel before heading into the bathroom, the door locking behind you.

The cold water felt like heaven on your skin, hoping it would wash away all the terribly inappropriate thoughts you were harbouring for the man just outside the door. Thoughts of him joining you, his chest to your back, his hands running over your body, fingernails digging in, desperate for purchase in your soft skin, rutting into you gently. You couldn’t think like that. You shouldn’t. You wouldn’t make it through the week if you did.

Turning the shower off, you stepped out and dried quickly, pulling your little thin cotton pyjamas on before brushing through your hair.

“Your turn Buck.” You smiled quietly, stepping out, chuckling at how he bounced off the bed and into the bathroom past you.

He seemed to take ages, far longer than you did but when he finally emerged, holy shit. He hadn’t dried himself at all, broad, toned chest and shoulders glistening with dripping beads of water, hair messy and abs tight. It did nothing at all to stifle the need growing between your legs. His towel was sitting so low on his narrow hips you thought you might just melt.

“You’re starin’ honey.” Bucky laughed cheekily, rummaging in his bag for some damn underwear. “It’s not like I’m wearing any less than you were earlier. That little bikini didn’t leave much to the imagination.” It was starting already.

“Coulda taken it off for you if you wanted.” You offered, his mouth watering at the thought. “Coulda oiled all of me up. Your hands felt so good.” You shouldn’t have been encouraging this but here you were. The heat had got to you. That was it. Sunstroke maybe? Either way, you shouldn’t have been this forward so soon.

“Careful honey, we’re stuck in this room together for a week. You don’t wanna know how good my hands could make you feel.” The worst part was, you didn’t doubt Bucky could back his confidence up.

“And what if I did?” You asked quietly, his head pulling from his bag to look at you.

“Wouldn’t be right honey. Your parents are next door.” Was that really his only objection?

“Guess you’re right Buck.”

————

The evening was more relaxed after that, Bucky dressed in a thin T-shirt and boxers, busying himself on his phone while you watched some mindless hotel TV.

At around 10, Bucky pulled himself up, taking his pillows with him.

“What are you doing?” You laughed incredulously.

“Jus’ makin’ up the bath angel, ‘s been a long day.” He did sound drained, exhausted between the travelling and the excessive heat.

“Bucky don’t be silly, you’re not breaking your back in the bath. Sleep in the bed. It’ll be fine.” He wasn’t even sure if he could trust himself. Could he really sleep beside you and not give in to the temptation? But his body was sore, achy and in need of somewhere comfortable to sleep so he gave in without argument.

You lay in silence when the lights turned off, side by side, staring at the ceiling.

“So goddamn warm.” Bucky sighed softly after a few moments.

“So warm.” You agreed. “If you wanna sleep naked, I won’t stop you.” You were only teasing but when he pulled his shirt off your heart fluttered.

“I’ll take the rest off if you do. Won’t look, promise. Jus’ cant sleep in this heat.” You could tell his head was turned towards you despite it being dark, eyes probably trained on you.

“Yeah, sounds fair.” You were gasping for it. You couldn’t help how your pussy throbbed just at the thought of being naked in bed beside Bucky.

Wordlessly, you both undressed, skimpy bed clothes discarded.

“Fuck honey, I don’t think the heat was the problem.” Bucky practically groaned after a few minutes of trying to get comfy. “I’m gonna have to go to the bath, ‘m sorry, this is so wrong.” He pulled himself up, making sure the duvet still covered him, hands running over his face in an effort to calm down.

“What’s wrong Buck?” You asked quietly, leaning over to turn on the little bedside light, keeping yourself covered.

“ ‘m fuckin’ hard. Can’t… can’t sleep beside you like this, not when the only thought in my head is burying myself deep in your little pussy.” He sounded boarder-line distraught. The thoughts had been in his head too long.

“Don’t go.” You whispered, noticing that he turned around to look at you. “I’ll take care of it for you, you don’t need to go.”

“Baby, don’t offer me shit like that. No idea how bad I want it.” You could see his eyes flitting over your face in the dim light. Studying you. Searching for any indication you weren’t serious.

“We don’t need to have sex, jus’ lemme take care of it for you.” How could he say no? Leaning back on bed, his head hit the pillow with a soft crinkle of the sheets.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked quietly, pressing a little kiss to your forehead, loving how you hummed your approval. Your hands wandered, meeting the soft, hairy skin of his thighs, drifting upwards until they met Bucky’s length. The tiny groan that left Bucky sent a shiver running through your body, delicious little grunts escaping him as you stroked him from base to tip, flicking your wrist to concentrate on his tip.

“Oh Jesus fuckin’ -ah- don’t know who taught you that angel but I gotta thank ‘em some day.” Bucky’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, a lazy smile plastered on his beautiful face while your tiny hand continued.

“Fuck sugar, you mind if I watch? Can’t miss this.” His cheeks were blazing, eyes burning with lust and how could you say no? After your little nod, Bucky pulled the covers back, exposing his aching cock in your hand.

“Looks good there doesn’t it? Looks even bigger in my tiny hand than it does in yours.” Your teasing had him groaning, trying to drink in every little squeeze and stroke without so much as blinking. He didn’t want to miss a single second.

“Fuck, feels so good. This isn’t fair angel, I’m havin’ all the fun.” His eyes reluctantly tore themselves away from your hand, looking instead into your eyes.

“Then touch me Buck.” Such a simple command almost made him cum on the spot. Your voice was far too innocent, hearing you finally ask for something he had waited so long for.

He couldn’t waste a second, fingers itching to touch you exactly how he had longed to earlier. Oh fuck. Earlier. The thought of your oiled up skin, slick and shiny and so begging to be kissed. The reason this had all started.

It didn’t take him long for his fingers to find the apex of your thighs, your hand never relenting on his cock. A heavy gasp dragged from both of your throats just feeling how wet you were. Pretty thighs coated with evidence of your lust and that’s when Bucky lost it completely.

“Oh baby, you need me that badly already? You even know how wet you are? Fuck, bet I’ve got your tight little cunt throbbin’ don’t I? Thought I was horny but damn, you’re more worked up than I thought. Dumb little girl just loves playin’ with a big cock so much you’re practically creamin’ on my fingers.” You weren’t sure if his words were making your insides twist or if it was the way his fingers found your clit effortlessly, even with your body still covered by the sheets. Tight, rough circles rubbed over your sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping further, sinking into your hole in one fluid motion.

“Ah Buck, Jesus.” Somehow through your own pleasure, you had the capacity to keep stroking him, precum beading nicely on his tip, beginning to run down his swollen head.

“God, you’re so tight, grippin’ my fingers. How the fuck’m I s’pposed to sleep this week knowin’ I’m sleepin’ beside the best pussy I’m not even gonna getta feel.”

“Oh Bucky, please. I’m close. So close.” You couldn’t help rolling closer towards him, one leg hitched over the top of his so you’d be more comfortable.

“Hardly even touched you angel, can’t believe a sweet little thing like you comes apart so easily. Would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so damn hot for me. Makin’ you cum in just a few minutes. Anyone ever done that for you before baby?” His gruff little whisper you painfully sexy, watching your face now instead of your hand on his cock.

“N-no Buck. Haven’t even cum this fast by myself before, fuck, rub my clit again, please.” You were whining, back arching off the bed and trying to fuck yourself down on his fingers all at once.

“Love when a woman isn’t scared to ask for what she wants.” His little chuckle was so sexy but he did as you asked, his fingers slipping from you, despite how your body tried to pull him back in. In less than a second, they were back on your clit, the little flicks of his fingertips over your sensitive bundle of nerves making you mewl and whimper. That knot tightening in your tummy couldn’t take much more, the pressure building, your walls clenching around nothing until oh.

Your body released, spasming and twitching, Bucky’s free hand clapped over your mouth to silence your filthy cries of pleasure.

“Baby you make such pretty fuckin’ noises when you cum but your parents are right next door. Can’t get caught. As much as I want this whole damn resort to know who’s makin’ this pretty pussy gush like that.”

Your orgasm subsided but the fire inside you hadn’t. Bucky removed his hand and almost the second he did you were on him, your lips on his for the first time, hot and electric. His hands grabbed at you the way he had always imagined they would. Eventually they settled on your hips, pulling you on top to straddle him, wet, aching core meeting his throbbing length. Both of you hissed at the contact.

“You still need more baby? That pretty pussy not had enough yet? You know we shouldn’t do this angel. Helpin’ each other out is one thing but I don’t know if we can come back from havin’ sex.” Shit, he was right. How could you possibly look at him again if you had sex now? How would your family dinners ever be the same again? How would you ever find someone that filled you the way you knew he could?

“Okay…. No sex. Just lemme…” You both needed something and this would just have to do. Reaching between your bodies, you pressed his cock flat to his tummy, settling yourself on top of the length, your slick folds parted so he was rubbing against the silkiest part of your core, not letting him inside, just using his girth to get yourself off.

“Oh, oh what the fuck. How does that feel so good.” Bucky was amazed, his body almost tricking itself into thinking he was inside you.

“Ah that’s perfect, right fucking there.” Your whimper came out breathy and blissed out, the head of his cock nudging your clit each time you rocked on him and damn, you hadn’t expected it to feel so breathtaking.

Speeding up, you could feel his cock drag over your hole with each little grind of your hips and shit, everything was perfect until the head started to catch on the rim of your little hole, your body begging for him to fill you. Bucky was lost in the feeling, one hand gripping your hips, the other gripping the sheets, focusing on not blowing his load too soon.

“You feel that Buck? Fuck, you’re so close to bein’ inside me, can feel my pussy trying to pull you in.” Every little catch of his head on the rim of your hole was fresh torture. “Fuck it Buck, I can’t. Need you ‘nside me.” Your whimpers were killing him.

“Ahh, baby we can’t. Please, I won’t be able to handle it.” You weren’t sure how Bucky had been reduced to such a mess but in truth, you weren’t far behind him. “Don’t wanna hurt you, I won’t be able to hold back, fuck, shit, ‘m almost inside you. Baby please.” Bucky didn’t know whether to stop this now or just thrust up into you. One grind of his hips would solve it all, he could be buried to the hilt inside you within a second if he could just let himself give in.

On the next grind, the drag of your rim on his head was just unbearable, the slick tip of his cock slipping in, barely more than an inch, both of you gasping at once.

“Oh yes, fuck baby, yes,” Bucky’s eyes were rolling back in his head, body almost trembling feeling the tight wet clench of your walls around him, taking all of him in one movement.

“Bucky, Bucky, ah please.” You couldn’t even hold it together anymore.

“Baby, you’re made for me, shit, tightest pussy I’ve ever felt.” He groaned so loudly before you lifted yourself up, falling back down quickly in a way that had you both crying out, keening against each other.

Your rhythm was slow and sensual, his cock spearing that sweet spot inside you with every fall of your hips.

“I can’t baby, ‘m not gonna last. You think you could cum for me, please baby.” He was so gone, hardly able to focus, determined to make you cum before he had to pull out. Your nod sent his two fingers back to your clit, rubbing with ease while you kept fucking him, building the uncontrollable need inside you back up again.

“Hurry up baby, ‘m gonna cum.” His little groan nearly finished you then and there but you weren’t just ready yet.

“Bucky please, jus’ cum in me. Needa feel it.” Your little plea shook him to his core, balls emptying into you with a loud cry. The force of Bucky’s release encouraged your own, his fingers not relenting on your abused clit, dragging you over the edge into blinding pleasure with a high cry.

“Oh God baby, shouldn’t’a cum in you. I’m so sorry, holy shit.” Bucky had finally come to his senses, helping you off him and onto the bed, ready to start Googling for a pharmacy to get the morning after pill.

“Bucky relax, I’m protected.” Your laugh calmed him deep in his soul, relief washing over his face when he realised you weren’t actually in trouble.

“Thank god.” He gasped. “Your dad would kill me.”

Taglist:

@justatirednightowl @babebr @stucky-my-ship @allydrabbles @white-wolves-and-grey-skies @harrysthiccthighss @sebsbrokentoe @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @littlecanadianlani @badgirlwolfy @igotmajordaddyissues @baebee35

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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#tw: miss minutes #loki #loki series #loki spoilers #sylvie

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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warnings: 18+ only. professor!Andy Barber. teacher/student relationship. spanking. extremely rough oral sex. asphyxiation. dub con if you squint. lewdness in a lecture hall.

word count: 1,254

author’s note: inspired by the Newsweek photos we were all affected by. 💙

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform.

“You know what happens when you’re late for class.” His disapproving tone makes your thighs press together desperate to quell the ache that’s been teasing you the past hour.

You hang your head low, pretending to show remorse even though you arrived late wanting to endure his wrath.

The hard stare he sent your way made your belly tumble but you played it cool, giving him a shit eating grin as you parked in an empty seat and got your notebook out. His bearded jaw twitched with annoyance before he spoke, “Y/N, I’ll see you after class.”

Andy shoves you over his desk making you squeal in surprise. His hands slot over your hips as his nails bite into the softness that lays there. His head nuzzles yours, his words but a menacing whisper at your ear, “I’m gonna make sure you cry this time. Whether from pain or pleasure, I want some tears.”

In a flash, your skirt is flipped over your hips and your soaked panties are cuffs around your ankles keeping you locked in place. His fingers trail over the exposed skin of your ass before landing at the heated juncture of your thighs. His thumb tracing up and down your sopping petals making you whimper.

“You play the good girl so well; you’ve got everyone fooled. Expect me.”

Just then a hard smack lands on your bottom. You bite back a yelp as he rains down blow after powerful blow to your sensitive skin making your eyes water from the pain.

“As much as you pretend to dislike my punishment, your body betrays you.” You feel his digits curl inside your channel, rubbing over the spots only he could find. Obscene squelching noises echo in the empty lecture hall that only moments ago were filled with students.

His fingers tease you to the brink as the blossoming pain from your ass drives you head on towards your peak. Then suddenly all sensations ceased.

Shiny fingers glistening with your arousal paint your lips crudely and he smears your essence over your tongue as his thick fingers worm their way inside your mouth. You can’t help but mewl around the digits as they stuff you full.

“It’s going to be hard to sit the next few days but I needed to make it stick.” He says as he slides his fingers in and out of your lips before shocking you with a rather harsh spank that makes you jolt forward, choking you on his fingers.

“Oh, Honey, are my fingers too much for you?” he feigns concern with an evil grin. “Looks like I’ll have to train that slutty mouth of yours to take my cock just how I like.”

Your teeth nip at his knuckles as he pushes his fingers further down your throat and it makes your belly heave in response. You whine around him, tongue swirling and diving between his digits as he fucks your mouth with his hand.

“Ah ah, shhh, wanna make sure your throat ready for my cock.”

A sharp smack to your ass causes his fingers to shove further down your gullet which convulses under his assault. The sinful groan that meets your ears spurs you on even though your belly somersaults.

“Fuck yes, that’s just what I want.” He growls from his dominating stance over you.

Suddenly, his fingers are torn from your lips and you’re given a moment to catch your breath. You hear a buckle and feel fingers in your hair before his hard length is pressing between your swollen lips.

“You gonna do just what I told you? Be my good girl and let me fuck your throat?” He holds your head steady as he fucks into your mouth with shallow thrusts, letting you get used to his well-endowed cock that’s forcing your lips apart.

The salty length of him slides over your taste buds and makes your mouth water with every slow push. Andy grits his teeth, already on the edge as he watches you drool over his length, “Ready to make amends, Kitten?”

You garble out a sloppy “Yes” as more spit slides out the corners of your lips. His fingers grace your slick jaw line holding your gaze to his, “Once I start, I’m not stopping until I come down your throat.”

Your heart plummets into your belly and your core ignites as he grabs the back of your head and thrusts his entire length into your mouth. The first shove makes your body heave as his crown tickles your tonsils, “Relax.”

His hips withdraw allowing you a breath before he’s diving back into your warmth. He nudges further, sliding down the top of your throat with a hearty growl. It makes your body seize as your air is cut off, your arms grabbing onto his muscular thighs as he relents and pulls his cock from the confines of your canal.

“God damn, that feels amazing.” He beams as he holds the base of his cock staving off his orgasm. “You’re doing so well, Kitten.” He praises as you stare up at him with watery eyes. “Let me back in, come on.” Your lip trembles but you do as his says.

The weight of him is heavy on your tongue as he slides home. He thrusts past your tonsils and down your gullet in one go. “Fuck.”

His hips start a steady rhythm that makes your jaw ache and your throat burns as he takes his pleasure from you. His hand moves down to your neck feeling the slight bump of his girth as it strains your muscles.

Andy halts his thrust keeping himself buried in the safety of your channel as he looks down at you with an ominous stare. Your blood beats against your skull from lack of air as you smack your hand against his hip.

He snatches your hand and places it over your skin forcing you to feel him from the outside. “This is now the second hole of yours I’ve claimed.” His hips retreat allowing you a frantic breath before it’s cut off.

You vibrate his length, desperate for air as he spreads you open again, “Once I’ve fucked your ass, you’re mine. In every sense of the word.”

His hips buck into your throat causing you to gag heavily, “You’re okay, you’re okay.” He coos as your body shakes from his severe treatment. You push against his hips but the hold on your head was solid as his cock swells and ravages your gullet.

With a gravelly groan Andy fills your belly with thick ropes of white, holding your nose against his skin as you drool around the base of him. As the last of his spend spilled into your stomach he slips from your lips causing you to cough and sputter dragging in ragged, uneasy breaths.

“You gonna be late for my class again?” he asks, pinching your chin between his fingers. His gaze is light airing on the side of playful, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“No, Professor.”

“Good girl.” He helps clean your chin as you shuffle back into your panties. The cooled arousal sticks to your searing mound making you wince from the contact wishing you’d gotten off as well.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you tonight.” He pulls you into a heated kiss only to break it off just as the door opens and a swarm of students fills the hall.

“Thanks for the lesson, Professor.” You call out, swaying your hips as you leave the room heading to your next class.

#andy barber #andy barber smut #professor!andy

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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A little calm 🙏

#stevebucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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innocence lost | b.b

pairing : bucky barnes x reader, innocent!bucky, virgin!bucky

summary : high school au, you show bucky all the things he doesn’t know about

word count : 2.2k

warnings : 18+ ONLY ! smut, loss of virginity, riding, oral (m recieving), unprotected sex, drinking, swearing

Everyone knew Bucky was head over heels for you. So were most of the boys in your town. It was unanimously agreed you were the most beautiful girl in town, and you could have your pick of any boy to be your future husband.

Bucky had heard all the rumours about you. Kissing boys behind the school, losing it to the captain of the football team (who you started dating afterwards), drunken hookups with all kinds of boys. He didn’t care if they were true or not: nothing would change his feelings for you. The only problem was, he’d never actually spoken to you. Just admired from afar.

He wasn’t the kind of person you hung out with. The girls in your school were jealous of how much the boys liked you, and either hated you or tried to be your friend in the hopes of being as popular with the boys as you were.

Once the news spread that you and Jack, the captain of the football team, had broken up, Bucky finally plucked up the courage to approach you. After all, senior year was almost over and he still hadn’t spoken to you once.

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#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #buck barnes x reader #mcu #mcu smut #marvel #marvel smut #the winter solider imagine

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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🤤🤤

U & Ur Hand

Summary: All alone one night, Steve’s thoughts wander.

Characters: Steve x F!Reader.

Words: 489.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, male masturbation, mentions of oral sex (male receiving), titty fucking and deep throating, 18+.

A/N: Inspired by the tags made by @sapphirescrolls on this post (which has since been deleted), but a little bug nestled in my brain and wouldn’t leave. This is the end result. Not beta’ed so all errors, spelling mistakes and general bullshit are entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Subscribe to Patreon and get access to fics, just like this one, two weeks before Tumblr for as little as $3.

Steve gently tugs on his shaft, thumb dragging lazy circles over the dome of his cock. He lets out a little airy gasp at the contact, imagining… wishing it was your tongue swirling across his slit.

He can see you vividly— the way your lips puff and swell as you suck the tip gently before his cock disappears greedily into your mouth like it’s a damn Tootsie Pop. His grip tightens around his length, pumping harder each time he twists down towards the base. When he slides his hand back up, he gives the head a little squeeze, small spurts of pre-cum dribbling out and onto his thick fingers.

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#steve rogers #steve rogers smut

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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hello???? this was perfect 🤤😩

The text post about “ your fav is fucking his fist rn thinking of you” please lord let it be for Steve ( I’m. Late I know)

a/n: heheh it is :) 1.5k words of male masturbation ayyye. also, if you have not already, go check out @heavenbarnes’ ficlet, which haunts me everyday. please stop reading if you are not 18+

slow hands*

Steve jerks off— a lot.

Even before the serum, when he was just any other violently hormonal, grass-fed, free-range human boy, instinct couldn’t be denied. Even after a long period of reflection during his catechism days, he wasn’t able to make heads or tales out of why any creator might give two shits about whether or not Steve fucks his hand.

Now as a whopping 200-pound slab of grade-A, laboratory-engineered, serum-enhanced super-soldier, if he doesn’t pump one out every twenty-four hours, it’s hard to focus on much else. All of that unbridled testosterone crawls right up behind his eyes and his brain fizzles at the edges, agitated like an animal in a cage.

So, although it’s mostly pleasure, it’s also necessity.

He knows that it’s best before bed because early mornings or while showering requires working within the constraints of a ticking clock; if he’s got a packed schedule and needs a quick rub, fine, but not his favorite.

He knows that he likes certain activities, and if he’s looking at porn, specific categories and maybe a few performers will fit a niche—but sometimes he’ll spiral into a hundred other videos and he’s stayed up one (or five) too many nights doing that.

More than anything, Steve knows nothing beats his imagination, and he knows the best lies you can tell are ones with a bit of truth attached to them.

So, he plays a little game.

He thinks about you.

Cheeky you, who’s always teasing him about taking life too seriously. So prim and proper, Steve, you purr, always Mr. Punctual. Aren’t you tired of being nice? Loosen up—go dancing, meet a girl, have a one-night stand; fuck with the lights on for once.

Hm. Sure he’d like to, but all he’s got is about forty-five minutes before bed because he’s frankly too busy (see: stubborn, see: not interested in just any girl) for anything else.

For forty-five minutes, Steve takes a moment of truth and runs warp speed into the burning sunset with it.

The time you put your hand in his hair to fix a flyaway before a press conference—what if you gripped it hard, instead? Your candy pink lip gloss on Friday evening—what if it smudged off on his jaw, his collar, his eager cock? How you looked lifting out of the pool with rivulets of water dribbling into the hollow of your throat—what if he pressed his cheek to it, drank from it?

(The expression that might cross your face when you realize Steve would very much like to fuck you with the lights on.)

When you kissed him on that mission in Thailand, sliding into his lap to hide the both of you in a corner nook of a restaurant. The taste of sweetened coffee passed from your mouth to his, and he couldn’t help but dart his tongue out. You playfully scolded him about taking advantage of a dangerous situation (it wasn’t that dangerous), and despite all your usual attitude, it was surprisingly cute how you couldn’t make eye contact afterwards, making him want to kiss you again just to figure you out.

Last night—when you smiled, the glimmer in your eyes like a sliver of moonlit coin and if he blinked at the wrong time, he might have missed it. Your breathy laugh, your little giggle, how you raggedly pant while you spar, he thinks about those sounds mingled with his name. Your weight, a perfect amount of pressure crawling on top of him, mapping out the expanse of his chest.

He’d be happy just to watch, finally able to see you in glimpses not bordering voyeuristic like when you zip up in the hangar or concerned when you peel off Kevlar layers smudged with gunpowder. No, you’d be relaxed and tangible, full and felt—breasts, waist, belly, the sides of your hips as you straddle him, pulling his hands toward your body and letting him touch you.

Steve sighs into the darkness of his room, sweats shucked off, lube-slick hand feeling for his already aching cock. What’s he going to think about tonight? The small of your back when you lean over the pool table? The long, graceful shape of your fingers exploring his torso? Your face dazed, tipsy-tinged after a few drinks and sweet on his shoulder?

(He would like more of that. He could make you look like that if you ever asked.)

His hips move in careful circles, testing his grip, nudging at the tunnel of his fist like how your pussy would resist the first thrust until he wedges his way past it, slipping the head of his cock into your warmth. You’d be so, so warm. So soft and tight and perfectly fitted around him.

“Ah, fuck,” Steve mutters, eyes squeezed shut.

He fucks into his fist, the sound of slick gushing out like wet slaps, like the hot clutch of noise your tight hole would make as he’d stretch it out—as he’d stretch you out.

He’s panting harder. You‘d look breathtaking on all fours, head turned around to see him rutting inside, jaw slack in disbelief that your body could keep taking him like this, like you could break any moment.

The pretty, pretty whimpers at the harsh punctuation of every thrust. They’d tear loose from your throat and you wouldn’t be able to bite them down anymore. You could unravel because of him—shattering because he’ll have gotten past your defenses, gotten so deep you could do nothing but arch back for more, needing him further, needing him to know you how nobody else knows you.

Steve’s mind races through each position— every arrangement of your arms and legs in ways you’d give into because he would make the burn delicious, blurring discomfort into pleasure, and how you wouldn’t care if it might hurt because desire would be the drive— him behind the wheel taking you closer to that cliff’s edge.

He’s peeling off into the horizon now, moaning, bucking carelessly, blinded by the bright sun, by the white threatening to explode behind his eyes.

“Uhhhnn—” he looks down at his throbbing cock, swollen with friction and fiction, his other hand rolling the tender skin of his sac between his fingers. He squeezes a hair trigger tighter, in pulses, mimicking how you’d feel close to coming, begging for his release to fill you. Your hands gripping his hair for purchase, hard and frenzied, the scrape of your nails on his scalp. And finally, the abandoned, purely physical response of your body during orgasm, the undeniable wrecked wail of his name.

He’d be rough and gentle all at once, he’d make you taste yourself, clean up the mess you’ve made on him, and then he’d kiss it out of your mouth when he fucks you again. You’d be sore already, and sore the next day. He’d want to leave you aching, shuddering, babbling and delirious for more, for only him.

You’d cry, Steve, oh—my god—oh my god—feels so good, Steve. Fuck me harder, please. However you want—whatever you want, I promise.

You’d suck on his fingers, bite down when it became too much, too good. You’d shake, and shake, and shake and Steve— he falls.

Spun out, headfirst, off the steepest bluff of his inventions and crashes into open waves beneath. Your moaning mouth, your soaked cunt, your entire being an unprimed canvas waiting for his splatter.

And it’d be perfect.

He comes in ropes, gasping into the reverberating echo of his own breath, hips still moving, back still arched, wet slick dripping down into his fist where he keeps going, using it as another coat of lube. Maybe you’d squirt. Maybe you’d put your face in your hands, embarrassed, or maybe you’d lose all control and he’ll have to hold you up.

The second wave comes fast and better than the first.

The third, easy, only tinged with a prickle of rawness that makes his toes curl.

Steve’s chest is sweat-slick and heaving, heat rising off his body as he evens out, throat murmuring the syllables of your name in yearning. He nudges hair off his forehead with the back of his clean hand, and then he checks his clock.

Back to reality, forty-five minutes on the dot tells him he’s still punctual, as you say.

He cleans up, stretching his back as he ambles to the restroom before returning to bed, satisfied. And when Steve tucks himself in for another peaceful night’s sleep, he wonders what you do in the privacy of darkness and if your ritual is anything like his own.

Do you shuck off your lounge clothes? Do you fuck yourself beneath layers of covers with your fingers? A toy? Grab your tits and put those same fingers in your mouth? Do you think about someone—do you think about him? His dick is still half-hard, half-raring for another session because the fourth and fifth time, when it hurts even worse, feels like coming up for breath after a drowning-- feels beyond good.

He’ll think about you some more tomorrow.

(He’ll think about making you come four or five times.)

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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i am so very gay

VICTORIA DE ANGELIS photographed by Domenico Falso, 2018

#victoria de angelis #maneskin #bi

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imaginesaworld · 4 years ago

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just like a song

summary: the italian countryside, 1983. harry’s the summer guest, and extremely hard to resist.

word count: 3k

masterlist

obviously inspired by call me by your name. i just wanted to write aesthetic smut while listening to watermelon sugar on repeat.

moodboard by @aestheticsarereal !!!

It’s Italy, and it’s summertime, and the air is warm but not unbearably so; more like a pleasant heat that radiates, from the cloudless sky to my body. These are the moments I’ll remember: lounging beachside and watching a man who is not really a man; he seems to be something more, something exquisite, all chiseled jaw and jade stare that makes me want to peel off the red bikini I’d bought yesterday.

It’s all for you, I say with my eyes and not my mouth, for he’s too good-looking and intimidating to ever confess. I push up the expensive sunglasses he’d gotten for my whole family; we all know how wealthy he is. There’s no need to show off, but that’s one of the many things that attracts me to him. The effortless center of attention, always.

Yet it really is all for him. I can show off too, you know. I wonder if he feels anything, any arousal at the sight of my tan line and long brown legs, glistening in the afternoon sun. Or am I always to remain the professor’s daughter, young and clueless?

The maid trots onto the beach with some lemonade and piles of fruit. She calls out briskly and every guest comes out of the water, except him. He takes his time, back-floating and then some laps, every stroke languid and unfairly sensual. So when he emerges, triumphant and dripping, every person is watching him breathlessly, the way he’s used to.

Except me. I stand up and grab the last watermelon slice; incidentally, he does too.

“You can have it,” he says. And isn’t that cute. Polite English gentlemen in every scenario. I don’t care about his kindness. I want to see what’s under those tight swim trunks.

“We’ll share,” I tell him. Usually I’d just shove it in my mouth, but his effect on me is anything but usual. “Take a bite.”

He shrugs and obliges, nibbling more than anything. I smile and bite it, actually bite it, until there’s barely anything left. I chew and swallow and lick my lips after. Juice dribbles from my chin, wondering if there’ll be a day where he’ll wipe it off.

“Looks like I’ve saved some.” I hold the slice near his mouth; he raises his eyebrows before swallowing. I smear a bit of juice on his lips, it amplifies the pink, and oh fuck, he’s perfect, actually perfect. If I had one wish, just one wish, I’d be kissing them, tasting the watermelon, ravishing him.

“I have work to finish,” he finally says, his Italian flustered. Nobody looks at him in surprise; he’s often confined to books, even more than the regular mentee. And he leaves so fast, I can’t even tell if there’s that bulge in his shorts, calling me home.

* * *

It’s my fault. I’d selected him. His application was impressive, Harry Styles, mid-twenties, M.A. in literature, blah, blah, blah, but the photo that came along with it even more so. It was rather worn, as if he’d crumpled it multiple times. The fold lines did not take away the sheer beauty of his loose white shirt, the first two buttons unbuttoned, and the straw-hat that did not hide all of his dark curls. Mother said he looked like a buttero in that picture and perhaps she was right, but he made a very pretty cowboy.

“We should get someone younger this summer,” I convinced my father after dinner. He’s more pliant when he smokes his cigar. “And someone from Europe rather than America. We’ll look biased.”

“We got someone from the Alps last year,” the maid pointed out as she served dessert.

“Maybe I’ll finally make an acquaintance,” I said loudly. “You know how that’s hard for me.”

“Often it’s harder to befriend the youth.” He let out a puff of smoke. “But yes, I’d rather mentor a younger writer, unaccustomed to rejection and hopeful for their career.”

“There’s one who’s also interested in music.” I glanced at my mother, who was uninterested. “He’s from England and wants to create a portfolio—”

My father smiled knowingly. “I know who you’re talking about. If you’re sure…”

“Quite sure. His work seems…promising.” I raised my glass of wine, giggly because I hadn’t read a word of what Harry had written. “You’ll thank me in the future.”

* * *

I’m being punished for my lust. He conveys no reciprocation, whether it be during breakfast in the balcony or evening jogs. His confident strides are not for me, but for everyone else in this claustrophobic town. It doesn’t matter how skimpy my attire is or how much Homer I read in hopes of impressing him. Nothing works.

Maybe it’s my hair or my eyes or the extra fat on my hips. Maybe it’s my young age (only two years apart). Maybe it’s because I’m a woman and he prefers only men. Whatever it is, it fucking hurts.

I don’t come down for meals anymore. I ignore Harry and his ink-stained fingers, his infectious smile and lean body, the thoughts I only allow to haunt me in the dead of the night, when his even breathing floats from his room to my confined space, and my body is on fire and I wonder what’s stopping me to undress myself and walk into his room and demand him to fuck me. If yes, great, if he protests, fine. I’ll leave. But maybe he’s denying himself. Is it too much to think that he wants me too?

The next morning it’s obvious he only wants a cousin of mine, a curly-haired bitch named Clara. She’s younger than I am and much more immature. She smirks at me as they embark on their bikes together.

“They’re just going to the plaza,” I remark to a colleague, but it’s to convince myself.

“We’ll see what they buy,” she responds. And of course I curse everything when they return with two bottles of sparkling water: according to our town, if you’d just had slow, lovely sex, that’s the perfect refreshment.

“So Clara is making him a local.” I almost laugh, but I don’t. That high-pitched sound would make it obvious, so I smile in the way one does when they’re hiding any pain. “It’s sweet.”

Not sweeter than the dessert the maid has made today. Thick chocolate cake, topped with layers and layers of white cream. Harry devours it rather startlingly, licking his fingers when he’s done.

“He hasn’t eaten…a proper meal today,” Clara explains, her innuendo making my mother shift from discomfort and Harry to frown. He looks at her as if he’s just found out she could talk. They stare at each other while the rest of us watch.

I stand up abruptly. “Why don’t you play something for us in the living room, Clara?”

The girl blushes; I’ve done my job well. Back in the day, when we both sat in red church dresses and shiny black shoes, only one of us ended up succeeding in music.

“You know I’m shit,” she mutters. Understatement.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” From the corner of my eye, I can see my father’s cigar dangle threateningly, as if he’s going to chastise me for being rude to my cousin. But I stare at Harry. “Do you have any requests? ‘God Save The Queen?’”

“Funny.” He stands as well, picking up his empty plate. “How about Chopin?”

“I can do Chopin.” I can do you too. “I can do Chopin, but only with a twist.”

“She always incorporates her own creativity,” my mother butts in.

“How pleasant.” Harry’s honeyed voice drips with boredom. He’d much rather be working, I know. Don’t you worry, baby, I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.

We gather in the spacious foyer, white curtains flying thanks to the gentle breeze. I adjust myself, facing the shiny instrument with a vague sort of trepidation, then begin to play.

I barely register the sound of the music, just press and prod and fantasize about Harry sneaking up on me from behind, his lips brushing against my ear, leaving kisses on my neck after each note. There’s something inherently sensual with the way I complete the composition, somewhat like an orgasm; a beautiful, pleasuring finality and I know he’s shocked even before I look up.

“You’re quite good,” he says, recovering quickly.

“Thank you.” I pretend I’m not overjoyed by his praise. “Any other requests, everyone?”

They glance at each other. Harry, however, is still staring at me. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

“Oh, I learned here and there.” I pretend to yawn. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“I can play some instruments.” His chin juts out, almost arrogantly, but it glosses over and his habitual politeness is back. “I studied music theory for my bachelor’s.”

“That’s amazing,” Clara says loudly, but Harry pays her no mind. He keeps watching me, as if waiting for my reaction.

Well, here it is. “How pleasant.”

Then I stand up, grab my sheets and curtsy ever-so-slightly. His eyes bore into mine, but I ignore them. “Goodnight, everyone.”

That night, he doesn’t return to his room until much later. I lie in the cool white sheets, listening to crickets cluster in the yard and trying to pick up his movements. Harry’s footsteps are not joined by anyone else’s, a good sign. Clara must’ve finally resigned her efforts, at least for now.

I hear him adjust and shuffle. It’s endearing, almost cute, thinking about him underneath the covers. My thoughts remain pure until I hear him exhale loudly.

I raise my eyebrows. They almost disappear into my hair when he keeps exhaling, the tempo of his voice increasing as the occurrence becomes more evident. He references God a lot. Might explain the green cross that hangs from his neck.

I sit up now. Thank God for the thin walls, although now I’m worried that he’s heard me quite a few times. My face heats up and so does the rest of me. I wonder what he’s thinking of, if its his supposed encounters with Clara or somebody back in London. Or maybe he’s thinking of me, of the way I played earlier. I try to imagine myself with my eyes closed and my fingers nimble but all I can think of is him and where his hand is and his breathy moans.

He cries out so beautifully, into the summer night and there it is, almost indistinguishable but I hear it, I swear I do. My name, my name, my name. He doesn’t say it again, just adjusts himself once more and then there’s heavy silence which eventually morphs into his gentle, slumbering breathing.

I want to barge into his room, but I let him sleep. My eyes are wide and my throat is dry. Perhaps my feelings have escalated to the point where I am tragically deluded, but it had been so real. His voice had shook slightly as he called out my name, and it repeats in my head. Over and over and over again. ��

* * *

“Hello.”

I drop the books I’m holding and turn around, startled. There he stands, wearing his signature sunglasses and snug in his baby blue tunks.

“Hi,” I say. He bends over to help me pick up the heavy volumes.

“Sorry for startling you,” he says. His eyes sweep over the cluttered space. Green ink bottles, empty notebooks, apricots lying on the white table. The smell of baking pastries flows into the room. “This is where you study?”

“I need my privacy.”

“I learn something new about this house everyday.” Harry smiles, walks around.

“It’s your own little library. Some prefer studying outside, y’know, where the sun shines.”

“I’m not one of those people.”

“Nor am I.” He sits on the edge of the polished desk. “I need my privacy too.”

My cheeks burn at the thought of last night’s noises. Is he tempting me? I think. His stare is innocent, but there’s something in his smile.

“You even have a piano,” Harry adds. “Do you practice often?”

“Hardly.” I run my finger along the spine of some novella. “I’ve had a slow summer, when it comes to music.”

“That’s not what I gathered from last night. You’re very confident while playing.”

“Am I not otherwise?” I look up at him.

He shrugs, undeterred. “I feel like we haven’t gotten along very well. You seem to avoid me.”

“Well. I’m the baby of the family. I’m shy.”

“Or so they tell me.”

“There are no lies in this house.”

“They’re not lies; they just don’t know.”

“What don’t they know?”

Harry’s accusation is amused, but startling nonetheless: “You’re hiding something.”

Instead of defending myself right away, I say, “What am I hiding?”

We stare at each other. I realize I’m waiting for him to respond; I really want to know the answer. What’s there, deep inside me? And is what I feel so sinister?

I tear my gaze away from him and answer for him. “I pretend to be prudent.”

“No. You are prudent. You’re intelligent, you know things.”

“Maybe I do know. I just don’t understand.”

“You’re young. You’ll get there.”

“I’m not much younger than you. You act like we’re ages apart.” I cluck my tongue. “You’re hardly a graduate student.”

“But you appear to be innocent,” Harry argues. “Pure.”

“So that’s what I’m hiding. My innocence.” I run a hand through my hair, feeling the strands untangle as I look up at him. “You see right through me.”

Harry’s laugh is loud. “You’re something else.”

But I can’t take it anymore. I stand up, frustrated. “I’m the only person in this town that outwardly doesn’t bow down to you. Is that why you haven’t chosen me?”

“Chosen you?” Harry repeats, eyes narrowing.

“You’re sleeping with my cousin. You’re sleeping with others. But not me.”

“You want to sleep with me.”

“Drop it,” I say sharply. “You’ve already seen through my stupid act. I’m—” I cut off, exhaling sharply. “What is your type, anyways? It doesn’t seem to be a specific type of person.”

Harry holds up a finger. “Hold on, darling. By the way things were going, you acted as if you were revolted by the mere sight of me.”

I look away again. “You know that’s not true.”

His sigh resembles a father’s, exasperated by a petulant child. “Alright, fine. I see the way you stare. I’ve noticed the way you used to hover and don’t anymore.” He swallows. “And well, you’re the professor’s daughter—”

“A damn shame,” I mutter.

“—Besides, you’re different. Not like child-like Clara. You’re observant, you’re…You seem like somebody who could actually fall for me. We don’t want to complicate things, don’t we?”

* * * Tonight I’ll prove to him he’s not all that he thinks he is. That I’m no different from the rest, that all I’m looking for is his ability to drive in-and-out of me with relentless passion. It’s not an easy task, but I start with finally unclasping my bikini and lying in his bed, waiting for his musical footsteps to make his way in here.

When it finally happens, beams of light from the pale moon are illuminating my breasts and it’s the first thing he sees. Harry is a calculating man, but the way he acts is instinctual. He shuts the door, sits besides me, tilts my chin up and kisses my lips. It’s exciting, it’s foreign. I slip my tongue in so I can fully taste him, his sweet taste, like mint and some cherry dessert we’d eaten. I yank some of his hair, finally able to relish how soft it is, and he winces in pleasure.

Our lips break apart. I like how I’m naked and he’s not. It doesn’t feel like objectification. It’s something I want to do. I want to tempt him. I want to make him feel, at least a fraction of how I do when he looks at me.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry says, and he says it with such conviction that I believe it. I feel like a goddess, powered by the moonlight and his hungry stare. My breasts bounce as I sit up and he cups one, his touch gentle and lovely. His touch drives me over the edge and I want to see him, all of him, now.

“Take them off,” I breathe. But it’s more of a request than a demand.

He unbuttons his billowy shirt, takes off his tight shorts. He folds his clothes carefully, as if we have all the time in the world. Because it feels like we do. To me, his visitation is limitless. There is no time after this summer, and there was no time before it. It’s just the present, just us, his hands roaming around my body, my hands roaming around his. His stomach is flat but muscular, hard and nice to touch. My tongue circles around his navel. I look at him; he looks at me. I want to make him feel.

I’ve never done this to a man before. I’ve never felt the need to. I adjust myself on the clean floor, pausing for a moment to listen to the chirping crickets before letting my mouth engulf his length. Harry seems surprised at my actions, his reaction rather like a teenager’s. Maybe I’ve just found a gift I never knew I had.

“Oh, God, yes,” is my incentive to keep going, so I swirl my tongue around until I can see my saliva, glistening with the pre-come leaking.

I bob around; apparently this is the right thing to do, for he moans devastatingly, his hands curling in my hair now. “Get off—I’m close,” he says hoarsely, but I don’t, so he lets his words become indistinguishable as he orgasms, his cry loud and sharp. I cannot make out my name and I frown, but his refractory period is seemingly nonexistent for he grips my hips quickly, lying me on the bed and using his knee to spread my legs apart.

“Fucking amazing,” Harry whispers, and I love the sound of his praise and the taste of his come and the way his finger teases my entrance, wet and waiting. “Gorgeous.” I brace myself but his touch makes its trail to my clit instead. No man I’ve ever been with has ever paid attention to that area before. Then again, they were all young and silly, just as I was young and silly. As I grew older, I closed myself off from the mindless inhabitants of my town, wanting no one until Harry, until Harry and his experienced tongue.

“You don’t have to,” I say breathlessly, but of course I want him to. He begins to lick with masterful strokes, just as he moves in the ocean, and the combined image of his naked body and the recollection of his swimming makes me writhe.

My hands curl in his bed sheets and then I come too, crying out his name with such clarity. It’s not enough, though; I want him inside me. I beckon with my finger and he lets his thick cock rub against my thigh as my breathing evens out, my heart rate settling. The afterglow of my orgasm is interrupted by his graceful shoving. I grit my teeth and take it.

“‘S been a while,” I explain.

He nods and grabs my hand, squeezing it gently as he begins to move. It feels so good. I bite my lip but I can’t control the whimpers when the thrusts speed up.

“Say my name,” I plead loudly. “Like you did last night.”

Harry blushes. “Didn’t think you’d hear.”

“It was the best thing I’ve ever heard,” I tell him truthfully, and that breaks his cool resolve. He lets go, lets himself succumb to the warmth of my body. My name on his tongue sounds just like a song, the most beautiful melody. Better than any Chopin composition.

He spills his release inside me and we stare at each other. In his eyes is the beautiful truth; his worries are not centered around me making things complicated. It’s the opposite.

Birds begin to sing. I look at the window; I didn’t realize the pale moonlight was being replaced by the dawn of a new day. Harry redacts from me and looks away, as if ashamed.

My lips brush against his knuckles and I smile softly. I have the whole summer to convince him I reciprocate any budding feelings. Besides, it’s not fun if it’s not complicated.

let me know what you think!! keep sending requests, i’m getting to all of them! i just wanted to finish this piece haha, i started it in november and ended it abruptly

#harry styles #harry styles smut

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