#First Date Tips For Men | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

syoddeye · 4 months ago

Text

meet your match

price x f!reader | 10k | AO3

cw: dubcon, explicit sexual content, praise kink, daddy kink (mentioned), breeding kink, john price wife-hunting/wife at first sight, perfectionist/workaholic/lonely reader, stalking, manipulation

John spots the ad as he punches a pin through his card.

It’s impossible to miss.

Bright red hearts, pink-and-white checkered borders on glossy paper someone paid extra to print. A heart-shaped tack centered perfectly along the top edge. Big looping letters—MEET YOUR MATCH SPEED DATING.

It looks absurd next to his card. A dull rectangle of plain cardstock, his name printed in clean, unembellished letters, ‘John Price - Handyman’, and his number below. No bright colors, no flourishes. Simple like the work. Honest. Keeps his hands occupied between deployments.

The disgust arrives on a delay, a spark traveling along powder. A twist in his gut, a curl of his lip. His eyes rolling hard in his skull. It’s an affront—not just to him, but to the very idea of how things are supposed to go.

He yanks a trolley free, muttering under his breath.

Who in their right mind would waste time like that? Spinning around, talking to strangers, volleying shallow questions, forcing laughter. Acting like most people don’t make up their minds in the first thirty seconds about whether or not they want someone in their bed.

The whole affair reeks.

He shoulder-checks another man in power tools, too distracted by the voices of his sergeants drifting uninvited through his head, summoned by all his grousing.

Stubborn, cantankerous Price. Twice-divorced, stuck in a year-long dry spell because he’s got a habit of scaring off any decent woman who strays into his orbit. The mean old bastard who always moans about the good ol’ days—when men met women face-to-face, not through some app where you swiped left or right like you were picking out a meal deal.

When he could pick them up right off the street, like the first Mrs. Price. Or the supermarket, like her successor.

The memories leave a bittersweet taste. An ache in his groin. It’s been a minute since he took a girl home. Since he tried.

Through the shelves, the poster shines like a fucking beacon.

He breathes sharply through his nose, shakes it off, and shoves deeper into the store.

He never should’ve looked at the bloody thing.

Four fingers’ worth of amber sloshing around in his belly, he swallows the burn of embarrassment with another glass. Lets it dull his better judgment. The tips of his ears red hot as he punches his bank card into the online checkout, grumbling some half-formed excuse to himself.

The confirmation email arrives in seconds. He ignores it.

He spends the week installing cabinetry, letting the scream of a circular saw drown out his thoughts. Shovels dirt over it when he lays a garden path for a neighbor one afternoon, determined to bury it one stone at a time. Tamping it down along with the dirt, out of sight, out of mind.

But then the reminder lands in his inbox, bright and cheery. Evidence of his lapse in judgment. His mood sours, dragging him into the muck like a boot caught in deep, clinging mud. He knows he ought to ignore it again, chalk it up to a stupid mistake, but—

An itch flares on the back of his ring finger. He scratches it raw, but there’s no relief.

On the night of, he drives white-knuckled to the next town over, pulling into the car park twenty minutes early. He leans against his door, cigar in hand, smoke curling into the cold air as others arrive.

Most of them come in groups, chattering and laughing, familiar. He jumps from one face to the next, cataloging. His finger rests on an invisible trigger, caught between decisions—go in and see what the fuss is about, or make a quick retreat, head home, and catch some pretty face’s stream instead.

Then, a small cluster of girls passes by, giggling behind manicured hands, casting sidelong glances that scream daddy issues. He exhales a ribbon of smoke, watching over the glowing cherry of his cigar.

Whether or not he, by some miracle, finds a match tonight, there’s always the potential for a consolation prize.

As soon as he slaps a name tag onto his chest and scans the crowd, it’s obvious—he’s one of the older men present. Hell, scratch that, he might be the oldest by a fair stretch.

The younger bucks don’t spare him a second glance, too busy puffing out their chests, checking the competition among themselves. The women, though, they’re more forgiving. A few give him passing looks, flickers of intrigue as they clock him standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching.

John knows what he looks like. North of forty, gray threading through his temples, a soft layer of fat settling over the muscle beneath. Dressed sensibly, nothing flashy. Not like the men peacocking around in too-tight shirts, drowning themselves in cologne, preening. He’s here, and that’s about the extent of his effort.

And then the first round begins. He sits across from the first girl, and the second her eyes widen—not in the way he’d like—he knows exactly what kind of night this is going to be.

It proceeds as expected.

The fascination with his years, the curiosity. What’s a man like you doing at something like this? The inevitable prying. Married before? Twice? Oh, well, then. Or worse, the giddy birds, buzzing in their seats with smiles that say, yes, he is the answer to some life-long wound, a stand-in for the attention they never got from their fathers.

Then there are the unbearably shy ones, pulling teeth just to get a full sentence out before the round is called. Good girls. Decent girls. Girls who stare at him as if he’s about to vault the table and sink his teeth into their throats.

Which is absurd.

He’s a war dog. He prefers a bit of fight. Skin in the game. Make it worth his while, tucker him out.

By the end of it, his card is full, but he’s unimpressed.

His knees and back ache from all the repetitious standing and sitting, moving from seat to seat like some wind-up toy. His jaw is sore from clenching, his temples pulsing from two hours of forced patience. Hands itching for a smoke. It’s nothing like sitting and waiting for a clean shot. That always results in at least a job well done. A mission accomplished. This? A lousy scorecard and a couple of numbers he won’t call from girls who don’t have a clue what they’re looking for?

He’s out of his fucking mind for even bothering.

It’s demeaning.

The organizer flicks on the mic, sending a screech of feedback through the speakers, and he rips the name tag from his chest, teeth grinding. He didn’t listen the first time—only a fucking moron would need the rules explained twice. He’s already angling toward the door, ready to make his exit, when he sees you.

The evening turns on its head.

The last hour wiped clean with a look.

Bright red hearts dangle from your ears. A matching necklace rests at the hollow of your throat. A pink-and-white checkered clipboard sits on your hip, a matching pen twirling absently in your fingers. Chipped crimson varnish on your thumb, like you’ve been peeling it off. Chewing, maybe.

Glittery boots lend you height. Shoulders squared, posture straight. Doing your best to exude confidence.

Candyfloss sweet, with a pinch of salt.

You prattle on. Platitudes, mostly. How engaged everyone looked in their conversations, a playful quip about how some already seem like goddamn lovebirds. Your voice lilts with charm, a smidge warbly. You must’ve given this speech a hundred times before. Then comes the boasting.

Your agency’s success rate. The numbers, the percentages. How many second and third dates attendees report back. How you’ve helped introduce hundreds of couples. There’s pride in it. Your eyes brighten. But it’s a veneer. Thin as lace.

He sees it. The beads of sweat gathering at your hairline, the faint sheen behind your ear, the subtle tremor in your voice when you get too caught up in your own enthusiasm. A broken-off giggle. The occasional tap of your fingers against the edge of that clipboard, a tic, a tell. You’ve got the confidence, but it’s over-rehearsed. As much of an accessory as the ornament wrapped around your neck.

And he can’t help but wonder.

What would you do if someone called your bluff? If he found you after? Stepped in close, trapped you against one of those god awful stiff-backed chairs, close enough that you felt the weight of him hovering? What would you do if he gave you his honest opinion about your ‘work’, face-to-face?

His mind spins on it for half a second before you say something that derails him completely.

Babies.

It lands like a stone dropped in a pond. Ripples outward in nervous laughter, uncertain shuffling. The younger attendees shift on their feet, casting shy, uncertain glances at each other. You fumble through it, quick and awkward, as if you’ve only realized the present demographics aren’t quite ready for the stork.

He hopes it’s an exaggeration. An offhand comment, a bone tossed out for the older guests in the room.

(Him, because who else fits the bill?)

His blood runs hot at that.

Something stirs in his gut, rising insistent and uncoiling in his chest. A want he thought he’d discounted out years ago, snuffed like a match between his fingers. Delayed by his climb through the ranks and waylaid by fizzling romance.

Children.

Can one ever really bury an instinct like that deep enough?

His own father soured him on the notion—spiteful, unforgiving, malignant tumor of a man. Impossible standards, an intolerance to match. A rage John inherited, honed, funneled into the one bloody release he found in service. An ugliness that made him swear off continuing the line.

Still, something funny holds him back. That itch.

He’s canceled every vasectomy he’s ever scheduled in the last decade. Reversible or not, it’s intoxicating to know what he’s capable of.

With you wandering into the crosshairs, it clicks into place. He understands.

He swallows, jaw clenching, and forces himself to look at your face instead of the hollow of your throat, where that ridiculous necklace rests. Forces himself to focus on what you’re saying instead of the shape of your mouth as you say it.

A-ffirmed. He’s out of his fucking mind for coming here.

He tells himself he won’t hunt you down afterward.

No. You’re insulated. Shielded by a flock of hens who swarm the second you return the microphone back to its stand, all clucking approval, dishing out compliments, asking their inane questions about your services. You nod, smile, say your thanks, gracious and warm, and it’s exactly the excuse he needs to leave.

He should leave.

Instead, he declines to give your colleague his scorecard, stuffing the useless sheet into his pocket without so much as a second look-over. He chews the inside of his cheek, locked on you. Takes what he tells himself will be his last look. Prints you on the inside of his eyelids.

Then he sees your hand.

A short stack of business cards, matching the damned poster that started this whole ridiculous mess. He moves before he can think better of it.

Crosses the hall in a handful of long strides. The younger women scatter in his wake, parted by his low, muttered pardon me’s.

And you, you—

Eyes wide, lips parting around a breath, half a sentence, “Here, sir,” before he plucks a card from your fingers.

Then he’s gone.

Straight out the door. Across the car park. Sliding into the driver’s seat, his pulse thundering in his ears, his hand already reaching for the glove compartment. Lighter. Cigarette. Routine to steady himself. Busy his hands so he doesn’t barge right back inside and drag you out behind him. Fire to distract the caveman clawing at his brain.

He doesn’t look at your card right away, not until the first drag burns through his lungs.

It’s just as garish as the poster. Wine-red lettering. Your name. The dating agency you work for. Your number.

And if that isn’t convenient.

That’s half the battle won.

He should call. Go through the proper channels, hire you for your services like any decent man would. But there’d be no way to lie about what he’s really looking for and what he really wants.

He can’t be too direct, can’t risk scaring you off, but he also can’t leave it up to chance. Experience—and two spousal payments—have taught him better than that.

He won’t make the same mistake a third time.

John does his research.

Your online presence is threadbare, limited to a short bio on the agency website and a sparsely populated profile on a corporate network. Matchmaker, professional hostess. He scrolls, picks apart the scraps. Posts you’ve written and shared, abbreviated comments you embellish with hearts.

Little as he has to study with, it adds up.

You’re all work, no play. Polite, sweet, and a real go-getter, as a former colleague describes you. All butterflies and whiskers on kittens. Sugar-coated professionalism. Your accomplishments and certifications laid out like medals, ambitions clear. Ruthless, in your own way, but the kind with puppy teeth, growing into your bite, he’d bet.

He saw you struggle and the nerves you tried to hide. Maybe others bought it, but he didn’t. If that’s where you are after years on the job, he imagines what you were like in the beginning. Easily rattled, unsteady on your feet.

Still. You’re trying. Look where you are now. Go-getter.

The effort and determination, however clumsy, fascinates. It keeps him searching for a glimpse beneath the polished exterior, but there’s nothing. Not a single mention of friends, family, or, notably, a boyfriend.

It makes his teeth ache.

He needs more.

A hideous, modern building. The very opposite of you—cold, plain, and impersonal. Expensive, not without amenities. His favorite?

The floor-to-ceiling windows.

Blessedly, you are a creature of routine.

Home to work, and work to home. A seamless loop, unbroken save for brief, reasonable deviations. Trips to the shops, a walk through the park near your flat, a community gym. Even then, there’s no idle wandering or wasted time.

Sometimes, when you duck into the market, you emerge with a bouquet of flowers, petals and leaves wrapped in crinkled brown paper, or a bottle of wine, its slender neck peeking out. Small indulgences you buy yourself.

Because there’s no one else to do it for you.

He’s all but confirmed it, watching you ferry yourself between the same points, alone every time. No one welcomes you home. No one goes home to you. Big, lofty place like yours and no one to share it with.

It doesn’t sit right with him, on two fronts.

The first—you pride yourself on your expertise. The training, the certificates, the metrics. It’s all laid out online, your badges of honor, but you’re missing the biggest one, aren’t you? Lacking firsthand knowledge. Quite the albatross hanging around your neck.

The second—it’s self-flagellation, needless and punishing. Pretty, smart thing like you, locking yourself away. A princess banishing herself to a tower. The persistent, cynical part of him wonders if it’s simple snobbery. That you think you’re too good for men like him.

Yet that’s not quite it either, is it?

You shut yourself off from everyone.

Twice in one week, from his spot in the mouth of the alley outside your office, he hears you decline invitations for drinks from your colleagues. The same excuse, too much to do, and a pat to the stuffed tote slung over your shoulder.

You work hard, pour yourself into the gig, and when you manage to unwind, it’s always in isolation. A quiet dinner, a solo glass of wine, a book balanced on the arm of your couch. Those big yoga stretches in the morning and at bed time.

The thought solidifies into certainty: You need someone to step in. Someone who sees you.

Luckily for you, John does.

(You never pull those shades down all the way. A fancy place like yours? It’d be a shame to keep them covered, lose the view.)

Satisfied he’s learned all he can from a distance, John decides to meet you properly, on familiar ground. A lonely, overworked girl deserves at least that much. He isn’t cruel.

Buying another ticket to another fucking night of pointless dating doesn’t taste so bad when he has you to look forward to.

This time, it’s in the back room of a restaurant. Smaller, intimate.

Perfect.

John glides through the song and dance. Sign in, take the name tag, acknowledge your coworker, let them believe he’s another hopeful looking for love.

He is, in a way. Different from the last time. He strides with purpose now, heat-seeking. He sidesteps the idle chatter and growing crowd.

Eyes on the prize, and there you are.

As primped and polished as the first night, dressed in soft colors that contrast the tension strung tight in your shoulders pulled up to your ears. Just as on edge, if not more.

That damn clipboard is back on your hip, clutched like a lifeline, and it takes less than a second for his mind to replace it. A warm weight settled against you. Small hands grasping at fabric. A dark-haired child perched, fingers curled in your blouse.

His throat tightens.

You really shouldn’t have mentioned babies.

You move through the space in a current, pulled in every direction at once. Checking in with your coworker, refusing to delegate. Pointing guests toward the toilets, fielding messages on your phone, juggling it all with a thin smile.

It’s admirable.

Nevertheless, hairline cracks form. The light dulls in your eyes, the stress shakes your hands. You’re tired, and not the kind he wants to see on you.

Not the delicious, drowsy fatigue of a body thoroughly spent, melted into the mattress after he’s wrung you dry. Not the half-hearted whimper of a protest as you nuzzle into his chest, mumbling about your ruined makeup staining pillowcases and how it’s his fault. Not the slow, syrupy exhaustion of pleasure that makes you pliant and warm in his arms. The kind of fatigue that leaves you soft, content. His.

Nor the bone-deep weariness of a woman woken in the middle of the night, cradling—

He blinks, biting down on the thought, and suddenly, you’re within reach.

“Oh, hi again,” you chirp, passing a scorecard into his hand. “You came a couple of weeks ago, right?”

That ugly impulse rises within him again, the desire to drag you away outside and make your problems disappear. “I did.”

“Thought so. Well, good luck,” you check his name tag with a smile. “John. Hope you find someone tonight.”

If only you knew.

“One question, if you don’t mind,” he says, barely keeping his face neutral. “Ever find your own match at one of these?”

Your eyes widen with an almost comical look of confusion. “Excuse me?”

John doesn’t lower his head but instead stares right down his nose. “No ring on your finger,” he muses. “Boyfriend too scared to step up?”

“I–I’m not–”

“Don’t tell me,” he chuckles under his breath, “Miss Matchmaker is single?”

John tucks his chin to his chest and watches your pulse jump under your necklace. “Now that,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “is interesting.”

You freeze like you’ve been caught in a lie. Here you are, a professional playing cupid to the lovesick masses, and yet you’re fumbling. Single.

To your credit, you recover quickly, wetting your lips and pasting on a smile. “I don’t see how my personal life is relevant.”

“Oh, but it is,” he insists. “Handin’ out happy endings left and right, and you don’t have your own? How am I s’posed to believe your expertise?”

A line creases your brows. “My job isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it? You sell love for a living, but you don’t believe in it enough to keep it for yourself?”

“That’s not—I do not sell love…” You stop yourself, sucking in a breath. “I’m focusing on my career.”

“Right. Too busy pairing up strangers to find someone of your own.”

You bristle, shifting your weight, trying to hold your ground.

He likes that. Likes knowing he’s getting to you, pressing into a tender spot. Chipping away at the outer, painted shell.

Before you muster a response, he breaks into a warm laugh to play up the angle. “Only teasin’.” More like testing, sussing out how much give there is until you crack open and spill. “Well,” he pockets his hands, “guess that means you’re up for grabs, huh?” He winks. “Talk to you later, sweetheart.”

He leaves you stuttering, clipboard clutched to your chest.

The night is a blur. He couldn’t name a single woman he spoke to. Unlike last time, his sheet is empty. No scores. If any woman sees it as a loss, he wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t care.

John steps out for air until more bodies trickle out, and then returns inside. He skirts the edges, poking around the tables at the far end where you’re collecting placards, setting the scene.

In his periphery, he sees the moment you realize you’re on a collision course.

“Lose something?”

Fuck, your voice. Your normal voice, not the chirpy affect you slap on for work. Even if there’s a new wariness to it.

“Think I managed to misplace my card.”

Your eyes widen, darting over the tables you cleared. A good and helpful girl, ignoring that little voice in your head.

“Oh no, I’ll help you look. Do you remember what table you ended on?”

He grins. “That’s kind of you, darl.”

He peeks as you check beneath tables, bending and huffing in frustration when you come up empty-handed. The apologetic smile when you finally admit defeat.

“I guess it’s long gone,” you say reluctantly.

John lays it on thick. Shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment, crumpling the sheet hidden in his jacket into a tight ball. “That’s too bad. What a wash.” A wistful sigh. “And you put on such a lovely event, too.”

The conflicted delight on your face is delicious.

“I’m so sorry.” you murmur. “Let me comp you a ticket to another event. I can’t let you go home empty-handed.”

What a turn of phrase.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. You took time out of your schedule–”

“Grab a drink with me instead.” He interrupts smoothly. “Lift my spirits.”

You hesitate, before shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“A friendly drink?” he teases. “Where’s the harm in that?”

Not like you have a boyfriend to make jealous.

“It’s just, I ought to get this stuff back.” You nod toward the neat stack of placards, the tote overflowing with the event’s paraphernalia. “Calculate the scores, check compatibility…”

“Can’t your colleague do that for you?” he presses. “Think you deserve a drink for a job well done,” he adds, watching the way you react to the compliment, soaking it in like it’s the first kind word you’ve heard all day. “I saw you working hard all night. Busy girl, eh?”

Indecision shines behind your curled lashes. The gears turn in real-time, weighing the consequences of saying yes.

His nails puncture the paper in his pocket when you flash yet another sorry smile.

“I’m flattered,” you say, ever so gracious, “but I really can’t. I’ll send that free ticket to your email.”

The dismissal lands like a slap. Indignation sprints across his mind with disbelief snapping at its heels. You don’t give him a chance to tell you where to send that email instead, just the brush-off, slipping away before he can get a word in edgewise. Choler floods the chambers of his heart, draws a bit of blood.

Well, there’s that bit of fight he wanted.

You don’t look back, and he doesn’t blame you. You must feel the weight of his stare between your shoulder blades, on the curve of your ass. You whisper to your coworker, gesturing for their help with you.

His jaw flexes, fingers uncurling from the shredded card in his pocket.

That’s alright.

What kind of man would he be if he didn’t have a backup plan?

The moment unfolds as if coincidence.

John times his approach as you exit the florist, fingers idly stroking the petals of the bouquet in your arms, the same tulips you buy every week. He pictures doing the same to you.

He moves as you step onto the pavement. The collision is gentle, considering, but hard enough that his shoulder clips yours to knock your balance. Enough that you let out a startled gasp, grip faltering, sending the bouquet tumbling from your hands and bag jerking down your arm.

“Shit,” he mutters, crouching before you can. He gathers the flowers, offering them back with a small, sheepish smile. “Didn’t see you there, love. My fault—Wait.”

He tilts his head, narrows his eyes like he’s only just putting it together. Like he didn’t spend the morning in your shadow to ensure this exact moment.

Your attention jumps up to him in pure surprise.

“I know you. Miss Matchmaker.”

Recognition washes over your face, and in the span of a breath, confusion gives way to composure. It’s impressive how quickly you smooth it over, tucking away irritation.

“John?”

“You remember me.”

How could she not?

“Of course,” You take the flowers, clutching them tight. Never without a shield. “What a, um, small world.”

John huffs a short laugh, rocking back on his heels. “‘Fraid so.” He lets the silence stretch, drinking you in. You’re too poised to flinch outright, but he’s trained to catch it anyway. Fingers crinkling the paper, chin tipping a fraction higher.

You’re dressed for errands, wrapped in a trench that frustrates more than it should. He knows what’s beneath—having committed the curve of your waist to memory, the shape of your hips. It’s irritating, really.

Still, he likes the look of you like this. Definitely the type to never step outside without making yourself presentable. The type to live by the mantra you never know who you might run into. Collar turned up against the chill, hair styled meticulously away from your face, not hiding that guarded expression. You’re assessing him the same.

Good.

No catching you on the back foot today, not without a push.

“Draw up any matches since last we met?”

You exhale a short, amused breath. “I’m afraid that’s confidential.”

He grins. “Ah, right. Can’t have the matchmaker giving away her secrets.”

“Yep. Sorry again about your missing card and, um…” You trail off, and John fills in the blank. The rejection. Your insult is forgotten. Water under the bridge, as far as he’s concerned. “I hope you come next time. We’ll get you sorted.”

“Don’t think you’ll see me there again.”

“No?”

“Don’t think speed dating’s for me.”

You nod knowingly, and hike your bag higher onto your shoulder. “It isn’t for everyone. Some people prefer or have better luck meeting the old-fashioned way.” You lift your wrist and check your watch, the impatient thing that you are. Eager to get home to the hour or two of work you needlessly do every Sunday evening. You start to pull away, already checking out. “Well, I better–”

He steps forward, boxing you in toward the wall.

“Like this?”

Your brow knits, mouth pressing into an unsure smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Polite and strained. You glance at the busy walk, weighing whether it’s worth stepping around or if that would be too rude.

“Like ‘this’? I don’t–”

“Two people, running into each other by chance.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. Smile lapsing, dropping in and out. Curiosity buried beneath skepticism.

“John…”

He likes how his name sounds on your lips. He wonders how it’d sound under other circumstances.

“Have dinner with me.”

You blink and shrink back, though there’s nowhere to go. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t let your words land. He leans into them. No retreat. Not when the unseen thread fixing the two of you together tugs on the knuckle of his ring finger.

You adjust your grip on the bouquet. “I don’t date clients.”

“Haven’t hired you for anything, have I?” He tilts his head, innocent.

“A technicality.”

“But not untrue.” He cocks a brow. “One dinner. No strings. If you decide halfway through you’d rather be anywhere else, I won’t stop you.”

Another beat of hesitation. He’s patient. He knows how this works.

Then, finally, you sigh. “Fine. One dinner.”

John smiles. “That’s all I ask.”

For now.

In the days leading to dinner, there’s not enough work to fill his hands.

Certainly not enough to fill his mind.

His thoughts, however, are consumed by you. Maddening how much of his attention you command, how the brief moments shared echo in his mind long after. A constant reverberation, shaping his thoughts, making him imagine another life. Branches reality in two—one without you, unthinkable, and the other?

A home. A two-storey house with a garden. Kids. Maybe a dog. A do-over. His childhood, but through the looking glass and done right.

A life he’s determined to see the latter into fruition.

There’s very little he’s set his mind to that he hasn’t achieved.

He assembles an outdoor playset for a young family. Decent-sized house and lot. Not unlike the one he sees behind his eyelids. The little ones badger him with questions, tug at his sleeves, chatter away as he carefully fits the wooden frame together and hangs the swings. It’s good practice, what with his plans.

When their mother pops outside to offer water, she compliments his aptitude with children. His patience. Assumes he must have a brood of his own, and he doesn’t correct her. It’s in the works.

Her nails are red, like yours, but perfectly maintained. Despite the slight bags under her eyes, there’s a lightness to her smile that tells him she’s exactly where she wants to be.

And when she steps away to take a call, he imagines you in her stead. Having it all—a home, a family. He’ll give it to you.

She disappears inside. Her children shriek with laughter, and he wipes the sweat from his brow.

Yes. You, standing in the threshold, tea mug warming your hands. Watching a runt or two running wild, belly low with another. Your nails painted that same cherry tint. Chipped, but perfect.

The restaurant’s host recognizes him, he’s sure of it, but he doesn’t recognize you. How would he?

You’re younger than your predecessors, for one. Smiling, for another. Not on John’s arm as a captive for one of his fruitless, belated apologies. Nor are you clearly hostage to obligation, for a tired anniversary ritual, a repetition of mistakes. No. You’re here as someone new, a departure. John’s future.

He erases the other man’s disapproval with a banknote slipped into his palm. The coward keeps his lips sealed, ushering you to the table you deserve.

Price, party of two.

Maybe this time next year you’ll be celebrating a party of three.

If you’re upset over the server’s harmless assumptions about the two of you celebrating a special occasion, you hide it behind the menu. After ordering, you’re forced to relinquish it. Nothing left to hide behind.

The scrape of your finger over your thumbnail betrays agitation. A nervous habit he’ll break after the engagement. Can’t wear his ring without a flawless set.

He doesn’t want to change you. Not much. Not beyond what warrants influence.

As the conversation unfolds—your preferred wine, the rhythm of your day, the idle pleasantries—he studies. His first unobstructed view. No more staring across a crowded room or through your window from his car. Up close and personal.

You are everything he wants. Intelligent, pretty, industrious, and amenable. A woman made to be adored.

A wonder you deprive yourself of it.

John’s old hand at extracting information. There’s little difference between threats, praise, and encouragement. The right pressure and tone—all surface some truth. He’s practiced on plenty of folks with everything to lose.

But this? Far more delicate. High stakes.

And for all your sugar-spun sweetness and girlish, heart-strewn wardrobe, you are no easy conquest. You play coy. Meet his questions with half-answers, sidestep when you can, parry when you can’t. You know you’re being led, but not quite where.

Puppy teeth, but the same sensibility—you don’t know when to give up and roll over.

All the more proof you need him around.

It’s cute when you try to go dutch on the bill, flustering all over again when the server informs you John’s already paid. Damn near insulting, isn’t it? To be taken care of. That insistence on covering yourself, as if you can’t afford even the notion of dependency. A lifetime of self-sufficiency turned reflex.

You don’t know what to do when someone else takes the reins, and does a good job.

It shouldn’t surprise you. Not after he’s played the perfect gentleman. Holding the door. Pulling out your chair. Helping you in and out of your coat. Adamant on following through with escorting you home.

You made him meet at the restaurant. A necessary concession at the time, but a bruise nonetheless.

He acts surprised when he parks outside your building. Compliments the structure, neighborhood, all that. He leans against the driver’s side door, hands tucked into his pockets. Casual, as if he hasn’t plotted out how he’d get you inside.

You tiptoe around a goodbye. Promising.

The nerve comes, eventually.

“Were you…?”

He tilts his head, feigning mild curiosity. “Was I what?”

You square your shoulders in that trumped-up confidence. “Coming up?”

He lets the question hang for a beat longer than necessary to let you hear yourself.

This is a surprise. You pushed back on the date, but here you are asking him up. Lonely, needy creature. You’re probably wet.

Briefly, he reconsiders crowding you into the lift and watching that wide-eyed surprise melt. Years of stratagem hold him in place. The long con is always the smarter play.

“Oh, darl,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I am flattered.”

He injects enough warmth seep into his voice to make the rejection sting without cutting deep. “I was only teasing earlier,” he adds, a playful glint in his eyes, the perfect balance between charm and rebuke. “Think we ought to get to know each other better before that, don’t you?”

The shift is immediate. Your face falls. A flicker of surprise, a flash of embarrassment that you rush to mask with a nervous laugh, waving your hand as if physically brushing it off. That confidence of yours really is paper-thin. Fragile. So easy to poke and prod. Moldable.

“Ah, of course. I didn’t mean—”

No, but you did, and that’s the beauty of it. You want to mean it. You don’t know how to ask for what you want yet. Another lesson to teach.

“Don’t fret,” he soothes, taking a step closer, fingers finding your chin, featherlight, guiding it back. “How about a kiss goodnight instead, hm?” He taps the divot of your chin. “Tide you over until next time?”

He tastes your perfume first, having caught hints of it all night. Now it’s stronger, heady as you lift your chin. He waits until your eyelids flutter shut before leaning in, smelling burnt sugar before he samples it.

John knows indulgence best through cigars and smoke rolling over his tongue. But you? You cut through what that’s dulled, brighter. Red wine, velvet and ripe, staining the sweetness like crushed cherries. It’s Herculean, the effort to not change his mind and hustle you indoors. His mouth presses more firmly, and for one dizzying moment, he imagines the taste of your skin—licking sugar out of the bowl.

You try to get closer, but he cuts it off.

Your lips are wet, trembling when he pulls back, and you wear shame—white-hot and burning. In disbelief that you asked, aren’t you? What has gotten into you?

“Oh, I got lipstick on your mouth, let me–”

“Leave it.”

He pulls over once on the drive home, rummaging through the glove compartment to wipe the smear of your lipstick from his mouth. The sight of the red stain sends a pulse of heat straight down. You’d lose your head if you saw him now, he thinks, flicking open his belt in the dark. What you do to him.

He barely gets a good tug in before he ruins that stain, tasting sugar in the back of his throat.

Home in bed, he pulls up the headshot from your agency’s website and dips a hand under his waistband again.

Just something to tide him over.

You wait a standard three days to text. He calls instead.

You sound breathless, which makes sense. Now’s about the time you leave the gym.

“I’m scoping out a potential venue,” you explain, rushed, coming down from whatever routine you finished. He pictures it. Tight leggings, top clinging to sweaty skin, earbuds half-pulled out because you’re walking home alone. “I was thinking you could help?”

“Help? What do you need me for?”

“The atmosphere’s different when I’m alone. I don’t get a good sense if a space is conducive to dates.”

You’re asking him to play along. To be part of your world. Giving him another opening.

He smiles, unseen but satisfied. “Right. What am I getting out of this?”

There’s a short laugh on the other end, meant to cover your nerves. “Dinner,” you offer. “And the opportunity to let me know how you really felt about our services.”

Clever girl. Keeping it professional and leaving yourself an out.

“How could I refuse?”

The restaurant is a hole in the wall. He’d’ve never found it on his own. A perfect setting, but not for what you said. Testing the atmosphere. John knows better.

You’re staring through the menu, picking your thumb.

“Would it help if I set a timer and moved to the next table in five minutes?”

Your head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re fidgeting, sweetheart.”

You pull your hand away like you’ve been caught, setting it flat on the table.

“Nervous?”

A quiet admission. “Maybe.”

“Don’t date much, do you?”

Your spine straightens. “I told you, I’m focused on my career.”

“Mm.” John hums, leaning back. “Not a judgment, sweetheart. Just an observation. I merely find it interesting. You run speed dating. Introduce people. Help them make connections…”

“I’m good at it,” you murmur, a shield being drawn up.

“Never said you weren’t. Simply curious why someone so good at helping others find their person hasn’t found one of her own. Especially when she’s a catch.”

You don’t answer, not right away. But you don’t look away, either.

Good girl. Let him in.

The silence goes taut. Then, a sigh, and you lift your eyes again. There’s something different in them now. A crack in that carefully maintained composure. Vulnerability.

“I used to date a lot, actually. I had bad luck with men, though.”

John’s thighs flex under the table, hot and hungry pulse running through him. Finally. Finally, some answers.

“Tell me about them.”

It’s not a question. An invitation. One you’re teetering on the edge of accepting. Curiosity wins out in the end. You bite.

“There were…a few. Nothing serious. Not for lack of trying.” You confess, embarrassed. “I attract the wrong kinds of men.”

Funny. “What kind of wrong?”

“A flake,” you start, bitter. “Canceled more dates than he showed up for. I stopped bothering after a while.”

One.

“A man-child. Wanted a girlfriend who was more like his mother. Expected me to cook, clean, take care of everything while he played video games.”

Two.

“A cheapskate.” A hollow laugh escapes. “Took me out on a ‘fancy’ date and made me pay after he ‘forgot’ his wallet. On my birthday.”

Three.

“And…” Your throat works around the last one. The worst one. “A cheater. Slept with one of my friends. I walked in on them.”

Four.

Your four horsemen of the dating apocalypse.

John’s jaw clenches, though he schools his features. He can’t have you seeing what that information really does to him. Can’t let you know how badly it makes him want to hunt them down and fix it.

On top of it all, you tack on how they made you swear off dating for a year. Which turned into two, then three.

“Three years?”

You bite your lip, insecurity crossing your face. “Is that…bad?”

Three years. Three years of no one waiting on you, no one to spoil you. An empty flat, and, he assumes, a cold bed.

“Not at all. Only been on a few dates in the last year, myself.” ‘Date’ is a strong term for tossing part of his pay at pretty girls on screen for a chat. “Is that what this is, then? A date? Could’ve sworn I was here to help scope out the space.”

“No, I–I did ask you here to help with the venue, John. That’s all. Really.” A lie that twists you into knots, wrings your hands, fiddles with your necklace. It’s short-lived. “I suppose, if you want, it can be a date.” The words come out shy, testing the waters. “But so we’re clear, I’m not looking for anything serious, alright? I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Another lie. A thousand nights alone? You’re ready.

He smirks. “Well. Regardless, y’know how to make a man feel wanted, sweetheart.”

And if that doesn’t make you preen.

The conversation shifts when dinner arrives, treading into gentler waters. John alludes to his job, a morsel, and you, sweet girl that you are, don’t press for more. Content to gnaw on the bones he offers, easy details meant to keep those puppy teeth of yours busy. His parents. Where he’s from. How he wasn’t much of a student. How he worked under the table as a kitchen porter at a golf club until he joined up.

It works better than the wine, softening you bit by bit. The prick who poked at your insecurities earlier? He’s dissolving into someone else entirely. Someone you’re trying to figure out. Someone you might even like.

Your eyes linger longer when he speaks now. Your smile turns natural, less forced. You lean in when he talks, hanging on his words.

John knows exactly what he’s doing, feeding you enough to keep you intrigued, to have you looking at him through softer eyes. Because if you’re trying to piece him together, trying to understand him—you’re already invested. That’s how he’ll get you.

One crumb at a time.

It’s necessary groundwork. Sooner or later, details’ll come out. After all, you’re going to marry him. Certain things will have to be—

“Any, um…notable girlfriends? Since I told you about my four awful exes.”

Innocent. Fair. It still puts him on edge.

A big test for both of you. He told himself he’d lie weeks back. A fabrication to allow him to censor the truth and leave his past behind. See if he couldn’t get out of his payments and wash his hands completely of his ex-wives, call in a couple favors, push papers.

Yet now, now that you’ve bared your heart to him like a good and honest girl, he suppose it’s only right to tell the truth.

That’s not the plan, though.

He’ll phone a few names tomorrow. Get started on the paperwork.

“No one worth mentioning.”

The rest of the evening is easygoing from there. You remain relaxed, the earlier stiffness gone, but you’re still holding back. You let him toy with one of your rings for a few seconds before pulling away. Your feet bump under the table, and you tuck yours beneath your chair. Your eye contact’s better, but you find reasons to look away.

You’re resisting what’s building between you. He can see it clear as day. For one simple reason, John bets.

You don’t believe in love. Don’t trust it, at least.

Not anymore. Maybe you did once, back when it was uncomplicated, hadn’t soured in your mouth, and burned you down into the frazzled woman he’s observed. Before it became studied instead of felt. A series of points and calculated risks, a numbers game that you understand better than most. An expert on what works for everyone else but never quite trusting enough to let it work for you.

It’s why you throw yourself into your work. Why you obsess over climbing a ladder built on the successful couplings of others, measuring fulfillment in repeat dates and engagement announcements. If you can’t have it for yourself, at least you can manufacture it for someone else.

The problem is, he does believe in love.

He’s just never been any good at it.

It’s one of the few things he’s never let go of, even if he’s never known how to hold it properly. He’s always been better at destruction than construction—an arsonist, never an architect. He sets the foundation only to strike the match and burn it to the ground. That’s why his ex-wives only speak of him through intermediaries. That’s why his relationships have been more like wrecking balls than anything resembling stability.

It’s why he throws himself into his work.

It’s why you’re perfect for him, even if you fuss about it and tell yourself otherwise. Insist you want nothing serious to do with men again.

He knows better. Knows that under all that steel and sugar, there’s a heart that wants and aches, no matter how stubbornly you try to deny it.

This time, you surprise him. The dinner is pre-expensed on a company card. The grief that stirs with his ego ends smothered by the victorious look on your face when he pockets his wallet.

It makes you bold.

You suggest a pub a street over for afters, and he lets you lead. Men shrink away on the walk with him beside you, a hand on the small of your back.

The tables are smaller here, giving your legs nowhere to go when he spreads his underneath and cages them in.

Another round comes. Time slips by. The noise of the pub hums in the background, but his focus never wavers. With every sip, the distance narrows.

Inevitably, the conversation returns to speed dating and its apparent science. You try to stick to your principles. Too bad he has years of experience in bending those. It doesn’t take much more prodding.

“I can’t tell you what your dates said, word for word.”

“Then summarize.”

“You were…” You vacillate, searching. “Largely described as, um, curt, reserved, and distracted.”

Not inaccurate. He’s had worse appraisals and assessments.

He chuckles. “Must’ve had my eye on someone already.”

“Oh?” you say, trying for nonchalance, but it falls flat, hovering awkwardly in the air.

John shifts, stretching his legs out and closing them back into your space like he owns it—owns you.

God, you are so close. Skirting his reach.

You’ve reached a critical juncture. Make or break. Two dates, that’s all it takes, isn’t it? Two dates, and life itself stretches out with endless possibilities. Weeks of wanting have led to this. All the work he’s put in to get you here, to this goddamn table, where he can almost taste what could be.

His ring on your finger. His baby on your hip. Your own success story.

No one’s ever gotten anywhere worth going without a push. Without a nudge to take that last step and get over that line they’ve drawn for themselves.

John licks his lip. “Think you know who, sweetheart.”

It will take time, he realizes on the way to yours, to fully tear down the walls you’ve built around yourself. He feels it in the tentative kiss you place on the corner of his mouth at your building’s door, and again in the lift.

He’s no stranger to controlled demolition. This time, he won’t half-ass it. No more mistakes or half-hearted efforts. Third time’s the charm, and he’s ready to make sure of it.

Whatever backsliding occurs between the pub and your front door, he erases mouth-first. For a split second, he catches that flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, the subtle hesitation that says you’re not sure whether you should give in, but he doesn’t give you the luxury of doubt. You’re here. He’s here. It’s inevitable.

With both of you starved for something—anything—there’s no room for second-guessing. The barren years of your dry spells? Tinder, piled high.

Between fervent kisses, he steals glances at your place, cataloging details. Every corner of your world is his to explore now, but the bedroom is the prize. The view is better here, inside. No longer looking up at some unreachable, untouchable version of you from the outside. He has access now. Control. It’s a quiet triumph that settles in his chest, a thrill he can’t quite suppress. It seeps into his touch, his hands finding the hem of your dress, claiming inch after inch as if he’s laying claim to the territory he’s finally breached.

All it took was a little patience—and a hell of a lot of persistence.

John pushes you until your legs hit the bed, hands dimpling into your hips, half-tucked under your dress. He tugs at the fabric. “Want to take this off f’me, baby?”

“Yeah, okay…”

While your view is obscured by the dress, his eyes roam your bedroom. It’s exactly as he imagined—sophisticated and cozy with shades of rose, peach, and marigold. A collection of framed photos on the bureau he’ll study tomorrow. On your nightstand, a tray with jewelry and lipstick tubes. Dog-eared books—romance, unsurprisingly.

The dress pools at your feet. John takes in the sight of you, his smirk widening. Rubs circles with his thumbs on the skin exposed by the high arches of your deep plum panties.

“You wear this for me?” He abandons the bottoms, touch drifting up to cup your breasts through the matching brassiere. “All dolled up, planning on getting lucky?”

His thumbs roll over your hard nipples, coaxing a gasp from your lips, and your hands fly to his wrists. Not to stop him, but to steady yourself. Your legs tremble, barely holding you up.

“No, it’s not–I didn’t want to assume–“

“Mm.” He hums, eyes half-lidded. “But you hoped.”

Your weak denial dies on your lips when he guides you down, gently but insistently. He maneuvers you like he owns you already, coaxing you to sit, then easing you back until your spine meets the mattress. His hands work their way down your legs, kneading the goose-pimpled skin of your thighs and calves. Each press of his thumbs is purposeful, a silent reminder of who’s in charge now.

And then he sinks lower.

John shoulders between your legs, prostrating himself on the floor, knees hitting the carpet as if this—you—are worth worship. His head dips, lips grazing along the inside of your thigh.

“Easy, love.” His hands are steady as they hook behind your knee, lifting and folding one of your legs over his broad shoulder. The angle opens you up to him and reveals the damp staining the cotton. He sets your other foot on the edge of the bed. “Let me take care of you.”

Your breath hitches, and that’s when he sees it. The moment you let the reins slip.

“Good girl,” he praises. His grin, hidden between your thighs, stretches with a kiss.

Candyfloss sweet, with a pinch of salt.

He called it like he saw it then. He’s smug that it’s true.

Even filtered through the thin barrier of the gusset sopping up its share, you are a wonder on the palate. A delight on the senses. He noses over the slight springiness of the curls trapped underneath, tongue laving over every dip where the fabric clings. Everywhere but where you want him.

“John, John, please,” You’re gasping on the bed, bright whines spilling out. Hands strangling the duvet.

“Need somethin’?” He puffs over your drenched panties, rubbing his rough, bearded cheek on your thigh deliberately. “Gotta ask.”

It’s another minute of torture for you to work it out. It comes out in a whisper. “Take them off, please.”

“There’s a girl. Lift up.”

The panties come away and promptly disappear. In the low light, your cunt’s a mess, shiny with a mix of soaked-in spit and arousal. Perfect like the rest of you.

“Oh,” the single word you manage when John gets his mouth on you unimpeded.

Victory tastes like burnt sugar melting on his tongue, slow and rich, heating into syrup. He groans into your cunt, digging one hand into your thigh to keep it hooked over his shoulder. His other hand wraps around your ankle, anchoring your other foot in place.

You twitch, moans pitching higher and higher, trying to press yourself closer into his mouth. He doesn’t let you. He keeps you right where he wants you—pinned open with every tremor and gasp fueling that molten heat rolling down his spine and thickening his cock.

“Easy, love,” he murmurs, lips brushing skin. His thumb strokes soothing circles over your ankle, a mockery of tenderness compared to the ruthless way he’s devouring you. His tongue works with intent, coaxing you to the edge.

His grip deserts your thigh, and you clench around the finger he slips in while you’re nice and distracted. Lets off your clit with a pop, pulling back to admire your face scrunched in pleasure.

John kisses the crease of your thigh. “This what you’ve been doing all by yourself, baby?” His taunts, dripping with satisfaction as he works you open. “Bet they weren’t enough, were they?”

His smirk deepens when he adds a second, savoring the way your pussy almost sucks them in. When you don’t answer, he stills. “Were they?”

You’re a quick learner. “No, no, they weren’t.”

“Thought so. Gonna give you one more before I fuck you, gonna need it.”

You take the third with a quiet thread of praise. His cock’s pulsing hard against the zipper of his trousers, aching to switch places with his hand. It’s magnetic. The whole world centers on your weeping cunt, squeezing three of his fingers to death with how badly you want to come. It’s a miracle you still haven’t yet, given how you circle the edge. He’s an inkling of what you need, but he won’t let you backpedal.

You speak in front of rooms of lovelorn strangers. You will speak to your man.

He gingerly pumps his fingers into you as deep as they’ll go, curling and petting in all the right places. Your clit twitches, abandoned.

“John–” Yes. “–will you–mouth, please.”

“Hm?”

“My clit, please, need your mouth–”

He’ll work on articulation another time. He dips his head and licks a broad stripe over your neglected bud, then molds his mouth to it. Grunts around it when your fingers thread into hair and tug down.

That’s when the floodgates open, and you finally give into everything you’ve held at arm’s length for too long. Toes curling, muscles tensing, a heel digging into one of his vertebrae. Must be a relief.

John rises to his feet as you come down, knees popping in the silence. He licks his lips, wiping them off on the back of his hand. He towers, intentionally overwhelming and blocking out the room as he looms. Casts a shadow he hopes you feel on every inch of your skin.

He works his belt open while you piece yourself back together, though there’s no point in that. It’s a bright spot when you awkwardly reach behind your back and free your tits without being asked.

A wild look in your eye. Smudged makeup, hair coming unstyled. The loss of composure he’s waited for. Naked hunger in your gaze, eating him up as his clothes hit the floor. You’ve been with boys, sure, but John knows what he looks like. And he looks like a man.

He doesn’t ask about a condom. Gentleman enough he has one in a pocket, but not enough that he’ll do the decent thing and remind you about it.

You squeak in his neck when the steel wool above his cock scrapes your inner thighs. He grinds against you lazily, holding you in the band of his arms to kiss and share your taste.

“It’s a lot, baby,” John warns, rutting himself through the mess between your legs. He swallows hard when he prods your hole with the tip, squeezing the base to warn himself. It notches, your body yielding despite your squirming. Skittish even now. From there it’s a smooth, slow glide.

Still knocks the breath out of the both of you.

“Oh god, John, f-fuck, it’s so–”

Your cunt’s hot as an oven. Wet and fitted for him. Gives in easily now that the right man’s filling it. Knows he’s it for you, meaning it’s only a matter of time for your head and heart to catch up.

His chest and belly meld to yours as he keeps you pinned, hips pushing until they’re flush, and he’s sunken to the hilt, grinding in to claim whatever space is left. “Good girl. Let me in.”

“S’good, big,” you sound delirious, slurring as nonsense tumbles out in a breathless rush.

He barely lifts his hips those first minutes. Warming you up for what’s coming, what he’s been starving for this whole time. Getting an eyeful of your sweet, dumbfounded expression, coming to terms with it. Figuring it all out while your pussy stretches around his cock and greedily swallows it whole.

John readjusts, peeling his sweaty skin from yours, keeping himself pressed deep into the spot that’s got you strangling his cock. His hands wedge under your knees and push, allowing himself to finally build up to his desired pace. An urgency that speaks to his need to usher in the future and slip a ring on you.

“Feel like a dream,” he pants, staring down at the bounce of your tits through half-shut eyes. The smell of sweat and sex and your cunt under his nose. “You’re so pretty like this, sweetheart. Yeah, look good under me.”

You struggle to breathe around his thrusts.

“Knew the moment I saw you, y’know. Took one look and knew. Knew that not a single girl I’d speak to would measure up to you.” His rhythm never faltering. “But you made me work for it, didn’t you?”

You pant, fingers clawing the pillow above your head. “You–You made me work, too–you didn’t come up–ah, that night.”

John laughs, the sound rough as sandpaper, deep and throaty, and it rattles through you. It drives him to push a little harder, to coax more of those desperate sounds out of you. “And look where we are now, baby.”

Tears slip out of your eyes, painting black streams of mascara on your cheeks. You’re wrecked and he’s barely scratched the surface.

You shouldn’t have ever mentioned babies if this isn’t where you wanted to end up.

Your second orgasm builds similarly to the first. Shaking legs, head sinking into the mattress, spine arching. Stars appear in your pupils, shiny under the glass of tears, and lock onto him, transfixed. A whole mess of big feelings. Uncertainty, confusion, disbelief. Fury, ardor. He can tell, despite everything, a part of you does not want to want this. But gravity doesn’t ask permission before it pulls.

He fishes spit out of his cheek and drops it under a thumb on your clit to bring it home.

“Gonna come on my cock, pretty girl? Squeeze me tight?”

“John, I’m gonna–I’m gonna–”

“You can do it, too good of a girl not to–Christ.”

Whatever plea you utter gets lost in a feverish rush and a full-throated moan. You go tight as a vise, clamping down on him as you come. Liquid heat rolls down his spine and his pace turns choppy. Fingers slipping from your knee and clit, taking bruising handfuls of your hips he’ll kiss better later.

He plugs himself deep, coming to a sudden halt to spill. Every muscle in his body goes rigid as he plants himself at the root, filling you in hot, desperate spurts. It goes on longer than he thought it would. You milk it out of him, and it leaves a stringy, sticky mess, tagging over your folds when he reluctantly withdraws.

A whimper sputters from your bitten lips when he lets his drooling tip spew its last over your winking, fucked hole.

The two of you catch your breath in silence.

You said—I don’t know if I’m ready.

He wonders what you’ll say in the morning.

John coaxes a third and final orgasm out of you as he massages his cum back into you, shushing when you cry a little more on his shoulder about it. Whining about it being too much. Same as when he wipes you clean and you go shy on him. Only cracking your legs open again when he reminds you how proud he is of you for taking him so well. For everything.

He waits until you’re deeply asleep, mouth slightly open, completely immovable, to climb out of bed.

He pads through your flat bare like he owns the place. A glass of water to keep him company as he leisurely tours.

Your work bag sits, still packed, next to your desk at the window. He kicks it under. This will be the first weekend you don’t lift a finger if he has his way.

At least. Not in the service of others.

John stares at the pill case on your bathroom vanity as he empties his bladder. His next hurdle.

He’ll let you keep your job. It makes you happy, and he’s not so cruel to take that from you. But if you ever change your mind, if your investment in it wavers, he won’t stop you. Between his pay and benefits, the handyman business—he’s more than capable of providing for the two of you. And when the time comes for more, when you need to feed, clothe, and house his whelps, he’ll take care of that too.

After all, there’s very little he’s set his mind to that he hasn’t achieved.

#price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x you #price x you #f!reader #meet your match #posting and blasting off

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kissmaybank · 29 days ago

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DILF!RAFE CAMERON

dilf!cameron being the richest motherfucker in the neighborhood, and generous as hell. a little calmer due to growing in age, yet he's still wild from his younger years. father of a younger daughter named angelene, rafe developed more of a softer side for the women in his life, despite his failing relationship with the mother of his child—which is where you come in.

dilf!cameron didn't expect to fall for a younger girl, let alone someone that could have passed for his daughter, or even a babysitter for his little girl. though when he realized it, he did nothing to stop it. even when topper and kelce questioned it, he didn't care.

topper, two whiskey glasses deep and curious. "i don't know man, she's hot and all, but..."

kelce chimed in. "she's young as hell, probably childish."

rafe let it go in the ear and out the other. "since when do you two know anything about love? kelce, i don't remember the last time you had a girlfriend and topper, last time i checked, you got left for a pogue...twice."

dilf!cameron who pours all his love into you—spoiling you with whatever you want, planning dates (despite the suspicion from the woman thats still his wife), and carving out large chunks of time just for you. there's nothing he won't do for the girl that drives the beverage cart at the country club. which once you're his, of course he wants you to quit and let him take care of you full time. always the possessive type, rafe does not want other men undressing you with their eyes the way he does. he practically seethes whenever he sees other dirty, old silver foxes, tipping you large amounts and flirting like they haven't had pussy in years.

dilf!cameron being the typical, dominant man. does not let you take control during sex. he wants you obedient, even if you act bratty at first. he'll always remind you who's in control. loves, loves to throat fuck you til' you can't handle it—he will never miss the chance to stuff your mouth full, especially when you're running that sweet little mouth he so desperately enjoys. with him, rafe never gets tired. he'll fuck you so long as you're begging for it, and goes crazy whenever he puts you in doggy. smacking your ass to watch it bounce back, a sharp sting marking it as he shoves himself into your cunt from behind you. calls you pet names like "princess" or "sweet girl."

dilf!cameron who never fails to give aftercare. caters to you every chance he gets. running hot baths, ordering take out and watching your favorite movies while you sit in his lap. the rafe that loves the small domestic things you do for him—cooking him dinner, wearing those little lingerie sets he likes, and he's willing to do anything, everything to keep you; especially when he knows you won't settle for being a secret. if he's gonna love you, he's gonna do it proudly.

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manmuncher777 · 6 months ago

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Helping hand

Roommate Gojo x reader SMUT MDNI 18+

✧.* when you come home reeling from sexual frustration, your roommate is more than willing to offer some help

Roommate!Gojo who sends you off on your date with a pang of jealousy ripping its way through his body. Why couldn’t you be dressing up like that to spend the night with him. He knew you were excited, this was the most you’d dressed up in a long time, your hair sitting do perfect after the hours he watched you spend on it. The outfit you chose showing your figure in a way that had him clenching a fist, trying not to reach out and let his fingers dance over your exposed skin. That intoxicating perfume filling his nose as he stood so close, wishing you a good night before the door finally shut, and the only trace left behind was the small waves of your sweet scent still lingering in the air

Roommate!Gojo who is confused when he hears your keys in the door just 2 hours later, he wasnt even expecting you back tonight.

Roommate!Gojo rushing to your side when he sees your pretty face puffed up with tears, concern lacing his tone. Utter joy racing through him in reality, but he was still sad to see you so upset

Roommate!Gojo who listened to youn blubber and rant about how this was your first date in a long time and how you just wanted a nice night. He listened to you rant about how much an asshole the guy was all while stoking your hair and kissing your head as you sat wrapped up in his arms

Roommate!Gojo who almost died then and there when he heard you complain how men were shit and you “just wanted to get laid”

“that might be something I can help with gorgeous” he whispered before anything could stop him, His reaction basically automatic

Roommate!Gojo who had your crying for a nothing reason a few moment later as he was burying himself between heaven you thighs. Hot tears streamed down your face as the mans thick tongue worked his way through your folds, playing with your little bundle of nerves. Small whimpers leaving his throat as your taste made him rock hard. His hands gripping your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him so he could see you in all your glory “Pretty girl, if you were needing to cum all you had to do was ask me” his syrupy voice rang out in your fucked out head in between his vulgar licks of your dripping cunt “That asshole didnt deserve to see you so pretty” he whispered into your cunt. “I had half a mind to drag you back in a fuck you against the door seeing you dressed like that”

His words rippling over your, breaking you more and more. You had no choice but to listen to him as he teased and taunted you.

You couldn’t even bother yourself to respond, not after his fingers slid into your cunt so easily, the squelch of your wetness echoing in the room.

Roommate!Gojo who couldn’t wait to get his throbbing cock inside that needy little pussy of yours. He’d thought of this moment for months and he wasn’t quite sure how it was actually happening.

Roommate!Gojo who had you naked and spread over his bed right now, looking at your fucked out features. Your skin laced with sweat, your hair still beautifully framing face, those tits hed spent so many night imagining while he fucked his fist now open for him to see, all marked from his touch. That beautiful cunt of yours dripping from the orgasms he had already pulled out of it, and yet you were still begging him for more

“please Satoru, I need you” you whined so sweetly beneath him and he teased his red leaking tip through your folds, coating himself I your slick. He soothed you, kissing your head gently “It’s okay pretty girl, ill give you whatever you need” he promised before lining himself up with your fluttering entrance and sinking himself deep inside.

The moan that left him was sinful as he bottomed out inside of you, you felt amazing wrapped around his cock, even better then he imagined.

Roommate!Gojo who couldn’t hold himself back for long, soon he was pistoning himself in and out of your sopping pussy, moaning incoherently abut how good you felt. You were more then happy to lay there and take every inch, every thrust he was giving you. Your mind so far gone you couldn’t do much more then whimper and moan and every move he made, his thick cock hitting that delicious part of your velvety walls with every stroke. Your eyes rolling back as your nails dragged red lines down his back

“There she is, theres my pretty girl” “cant believe all you needed was a good fucking sweetheart, all you had to do was ask” “been thinking about this tight little pussy for ages” “come on baby, take it, this is what you where begging for” “such a good girl for me, taking it so well” “awh, you like this don’t you? filthy girl”

Roommate!Gojo who was a stuttering mess, his head falling into your shoulders as his hips never stopped their brutal pace, his balls slapping against you with each thrust. It wasnt long before he had you cumming again that night. Your wall squeezing him tight as you flooded his perfect skin with you juices. You could do nothing but moan his name, so sweetly in his ear that his orgasm hit him as well. His balls tightening as he fucked him cum deep into you. His pushing himself deeper with each finishing thrust. A deep groan coming from his chest as his hips faultered and finally stopped. Both of you lying there, panting.

“next time you need a good fuck princess, let me know” he whispered into you ear

You wouldve hit the smug bastard if you werent so sure that you would be taking him up on his offer again the next day

#gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic #jjk satoru #gojo saturo #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu satoru #satoru smut #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo

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nanaslutt · 1 year ago

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welcome to my smau list!! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

౨ৎ feel free to send an ask to my inbox if u have an idea for a smau (no suggestive prompts for under 18 characters) ౨ৎ

jjk smaus

✿ asking jjk men if you can hold their 🍆 while they pee

✿ showing the jjk men ur new piercings

✿ asking the jjk men if you can peg them

✿ changing “babe” to autocorrect to “whore” in their phone

✿ “shes busy rn”

✿ leaving without telling the jjk guys

✿ “he’s busy rn”

✿ getting ur nails the color of their tip

✿ forbidden relationships

✿ drawing a heart with their tip

✿ baby fever

✿ drunk texting the jjk men

✿ jjk men having a wet dream about you

✿ asking them for a hand pic

✿ jjk mean reacting to their contact name

✿ asking jjk characters what their fav sex act is

✿ telling the jjk guys you spent $200 on tire air

✿ “wrong person” nudes prank

✿ jjk characters reactions to you getting harassed/ hit in

✿ jjk characters finding out you got injured

✿ ass or tits

✿ giving them suprise flowers

✿ asking the jjk characters to take your virginity

✿ telling the jjk characters you want to get them pregnant

✿ getting flowers from someone else and thinking it was from them

✿ getting jealous of you hanging out with someone else

✿ stealing your panties

✿ cuddles after sex

✿ innapropreate package mixup

✿ wax my 😽

✿ sending them porn you wanna recreate

✿ when they drunk text you

✿ them asking you on a date for the first time

✿ sending nudes in the middle of an argument

✿ getting a necklace with their initial

✿ being a woman/man for a day question

✿ controlling your bluetooth vibe

✿ when you leave a kiss mark on them

✿ asking you to stay the night for the first time

✿ the call ending after you fall

✿ “they just left you can come over now”

✿“if i gave you a pass to call me a bitch how would you use it”

✿ “i didn’t finish last night“ prank

✿“i got arrested”

✿ when they find ur smut

✿ editing them to look bad in a photo

✿ accidentally sending them nudes (pre relationship)

✿ the jjk characters sending you gym pics

✿ getting scared watching a scary movie

✿ finding out they punched ur stuffed animals

✿ when they see you in someone else’s jacket

✿ asking them their fav pet name is in bed

✿ when you start your period unprepared

✿ when you see them with another girls belongings

✿ asking them if they like having sex with you

✿ asking them for happy trail pics

✿ when they ask for nudes and you send an unsuggestive pic

✿ asking them if they have a crush on you

✿ when they find ur toy

✿ anxious before ur wedding

✿ taking pics of you when you fall asleep

✿ asking them for a whimper audio

✿ when they cheat on you

✿ having a dream they cheated on you

✿ when they get hit on/harassed

✿ the morning after ur first time having sex

✿ accidentally saying i love you for the first time before ending the call

✿ asking them if they only like you for sex

✿ offering them head to relax them

✿ asking them to kill a spider for you

✿ their reactions to a sexy picture you posted

✿ pregnancy scary

✿ ”sex has been boring” prank

✿ their card declined prank

✿ getting lost in public

✿ asking them if you can stack donuts on it

✿ asking them to pick out a new toy for you

✿ waking up in their body

✿ them reacting to you crying over a dumb video

✿ catching them masturbating

✿ getting a noise complaint

✿ when they catch you masturbating

✿ when they catch you singing

✿ finding a hair that isn’t urs

✿ telling them their nut tastes bad

✿ trying anal

✿ comforting you when you’re burnt out

✿ when they take an aphrodisiac

✿ asking them to find ur 😽 in a lineup

✿ asking them how much money they have

✿ asking about a threesome

✿ what’s their sexual fantasy?

✿ asking them if they’ll put it in soft

✿ slapping their ass and running away

✿ asking them for their friends number

✿ selling their stuff online prank

✿ asking if they’d get a genital piercing

✿ making them sleep on the couch

✿ asking what their body count is

✿ asking them to give you a hickey

#nanaslutt #made a separate list so it was easier to find :3

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wild-jackalope · 10 months ago

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First time having sex is awkward!

pairing :: Virgin!Megumi x Virgin!Reader

warning :: college/university AU, awkward sex, safe sex (finally), lingerie stuff, fingering, slight overstim, very soft, would you hate me if I said this wasn’t rly proof read, need this out of my drafts asap

note :: very inspired by @sonotpattismith fic Hold Me And Explore Me, here’s the link!

For the years you’ve been friends with Megumi you’ve never ever known him to discuss a single intimate topic. For the five months you’ve been in a relationship with him, that fact never changed.

Megumi was a prude, basically.

It wasn’t as though you were one to spill secrets about your personal moments either. Occasionally you’d let the odd story slip when drunk (mainly letting loose some poor experiences being felt up during your younger years of dating), but other than that, you kept your mouth shut.

So when Maki asked you a completely out of pocket question, both you and your boyfriend turned to ice.

“Have the two of you even fucked yet?”

No. Of course you haven’t. You hadn’t even come close! Despite the air being thickened by everyone’s collective drunkenness, you felt a small part of you would resent Maki for the rest of your life after putting you in this situation.

Your jaw slacked open and you took in a breath. The truth lilting on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t ask personal questions like that.” Megumi cut, to everyone’s collective disappointment, they groaned. Somewhat tipsy himself, Megumi still had the clarity to get the others off your scent and thankfully his harsh words had sent them on another chatting spree devoid of your sex life.

Maki, keen gaze still locked on both you and Megumi, muttered a swift. “Guess you haven’t put that set to use, huh.” Before taking a sip of her vodka mix.

You flushed immediately, embarrassment mixing with the warm alcohol in your bloodstream, coating your cheeks a deep plum colour. Mortification filling your wide eyes, you glanced at Megumi who held an unbothered expression, one of boredom and calm.

But for a split second, his dark blues swiped over you and you caught the slightest hint of curiosity in his narrow gaze. What set?

You snapped your head forward, neck aching from the whiplash.

The ‘set’ Maki was referring to, was bought during a shopping trip Nobara invited both of you to. She needed a refill on her skincare items, Maki needed a new set of sports bras and you needed an excuse to leave your dorm room.

Maki’s chosen store was the closest, so the three of you headed there first. Inside, your eyes caught on the walls covered with expensive underwear made of lace and silk hanging on thin mannequins.

“I should get a new bra, too, my favourites are getting worn out.” Nobara mumbled, looking at the odd racks assembled by colour and size.

A particularly captivating bodysuit grabbed your attention; a smooth ivory piece decorated with straps and shining gemstones, having tuffs of silk peak out of the sides like a skirt and wings. The shiny fabric called to rest comfortably against your skin. It was the most expensive, being shown off at the front of the store to lure young women who wanted to wrap their pretty bodies and show off to their boyfriends. Just like you.

“That one’s too cutesy.” Nobara uttered, following your tranced gaze. “Lingerie is a scam anyway, truth is men don’t even care. They just take it off.”

That was right, Nobara had had sex. Unlike you.

“Would you… help me pick something nice out?” You asked, a gentle and shy invitation.

Despite her previous slander of lingerie, her cheeks glowed in excitement. “Sure. For you and Fushiguro, right?”

“I guess so.” You kindly but nervously replied. Nobara lead you deeper into the store, coming to a back wall with more designs, all notably darker with plenty more lace.

She gazed over the options. “What do you usually like to wear?” She asked.

“I don’t know— nothing?” You responded, awkward hand lifting to fiddle with a purple bralet.

Nobara side eyed you, giving a suspicious look before she asked— much too casually. “First time?”

“Yes.” You nodded, the fabric of the bralet suddenly becoming very interesting!

“First time with Fushiguro, or?” Her trail lilted delicately, hopefully displaying herself as a safe person to spill your secrets to.

“First, first time.” You uttered quietly.

In a quick swish, Nobara grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to her. “Seriously?” She asked.

“Yes, seriously. Is it hard to believe?” You frowned, too mortified for her questioning.

She nodded. “Yes! You’re a total catch.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve never done anything.” You added, hands defensively rising to your chest. “I’ve been in relationships before, I’ve—” you lowered your voice. “I’ve fooled around.”

“Oh I bet you have.” She added, grin replacing her surprised gape.

“Stop it, you’re so embarrassing.” You pushed against her shoulder, freeing yourself from her death grip.

“Okay, first set, first set.” Mind now back to the mission, she returned to the racks of bras and thongs. “You should have something simple, but sexy. Black, too.”

“Why black?” Plenty of other colours filled the store.

“Fushiguro likes dark things, so he’ll like black on you.” The sensible explanation left her with a shrug.

Would that really be the case? Would Megumi look at your body being cupped by expensive black fabric and yearn for you? You could hardly imagine it. Megumi was never eager for anything, he was the type of guy to react to things with tame calmness. Would he blush? Reach to touch you? Kiss you?

Nobara handed you a neat, black matching bra and thong. “Go try this on.” She instructed, offering you an encouraging smile.

Face to face with your lewdly dressed body and flushed expression in the dressing room only made your anxiousness grow. Nobara had picked a beautiful set, a nicely patterned lace bra broken up by thick black straps pushed up your boobs, coined by a gemstone hanging off the middle. Small ripples of black sheer peaked from the supportive boning, similarly decorating the thin black straps curving around your hips holding up the lacy thong which too, had a gemstone hanging off the centre.

Fuck, Nobara had good taste.

But despite the fact you bought the matching underwear a month ago, nothing came of it. You’d worn it every single time you saw Megumi; a casual date at the park, an afternoon out at the movies, a night in lounging around. Just in case, you had thought, just in case something happens.

And because you wore them everytime you saw Megumi, they clung to your body now, at the very party Maki judged you for not having shown them off yet.

You sipped at your bitter alcohol mix, avoiding both the stares of your boyfriend and your friend. Nobara’s chanting became a welcome distraction, telling Yuji to ‘drink drink drink!’ Down his can of rum. Everyone cheered at his final gulp, including you.

Megumi, however, remained silent.

When the night came to a tired end (at about two in the morning), Megumi and yourself walked to your dorm in a sobering stumbled.

Arms around his neck, you brought Megumi into the plush bed with you, planting messy kisses along his hairline and laughing about the mischief of the night. “Itadori is going to be so hungover.” You muttered.

“Hm.” He thoughtlessly replied, craning his head so your lips made contact with his instead. He leaned over you, slowly letting his body sink into yours and sandwiching you between the bed and him.

In these moments of privacy you felt closest to Megumi. He’d unabashedly pull you in, kiss you and hold you tight.

You hummed against his lips, bringing your hands up to rake your nails through his hair, a trick you knew would immediately cause him to go soft against you, and he did, waist falling between your legs and hands twitching against your sides. He groaned softly and you wished you could record the sound and add it to a private playlist.

Chasing the mild heat in your abdomen, you furthered the kisses shared, moving into making out instead of peppery pecks. He followed you, daring to nip at your bottom lip (a habit he’d picked up from the one time you did it to him).

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling his warmth in closer. That shift was what made both your clothed sexes connect. Jolted by the feeling, Megumi slipped from your lips to your ear, whispering a breathy command.

“Show me your set.”

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was asking, but he had an idea, a lewd idea. He knew he needed to know what Maki was talking about, what she knew about his girlfriend that he didn’t.

You gulped, an audible squeak catching in your throat. “You really want to see?” You asked.

He nodded silently, watching your every move as you hesitantly lifted your shirt up and over your head. His narrow eyes grew wide at the sight of your tits cupped by the stunning black garment. You hid in the pillow behind you, digging half your face into the plush at his bewildered expression.

Megumi’s hand had already began moving without him thinking. In what seemed like slow motion, his large palm came to fit around your boob. His thumb rubbed over the soft lace and because of its thin fabric, you gasped as it tickled your sensitive middle.

The noise sobered Megumi from his drunk, tranced state and he pulled his hand away like it had acted on its own free will. He sat up, eyes concentrated on your flushed, messy figure. Fuck, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“I should go.” He uttered softly, pressing a curt kiss to your head.

“What? But—” You babbled something, voice cracking.

“This isn’t a good time, it’s late, you’re drunk.” He reassured your rejection with another kiss.

“You won’t stay?” You asked, leaving you as more of a plea.

“Not tonight.” He finished. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You were then left empty and cold, and despite wrapping yourself in layers of blankets, you felt as naked as ever. The question what was wrong with you? Pulling you into a drunkenly tear filled sleep.

The next morning, the barking of your third alarm pulled you from your slumber. You smacked at the screen of your phone, lifting your now throbbing head from the sweet embrace of your pillow.

Almost immediately Megumi’s rejection of you last night reminded you why your eyes were so crusty with dried tears. However, you didn’t have much time to linger on it, already being late for your morning lecture.

Lunch was when you saw Megumi next. You were reading over your papers in the yard with a furrowed brow, your phone to your ear.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” You asked.

“I mean I don’t know! You’ve know Fushiguro pretty much the same amount of time I have, why don’t you know if he’s had sex?” Nobara snapped back, voice slightly fuzzy through your phone. “Oh, let’s not forget the fact you’re also his girlfriend!”

“I know, I just— ugh. Why is this so complicated?” You huffed.

“It really isn’t, girl. You’re just making it complicated.” She added back, unfiltered judgment in her tone.

“I know, I know.” You were weak before her unwavering moral superiority.

“Talk to him. Neither of you did anything wrong, he was probably still drunk and didn’t want to show you he had whisky dick or maybe he is a virgin and was just too nervous to fuck you.” You wondered for a brief moment who Nobara was around that could hear her talk about your (lack of) sex life.

“I doubt it.” You murmured. Finally your eyes caught the tall shadow that was Megumi and you fiddle to catch your phone as it dropped from your hand. “I gotta go, he’s here. Bye!”

One hand deep in his pocket and the other carrying a bag bloated with book, Megumi walked to you, standing tall over your sitting self.

“Nobara?” He asked, head jutting towards your phone.

“Yup, she uh— just won’t stop calling me.” You breathily laughed, stupidly covering the fact you had been the one calling her nonstop.

His careful eyes surveyed you, immediately grabbing something was amiss. “Hungover?”

Lord knew you weren’t going to bring up last night if he didn’t. You’d rather let it die in the past. “I was this morning, but I’m alright now.” You offered a kind, but forced smile. “You okay?” You returned, gazing up at him.

With the baggy top you’d hurriedly put on this morning, Megumi could see past the collar, eyes catching the familiar black bra. You were so rushed this morning, you didn’t have time to change it. His heart squeezed painfully, hand twitching as it recalled the feeling of the fabric. The same hand that fucked his dick until he came thinking of you once he was alone. Fuck, he was pathetic. “I’m fine.” He gritted. Even through the drunk haze of the prior night, that memory of you below him was as clear as day in his mind.

“You’ve got baseball this afternoon, right? Do you want to come over afterwards?” You asked.

“I can, why?” So you could show him more of your gorgeous body?

“Just to hangout, n’ chat.” You added, as casually as possible. Technically you weren’t lying.

“I’ll come.” He assured. His hands lifted to touch you, but Megumi decided better, shoving it back into his pocket. “Will I see you at practice?”

“I’ll be there.” You smiled.

You’d watched Megumi play baseball since he was young, having been one of his biggest supporters (besides Gojo, of course) since you two became friends. You’d love to watch him play, sitting on a nearby bench with a book to read or your computer to finish an assignment.

Megumi had never admitted it out loud, but before each swing of his bat, he’d gaze out into the empty audience chairs to catch a glimpse of you. You were always there, always looking at him.

It never failed to make his heart swell, even after the two of you began dating, seeing you sit there just for him was the kind of loyalty that made Megumi obsessed with you.

Today, though, it seemed Megumi had more on his mind than he usually did. It was so obvious in the way he played. He was distracted.

On the walk back to your dorm, you could tell he was clearly unimpressed by himself.

Once inside, you excused yourself to the bathroom just to freshen up.

Reflecting from your mirror like a ghost haunting you, hung your cleanly washed thong. Now dry and ready to be worn. Maybe, just maybe, finally ready to be seen. The old habit still clawed you, just in case, you thought, just in case something happens.

You slipped out of the bathroom, a sudden nervousness taking you. “Hey, can we talk?” You asked, finding a seat next to Megumi on your bed.

His furrowed expression disappeared the moment he heard your tone and his eyes lifted to you expectantly. You inhaled.

“I’ve got to tell you something.” You stated, voice wavering despite your desire to sound sure.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a virgin.” You finally uttered.

“Oh, okay.” You could hear in his voice, the slightest hint of bewilderment. Mostly at the suddenness.

“I’ve never had a dick in me, okay? So I’m nervous.” You let the words out like Megumi had you tied up, forcing a confession out of you. A tight pause filled the air as you let the weight of your secret fill the room.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I’ve had sex, either.” Megumi’s narrow eyes squinted at his furrowed brow. His cheeks tinted pink, clearly out of his comfort zone to admit this.

“You haven’t?” You felt free of an imaginary weight that lifted from your chest.

“Yes? You’ve been my only girlfriend, I assumed you would’ve just guessed.”

“So nothing? No hookups or anything?”

“Not my thing.”

Your chest bubbled with a freeing excitement. You’d have to thank Nobara later and let her know she’s the goddess of advice. “Thank God, I was so worried.” You exhaled.

“Worried?” His hand came to grasp your arm. Had he seriously done something to make you worry?

“When you left last night, I thought I did something wrong or—”

Fuck. Of course. “No, you didn’t.” He squeezed your arm. He was just an idiot, a drunk, horny idiot. “It was the alcohol, I didn’t think it was a good idea. You didn’t do anything. You were perfect.” His eyes avoided you, cheeks growing darker.

Was he embarrassed? You kissed his jaw, eagerly planting a peck free of doubt.

The kiss seemed to break him from his mumbling as he adjusted your aim, pulling your chin up and kissing your lips. He kissed you again, and you could feel it in his affection too, an excitement to explore you, be the first to learn your body.

To reach his lips better, you moved to straddle Megumi, planting yourself on his lap and letting yourself be enveloped by his affection.

He pulled you down with him as his back fell into the mattress and as you rocked on his lap, you felt the line of his dick through his pants.

Then reality hit you. You two were going to do it. You sat up, blinking at the boy beneath you.

“…Hey.” You peeped, a stupid joking tone wrapping your words.

“Hey.” Megumi replied, his own words threaded with dull awkwardness.

“Do you.. come here often?” You continued, hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

He exhaled sharply, amused. “I do.”

“Same.” You nodded slowly. Another flustered moment of silence passed over you.

Megumi’s mind seemed clouded and unbothered by the pause, eyes becoming focused on your shirt. You could guess what he was thinking about.

“I’m wearing it again.” You muttered. His eyes flickered to you, holding an intense gaze you’d only seen him have in serious situations of concentration. “Do you want to see?”

His jaw clenched, and he nodded once. “Yes.”

You offered your shirt to him, prompting him to be the one to take it off you. His thick hands took the fabric, slowly pulling it up and over your head. His eyes caught on the black set again. Now, his gaze weakened, still tense but clouded by a soft desire.

Finally letting in to what he really wanted to do to you the previous night, Megumi sat up, cradling your abdomen to keep you stilled on top of him as he pressed a kiss to the skin that spilled out of your bra. He lightly sucked, no doubt hoping to leave a red mark.

“Megumi.” You softly murmured. The sound pricked his ears like a melody. He continued, more driven kissing and sucking up until he reached your collar bone and cheek.

Face just below your own, Megumi gazed up at you with his usually bored eyes, but currently they were anything but, holding a softness for you that could only be explained away by love. Riddle in the blue of his irises held the deep specks of lust. You wanted more, wanted to see his eyes flutter from pleasure.

Megumi’s thoughts similarly danced along the same trail as your own but despite his somewhat tame expression they were nasty compared to your own. Mostly, they lingered south. His fingers hooked the sides of your pants.

“I want to see the bottom pair.” He murmured, fierce eyes pinning you to his command.

“O-Okay.” You shyly huffed, moving back so Megumi could undress you with more ease. His eyes lingered on your own as he slid off your bottoms, like a boy closing his eyes as he opened his birthday gift so he could be more surprised by the reveal of it fully unwrapped in front of him. As much as you wanted to shy from his gaze, you couldn’t.

Finally your pants were off, tossed off the bed with your shirt. You watched his gaze flicker to your thong, and you shivered at the exposure. He leaned in, hands resting on your knees in an attempt to let you know he wanted them open, you didn’t comply, far too embarrassed. “Pretty.” He muttered. The swarm of butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncontrollably.

One of his hands snaked down your thigh, coming to grasp the gemstone hanging from the front strap. He twisted it between his thumb and index finger, and you badly wished it he’d play with your clit like that.

Then, his hand dragged over the lace fabric, so dangerously close to your bundle of nerves that your legs creaked opened on pure instinct. Megumi huffed at your bodies desire to be touched, taking the moment of weakness to slip himself between your legs.

Lower now, his fingers dared to slide over your clit. You gasped and his hand stunted.

“Feel okay?” He breathed, lust kissed eyes glowering at you. Don’t make him stop, not yet. Not when he was finally able to feel you.

“Feels good.” You murmured. Megumi’s jaw slacked and he panted a suppressed grunt at your pathetic words. Almost immediately he continued the motion, familiarising himself with what spots of your cunt would made you hiccup and your tummy twitch. “M-Megumi.” You whined with no real purpose behind your plea.

Hot, it was becoming too hot. He left your pussy for a second, pulling off his shirt and tossing it like he had your pants. Your cheeks blazed at his thin but muscled body. You’d only ever caught sight of his abs on a windy day, never had you seen his bare chest before. His skin was so smooth and light, your fingers begged to memories each curve and bump.

He closed the space between you, coming to press messy pecks on your lips whilst his hand returned to your cunt. Your hands rested against his thudding chest, letting yourself fall into the bedding.

“I can feel your heart beat.” You huffed, somewhat excited by the rapid pace. “Nervous?” You asked, a teasing prod.

“Eager.” He corrected, collecting your lips in another kiss.

His ring and index calmly slid up and down, the tips of his fingers daring over the patch of wet forming around your sex. You wanted to do the same, wanted so desperately to feel more of his body, but your nails stilled, dug into his chest waiting for some kind of permission you couldn’t even ask for.

And Megumi, the utter mind reader, took your wrist with his free hand and led you on a trail down his abdomen. He must’ve felt your hesitancy and made the move for you, that, or he was desperate to feel your hands wander over his body.

And your featherlight fingers curved over the dips of his abs. In reaction to your sweet touch, you felt his rubbing become messy and he pressed hard against your clit. You gasped into his mouth, nails scraping against his tight stomach and his jaw clenched tight, swallowing a grunt.

“More, Megs, please.” You blurted, hole dripping and utterly prepped for whatever Megumi wanted to stuff inside you.

He remained somewhat levelheaded, thinking that if he fucked you now, he’d cum too quick and this would be all over. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you unsatisfied. So despite his aching cock, his fingers dipped under your thong and circled your weeping cunt. He was going to savour every single second.

Slowly, he pushed past the rings of your wet chasm. And fuck. His fingers and dick must’ve been connected, because he could’ve sworn he felt the ghost of your inside around him just like they were around his fingers.

His cock twitched, leaking a fat blob of precum. “Shit.” The way your pussy jumped at his curse didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh God— Megumi, hng.” Your legs weakened, turning to jelly at the feeling of his warm fingers pressing against your tight, sensitive walls. Megumi’s two digits were thicker and rugged from gripping a bat all his life, the perfect size and texture against your trembling insides and otherworldly compared to your own.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yea— mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut, hands hesitating over Megumi’s torso until they gripped his tensed arms.

His mouth hung open, too distracted by massaging your insides to dedicate his lips to you. Hot pants filled your mouth as you desperately kissed him, each breath of his slowly filling with grunts to the symphony of your whines. Each moan from you battered his dick, making it pulse painfully for you.

His fingers chased your twitching hips, pushing in deeper each time you squirmed from the sensation. Until the tips of his fingers slid against the spongey sweet spot inside of you that was hidden in the curve of your chasm.

“Right there!” You squealed, the hight of your voice surprising both of you. “Curl your fingers— Mh! just like that.”

He did so, pushing his digits against the sweet spot, lightly pressing and smoothing over the area. You trembled beneath him, clinging to his body like he was your life support.

Megumi loved every second of it, watching your body contort from just his fingers. He just wanted to watch you like this, utterly drunk on pleasure, for forever.

He wanted to make cum so badly it was driving him mad.

“Ohh, please don’t stop.” How could he? Your pussy had just begun clenching around him so gorgeously, tightening like the building orgasm inside you.

Megumi had only realised you’d cum after you yelped his name and your walls sucked on his fingers, trying to milk them of cum. He wanted so badly to feel the sensation around his cock.

“Hng— thank you, thank you.” You babbled embarrassingly, kissing along Megumi’s throat.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, the lack of you around his dick, uncomfortably he palmed his boxers, trying to adjusted his blood filled cock.

The trance of afterglow seemed to subside as you gazed over Megumi’s frustration. Although you were undone, you still craved more of him inside your fuzzy chasm. “More?” You asked, an invitation.

Megumi nodded, thanking the heavens you weren’t done with him. His hand dug into the wallet in his pant pocket, digging out a condom. He pulled it out, half pruned fingers covered in your slick attempting to tear it open.

It was like you’d been slapped in the face with the curt realisation that he had prepared for this. Just as you went to buy lingerie, Megumi had gone and bought condoms. He must’ve thought it could’ve happened at any moment to keep one in his wallet.

He brought the wrapper to his teeth, being frustrated with his inability to open it and tore it open with his clenched teeth. You sucked in a breath at his flimsy eagerness.

The bashfulness that came with revealing himself seemed to skip Megumi’s mind, as he pulled down his baggy pants to let his leaking cock free of the fabric.

Your eyes shot up to the ceiling, needing to look elsewhere as you heard him slide on the plastic birth control. From the glimpse you did catch you could tell he was thin and long. Your attention dived back down once you left a gentle hand rest on your hip, his thumb rubbing over the bone.

His eyes, once you met them, held a simple question; are you ready?

You nodded, closing your eyelids and bracing for his length. However the feeling never came, only his lips as they trailed from your tummy, over your bra and up to your lips.

Your hands cradled his head, nails dragging across his scalp and he grunted. This felt familiar, the feeling of his body softening against yours as you pressed simple kisses onto one another’s lips. Through the intimacy, you felt Megumi readjust, pulling your underwear to the side and lining his tip against your sopping sex.

Closer now, you hugged him through the stress. He slowly sunk into you, the plastic of the condom feeling cool against your hot insides. “Fuck.” He hissed, nipping at your bottom lip.

You sobbed, letting the sensation of being filled by your boyfriend feed your mouth with curses.

He entered slowly, just as much for you as it was for him. His face, flushed red and eyes fluttering in pleasure. You not far from the same, mouth agape with lewd noises spewing out.

He bottomed out when your hips met, taking a brief minute to calm your collective gasps. You gazed down, drowsily taking in the enrapturing sight of you two being connected. Megumi moaned weakly at your smitten stare, feeling himself fall apart from inside you.

“S’okay?” He asked.

“Y-Yes, you can move.” You permitted desperately.

He drawled his hips out carefully, rolling inwards again. Your insides still buzzed from his fingers, raw and sensitive to his filling cock. He could feel you spasm around him, forcing friction when he desperately needed you to be still so he didn’t cum prematurely.

Another breathless curse left him as his length dived back into you. “Oh fuck— I love you.” You gaped at the words, wondering suddenly was that the first time he’s ever said that?

He rolled his hips again, breaking up your quick declaration. “Love— mh— you.”

He cradled you, pulling your body in with his unlikely strength as he fucked you gently. You’d never felt so close to another person before, having him so deep within you, filling your body with pleasure.

Megumi had lost most of his composure, becoming a vocal mess as he humped into your heavenly insides.

“So tight.” He uttered into your skin. “S’perfect.” He kissed your skin, sucking hard hickies into your chest and neck.

“Mnh— love you, hng.” You repeated, too cock drunk to babble anything else.

Messier now, his hip rolls became somewhat frantic, chasing the building mountain of his orgasm. “S-Shit— I’m gonna cum.” The statement rolled off his tongue in a pathetic whine, another crack from his usual composure.

“Don’t s-stop! Please, Gumi ahh.” You were already being worked to your second orgasm, you couldn’t bare to be emptied of him before you reached your high. Your legs wrapped around him, keeping Megumi in.

“Ngh— fffuck.” He plowed harder now, his cock tip perfectly fucking against your sweet spot. Suddenly his tame thrusts became a stuttering mess as he muffled your name into your shoulder.

You could feel him orgasm, feel his cock jerk, feel his cum bloat the tip of the condom inside you.

Noticing him slow, you rolled your hips, desperately fucking yourself onto his mid-orgasm dick.

His hands smack at your sides, attempting you to pull you off his overstimulated dick.

“Almost almost almost—” You pleaded.

With what he had left in him, Megumi took your hips and helped you grind yourself on his cock. He bit your shoulder, muffling the pained moans leaving him.

“Fuck!” You squeaked, his dick slid over your g-spot again, finally bringing you to your spine tingling orgasm. Your insides spasmed around Megumi’s dick, and he whined at the feeling, growing painfully hard again.

Your body went limp, as did the tight hold you had on Megumi. Both your bodies sat panting, utterly fucked out and glistening with sweat.

Raising from you, Megumi looked over your flushed, messy state, his cock still warm fitted inside you. He savoured the sight, thinking that if he could take a photo of this, he’d keep it in his wallet.

“We should shower.” He murmured, painting kisses along your shoulder.

“Mhm, okay.” You nodded.

Fuzzy insides retracting as Megumi slipped from you, you sighed longingly, whilst he grunted, disappointed he couldn’t live inside you.

You groggily sat up, kissing him before attempting to move off the bed but Megumi kept you back, hooking a finger around the strap of your bra.

“How much was the set?” He asked.

“Uhm, not much, Nobara helped me pay for it so—”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

The heat that had just left your cheeks suddenly returned.

#jjk #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi #Fushiguro Megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi fushiguro x you #Jjk smut

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witchywithwhiskey · 11 months ago

Text

room for one more

pairing: movie star!bucky barnes x female reader x movie star!steve rogers

summary: you meet your boyfriend's best friend for the first time, and he perfectly matches the energy of your relationship. then, what was meant to be a fun night for the three of you, turns into something more.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, threesome, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f and m receiving), anal fingering, come eating/swallowing, come play, semi-public play, light bdsm, check-ins, marking/bruises, teasing, edging, light overstimulation, some m/m (kissing and hand-holding), dirty talk, praise kink, light degradation, pet names (sweetheart, baby), aftercare, established relationship, happy ending polycule

word count: 12.2k

a/n: i was inspired by those pics from last month at the walk of fame ceremony, and this was originally just going to be a fun, flirty threesome. but then as i was writing, the characters decided we were adding some bucky/steve to the mix, so here we are!!! i haven't written anything like this before so i hope i did ok 🫣 also i did not mean for this fic to be so long but i had so much fun writing it, i just couldn't stop hahah anyway! hope y'all enjoy!!!

A jolt of excitement shot down your spine when you recognized Steve Rogers approaching through the crowd beneath the white canvas tent set up on Hollywood Boulevard. Your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, must’ve felt the way your body tensed as you sat beside him, because his hand tightened on your bare thigh.

Bucky wasn’t looking at you—he’d caught sight of his oldest friend, and the corners of his mouth were flickering in the way they did when he was trying to repress a grin—but you could feel his own excitement in the way his fingers dug into your soft flesh. You had a feeling you weren’t the only one thinking about the plans you, Bucky and Steve had for that evening.

But then your boyfriend’s touch was gone and Bucky was standing to greet his oldest friend with a tight hug. There were even a few enthusiastic back pats thrown into the mix. It was clear the men were happy to see each other.

You watched the interaction, fascinated. In all the time that you’d been dating Bucky, you hadn’t met his childhood friend, nor had you seen them interact, and you couldn’t help but notice the way he relaxed in Steve’s presence. Bucky’s shoulders loosened and his smile was easier. Normally, he’d be tense in a crowd surrounded by photographers, and look to you for comfort—and you were always happy to give it.

But it seemed you weren’t the only person who could have a calming effect on Bucky, and it made you smile to see him catch up with Steve, a sense of happiness settling into your heart as you watched your boyfriend talk to his best friend. There was an easiness to their interaction that spoke to their decades of friendship, and instead of feeling put out that Bucky hadn’t introduced you yet, you understood he needed a moment with Steve.

It had been months since they’d last seen each other, and they’d only been reunited for the Walk of Fame ceremony you were attending with Bucky, where a director he and his best friend had both worked with was receiving a star. The director had discovered Steve and Bucky when they were younger, giving them their first roles that eventually led to their careers in Hollywood.

“Is this your girl?” Steve asked, his friendly voice pitched a little louder so you could hear it over the crowd of people all crammed beneath the tent. You looked up and found Steve’s face tilted down toward you, his attention making you feel warm all over. There was a playful, devastatingly handsome tilt to his mouth as he asked, “The future Mrs. Barnes?”

Steve held out both of his hands to you and you tipped your head back with a laugh as you slipped your fingers into his palms. He helped you to stand, his hands smoothing up your arms to your elbows, then pulled you into his orbit as he leaned in to brush kisses to both of your cheeks.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Steve,” you murmured in between skimming your lips over his whiskered cheeks, enjoying the prickle of his beard against your soft skin.

Since you were so close, Steve’s warm, woodsy scent washed over you. Somehow, it went straight to your head and your core, making you sway a little on your heels as a warmth bloomed deep in your belly. You had to repress a shiver and hold yourself back from burying your face in Steve’s neck to inhale more of his delicious smell as you leaned back from your greeting.

“The pap photos don’t do you justice, sweetheart, you’re much more gorgeous in person,” Steve rumbled, his hands giving your arms a light squeeze before he stepped back to a more polite distance.

You felt bereft without Steve’s touch, and you reached instinctively for Bucky’s hand. Your boyfriend slid in next to you, catching your fingers in one of his hands while the other settled against your lower back. His familiar cologne filled your senses and you smiled up at him, feeling steadier as you leaned into Bucky. In your chest, your heart was racing, and you tried to make sense of the riot of emotions in your belly.

Thankfully, Steve’s comment about paparazzi got the men talking about their least favorite aspect of working in Hollywood and you could take a moment to collect yourself.

As you did, you took the opportunity to look at Steve properly.

Of course, you’d seen him in movies, and in plenty of photos on social media. You’d even seen him in some pictures of the two friends that Bucky had hanging in the brownstone you shared together in Brooklyn. But it was a different thing entirely to see your boyfriend’s Hollywood heartthrob best friend in person.

Steve had made a name for himself in the business as the golden boy action hero, leading a franchise that had grossed over $2 billion with just three movies. In his mid-30s, he had his pick of any blockbuster movie role in town, and he had the looks and the talent to make whatever film he chose a success.

Your eyes, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, raked down Steve’s body, and it struck you how much he looked like the epitome of an action hero with his broad shoulders and trim waist. His biceps bulged in the sleeves of his short-sleeved button-up and his thighs filled out his slacks nicely.

Trailing your eyes back up to his handsome face, you noted that Steve’s beard was well-groomed and his watch looked expensive despite its simplicity. But he managed to look much more down-to-earth with his navy blue cap and sunglasses than most of the overly shiny men in Hollywood.

It almost made you smile how you could immediately spot so many differences between Steve and Bucky, but, at the same time, so many similarities, too.

Although they were both actors, their career trajectories had gone in completely different directions. While Steve had become an action star, Bucky had made a name for himself in indie movies and prestige dramas. Also in his mid-30s, Bucky had a few major awards under his belt, and he was often flying around the world to promote his movies at film festivals like Cannes.

But, like Steve, he’d opted for a more down-to-earth look for the Walk of Fame ceremony, choosing a patterned button-up tucked into simple slacks. He looked a bit more polished, in your opinion, and just as handsome as his best friend. Though he didn’t have the same broad build as Steve, he still looked strong and fit—and his ass filled out his slacks very nicely, which you’d told him before the two of you had left your hotel suite that morning.

“It’s a shame it took something like this to finally get you both out here to LA at the same time,” Steve said, getting your attention.

He shifted closer to your side opposite Bucky, making you feel almost caged in between their two broad chests. To your surprise, though, you didn’t mind. You felt more comfortable between them, and you wondered what it would feel like to be pressed between their broad bodies without any clothes in the way…

“I’ve been dying to meet your girl,” Steve went on, his voice dropping low so only you and your boyfriend could hear. His fingers skimmed up the back of your arm and across the bare skin of your shoulders, making you tremble lightly. Steve’s eyes danced across your face and he smirked as he said, “And I can’t wait to get to know you intimately later tonight, sweetheart.”

You visibly shuddered at Steve’s suggestive words, your mind jumping immediately to the plans the three of you had for that evening. They entailed the hotel suite Bucky had booked for the evening, and the three of you alone together, completely naked. Touching, kissing, and more.

The plans were a result of conversations you’d had with your boyfriend. Bucky had told you early on in your relationship that he had a fantasy about sharing his girl with his best friend, and you’d liked the idea far more than you’d expected. However, it had been difficult to make happen, given his and Steve’s busy movie star schedules. So, despite it being the same day you were meeting Steve, that night might be the only time in a long time that it could happen.

But something about the energy between the three of you in that warm tent made you think that even if the plan wasn’t already for you, Bucky and Steve to end up in bed together that night, it would’ve happened anyway. You couldn’t put your finger on why you thought so, but it had quite a bit to do with the hungry looks they were shooting your way—and exchanging with each other.

“Don’t get her all riled up yet, Stevie,” Bucky chided his best friend lightly, but when he cut his eyes to you behind his sunglasses, you could see a mischievous glimmer in their depths. “You keep whispering in her ear like that, and she’s gonna end up leaving a mess on her chair.”

Biting back a gasp, you squirmed against Bucky’s side, your embarrassment at his comment fanning the flames of your arousal. Your boyfriend chuckled at your reaction and wrapped his arm around your back, his fingers digging into your hip to hold you still, though that only made you want to writhe against him some more.

Steve’s eyebrows winged upward at Bucky’s comment, and you could tell from the slight shifting of his head that he was looking back and forth between your faces, a small smirk on his lips. “Is that so?” he asked, the slight edge of a challenge in his tone.

Bucky knew your body well—he knew what turned you on and just how wet he could make you with his words and voice alone. You’d long since learned that your boyfriend got a great deal of enjoyment out of teasing you and working you up until you were begging for him. He loved seeing just how wet and sloppy he could make you, pushing you both until you were ravenous for each other.

So it didn’t surprise you that Bucky shot his best friend a cocky grin and drawled, “Oh Stevie, you’d be surprised at just how messy my girl can get.”

Heat flushed fast and fierce through your body and you whipped your head around to look at your boyfriend. It was on the tip of your tongue to demand he and Steve take you back to your hotel, but at that moment, the event organizers began telling everyone to take their seats.

You were frustrated and thankful for the interruption as you took your seat between Bucky and Steve. Although the ceremony beginning meant there was no way you could convince Bucky to leave early, at least it meant your boyfriend and his best friend couldn’t continue to torture you.

At least, that’s what you naively believed. Until not one, but two hands slipped onto your bare thighs.

“You don’t mind, do ya, Buck?” Steve asked cheerfully across you, his thumb stroking over your skin in a way that nearly had you whimpering. He wore a shameless grin as he sat forward, looking at your boyfriend while touching you.

Your thoughts had scattered, and it didn’t even occur to you how inappropriate it was for Steve to put his hand on your thigh right in front of your boyfriend. In the deepest reaches of your heart, it just felt right for both Bucky and Steve to have their hands on you. And instead of being surprised by Steve’s boldness, you just felt desperate for one of them to move their hand higher, to stroke their fingers over the spot where you needed them most.

“Not at all, Stevie,” Bucky replied easily, his tone almost nonchalant as he dragged his gaze up from Steve’s hand to his best friend’s face. “You go right ahead,” he said, shifting in his chair, moving closer to you as he began stroking his thumb against your other leg, matching Steve’s rhythm so perfectly, it was maddening.

If you didn’t know Bucky so well, you wouldn’t have been able to detect the undercurrent of desire in his tone, or the way he was shifting in his seat to hide the slight bulge in the front of his slacks. Your whole body clenched tight with the reminder that you weren’t the only one excited by the knowledge that you would be bringing Steve into your bed that evening.

Bucky clearly got off on seeing his best friend’s hand on your thigh and you relaxed a little. Your boyfriend’s desire calmed the anxiety you didn’t know you had—anxiety that you were the only one excited for more—leaving only arousal simmering deliciously in your belly.

As if somehow sensing your thoughts, Bucky leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“How’s it feel, baby?” Bucky purred, his voice as warm as the summer sun shining on the crowded tent. “Having my best friend’s hand on your thigh, his fingers so close to your sweet, needy cunt?”

Bucky’s fingers slid slowly up your thigh, curling beneath the hem of your dress, teasing closer to the heat nestled between your thighs. He was so close to touching you where you needed him most, that you had to bite back a whimper before even beginning to think about answering.

Your boyfriend’s fingers dug into your soft flesh, urging you to respond, but all you could manage was one word.

“Bucky.” His name was the softest whine lilting from your lips, carried on the gentle California breeze. Your fingers were clinging to the edges of your seat and you squirmed restlessly, already feeling wetness gathering between your legs and soaking into the thin fabric of your panties.

“Hush, sweetheart,” came Steve’s voice, rich and deep in your other ear. “You keep squirming and whining like that, and you might draw attention to yourself.” His fingers slipped beneath your dress, slotting in between Bucky’s as both men gripped your thighs, groping you unabashedly despite the crowd that surrounded the three of you. “And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Bucky’s chuckle ghosted past the sensitive skin of your neck and your shoulders trembled with the effort it took to stop yourself from writhing on your chair. Pressing your lips together, you bit back the desperate mewl that threatened to spill from your lips, heeding Steve’s warning and suppressing the urge to beg them to touch you, crowd be damned.

Steve was right, after all. You were in a crowded tent, waiting for the Walk of Fame ceremony to begin, surrounded by your boyfriend’s friends and colleagues—and there were cameras everywhere. You may have felt surrounded well enough by the broad shoulders of your boyfriend and his best friend sitting on either side of you, but it was a false sense of privacy.

You knew you needed to sit up straight and smile blandly, and pretend like Bucky and Steve’s hands weren’t slowly inching closer to the juncture of your thighs. You needed to play the part of Bucky’s devoted girlfriend, and normally it wouldn’t be too difficult. Your boyfriend didn’t usually play this game in public, since he knew you were one photograph away from winding up on the home page of TMZ with a headline calling you Bucky Barnes’ whore or something equally degrading.

But there was something about Steve being there that was making your boyfriend act a little reckless. And, despite Steve being the one to warn you about the situation you were in, you knew he was the foolhardy one. You could feel his energy urging Bucky on, and your boyfriend seemed all too happy to match his best friend’s energy.

“Didn’t you know, Stevie,” Bucky began, his voice quiet but easygoing, as if he was talking to his best friend about something as banal as the weather or their new movies. “My girl’s a needy little slut, and she can’t help acting like it.”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip a mere second before the tips of Bucky’s fingers brushed so, so gently against the soaking wet fabric of your panties. A strangled moan caught in your throat and you tried to squirm in your seat, but Bucky and Steve’s hands clamped down hard on your thighs, holding you still.

“Just look at the way she’s spreading her legs for us,” Bucky went on, a new warmth in his tone, like he was wholly enjoying the way you were getting worked up. “She doesn’t even know she’s doing it.” Bucky’s face tilted toward you, and you could feel his gaze like a warm caress against your cheek as he asked, in a patronizingly sweet voice, “Do you, baby?”

Despite the chatter of the crowd around you, the sharp breath you inhaled at Bucky’s question was loud in your ears. You dragged your gaze away from your boyfriend’s face and looked down to see your thighs had spread open on your chair, much wider than was appropriate for the public ceremony, without you even noticing.

Your first instinct was to snap your legs closed, and somehow, both men seemed to anticipate it. Bucky and Steve moved simultaneously, almost as if they’d planned it, shoving their hands under your dress to be trapped between your plush thighs. Their fingertips were so close to your pulsing heat, but not quite touching it.

Your legs clenched tight together around their warm hands, trying to force them to touch you, but it was no use. They were trapped, and so were you, unable to spread your legs and beg them for more while you were sitting in the crowded tent on Hollywood Boulevard.

If Bucky and Steve minded that their fingers were tangled together between your thighs, they didn’t show it. Both men were grinning at each other, their bodies bracketing either side of yours, heads ducked together as if the three of you were simply having a private conversation.

But that’s not what was happening. Your body was a riot of sensation, of desperate, burning need. Fisting your hands in your lap, you curled in on yourself and shuddered, biting your bottom lip hard against a moan of pleasure and frustration.

It felt so good to have their hands on you, but you wanted them to touch you for real. You wanted them to push your panties to the side and stroke your clit before plunging their fingers into your dripping hole. But they couldn’t. And more than that, you knew they wouldn’t. Not while the three of you were in public and surrounded by people.

Bucky’s hand settled over your curled fists, his strong fingers easing the tension from your hands until he could slip his palm into both of yours. “Sit up, baby, the ceremony’s finally starting,” Bucky murmured in your ear, not unkindly.

His other hand flexed gently on your thigh, making you wheeze and tremble as you straightened, but your boyfriend only chuckled under his breath when you shot him a little glare. He ducked close and pressed a kiss to your cheek, mollifying you for the moment.

Your fingers tangled with Bucky’s on your lap as you sat up and pushed your shoulders back, fixing a polite smile on your face. You did your best to ignore the fact that both your boyfriend and his best friend’s hands were tucked between your thighs beneath your dress, making a valiant effort to pretend as if nothing was amiss.

It helped that you had something to hold onto, your fingers twining idly with Bucky’s. You hadn’t realized you were fidgeting a bit too much until you felt another hand land gently on your forearm, and you followed it up to look at Steve. He gave you a small, reassuring smile, his hand squeezing your arm lightly, and you settled further.

While the emcee of the ceremony took the small stage and began to introduce the director being honored, you managed to relax. You focused on the speech being given, and worked to remain quiet, despite the still burning heat in your blood.

You thought, once the ceremony began, the boys would behave themselves, but you were wrong.

Bucky and Steve seemed to work in synchrony, taking turns whispering filthy things into your ear that refused to let you forget you had their hands trapped between your thighs, your body aching for them to touch you.

Sometimes they’d tease you with the predicament you found yourself in, and other times they’d make promises that they intended to fulfill once the three of you were alone.

They were equally merciless, their words getting dirtier and dirtier as the ceremony went on, and your core throbbed unrelentingly, the evidence of your drawn-out arousal dripping into your panties and smearing on the plastic seat of the chair.

It became increasingly apparent that Bucky’s playful warning would come true—you were going to leave a wet spot behind when you stood up. But no matter how you tried to rein in your desire, Bucky and Steve were determined to keep you on edge with their words and their touch alone. It was all you could do to try to portray the image of a respectful Hollywood girlfriend, and not the wanton slut all three of you knew you to be.

Finally, the ceremony wrapped up and all around you, people began to stand and chatter again as photographers hired for the event escorted some to have their pictures taken with the director being honored.

The reality that you’d have to stand up on legs that felt like butter melted in the summer sun hit you all at once, and you grabbed Bucky’s hand before he could stand up. You gave him a desperate, pleading look, unable to find the words to ask for help.

But your boyfriend must’ve felt the way your leg trembled beneath his other hand, because he seemed to understand your plight. He glanced around before removing his hand from under your dress, Steve following his lead and doing the same.

Both men had turned their bodies toward you, caging you in and protecting you from the eyes of the crowd and the paparazzi. Bucky wrapped his arm tightly around your waist while Steve braced your arm under his, and they both helped you to stand.

It took a moment, and you swayed between their broad bodies, their scents swirling around you and making you want to sink into both of them. But after a moment, you managed to get your legs to work and hold you up with minimal help from your boyfriend and his best friend.

Once you were steady, you watched the boys exchange a look and then, in tandem, they looked over your shoulder and down at the seat where you’d just been sitting. You, however, didn’t need to look to know what they’d see, and your cheeks flamed with red-hot embarrassment, even as your core throbbed in arousal.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath at the same time Bucky chuckled, and you knew—there was a wet spot on your chair. You tried to bury your face in Bucky’s chest, but he tutted at you quietly and gripped your chin to turn your face to Steve.

Your boyfriend’s best friend had waited until he had your attention, then he shot you a wicked grin before ducking down and wiping his fingers through the mess you’d left behind on the seat, cleaning up most of it. As he stood back up, he popped his fingers into his mouth.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire as you watched Steve lick your arousal from his fingers, his soft groans reaching your ears over the noise of the crowd.

“Mm, you taste just as sweet as I hoped,” Steve murmured, crowding into you with a delicious smirk curling his mouth. Leaning in, his beard brushed gently against your cheek, making you shudder. “You really are just as much of a slut as Bucky said, huh?”

You tried to bite back a whimper, but the soft sound of desperation slipped free from your lips. “Yes,” you mewled, meeting Steve’s gaze through both your sunglasses, feeling his hunger sear you to the bone while Bucky’s hands held you steady.

“Can’t wait to bury my mouth in your cunt later, sweetheart,” Steve rumbled, nuzzling the side of your face lightly. You could smell yourself on his breath, and it made you tremble harder in Bucky’s arms. “Gonna make you scream for being such a good girl and putting up with me and Bucky’s teasing.”

Your eyes were wide behind your sunglasses, your breathing shallow, and you couldn’t stop shaking with desire. You felt like you might explode right there on Hollywood Boulevard, and Bucky seemed to sense that you’d been pushed to your limit.

“Alright, Stevie, that’s enough,” Bucky said as he tucked you in beneath his arm. His tone held an undercurrent of finality, and Steve backed off, nodding as he gave your elbow an apologetic squeeze.

Then Bucky’s fingers were gently nudging your chin to lift so he could look at your face and check on you. Even through his sunglasses, you could feel his gaze roving over your face and you smiled softly to let him know you were ok. Bucky pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You were a very good girl, baby,” he praised in a soft rumble, swiping his thumb just beneath your bottom lip, cleaning away some of your lipgloss. “I’m so proud of you.” He brushed another kiss to your forehead and let your head fall against his shoulder, taking a moment amidst the chaos of the post-ceremony rush to hold you.

You snuggled into your boyfriend despite the warm summer heat in the tent, enjoying the comfort of his familiar scent and letting it relax you. You knew you still had a few hours before Bucky and Steve would take you back to the hotel suite your boyfriend had booked for the night, and you took the opportunity to let the desire in your body cool just a bit.

Too soon, a photographer was calling for Bucky and Steve and they left you to take photos with the director. You waited for them, long having gotten used to watching Bucky get his picture taken.

As you watched Bucky and Steve laugh together, throwing their arms around each other, you were struck again by how much at ease your boyfriend was with his best friend. Part of the reason he’d chosen to get a place in Brooklyn was that he said he always felt awkward at Hollywood events, and you’d squeezed his hand in comfort enough times to know that to be the truth.

But with Steve at his side, Bucky looked just as relaxed as if the three of you were hanging out alone, throwing his head back as his best friend made some kind of joke just for him.

It occurred to you that perhaps you should feel jealous. After all, you took great pride in being one of the few people who could make Bucky feel comfortable and relaxed. But instead you just felt happy—you were glad Bucky had someone else in his life who made him feel at ease.

When the pictures were finally done, Bucky cut through the crowd to wind an arm around your waist, tugging you against his body and dropping his mouth to yours for a quick kiss.

“Ready to get out of here, baby?” he murmured, a delicious smirk on his handsome face. You nodded eagerly as Steve slid in next to Bucky, joining the two of you and making a circle of three. You smiled at Steve, who gave you a devastating grin in return.

The hours after the ceremony went by in a blur. Despite your best efforts to calm yourself, burning need simmered low in your belly, ensuring your body never properly settled, even through the early dinner you shared with Bucky, Steve and some of their close Hollywood friends.

Your pulse seemed to beat in time with the watch on Steve’s wrist, your body instinctively counting down the seconds until your boyfriend and his best friend would take you back to the hotel and fulfill their promises of sharing you. You had to keep your thoughts on other things, lest you leave another wet spot on your seat, while you smiled and chatted through dinner.

The elevator in the hotel felt too cramped for the three of you, and you clung desperately to Bucky’s hand, your fingers twisted so tightly around his, you would’ve worried about cutting off his circulation if you could think of anything else but the throbbing heat between your thighs. Steve snagged your other hand, holding it tightly and giving it an encouraging squeeze that you felt in your core.

The door to the hotel suite had barely closed when Steve pounced on you, his hand wrapping around the front of your throat as he backed you up into Bucky’s chest, his lips descending on yours as he took possession of your mouth like you were his to devour. You let out a small squeak of surprise before surrendering to Steve’s plundering mouth, sinking into the need and desire of his tongue as it stroked against yours.

Bucky’s hands circled your upper arms, holding you pinned between the two men’s firm bodies while Steve ravaged your mouth. Unable to stop himself, Bucky dropped his mouth to your neck, kissing the fluttering spot over your thrumming pulse point and nuzzling your soft skin with his whiskered jaw until you were shivering with need.

Then Steve was dropping to his knees, right there in the entryway of the suite, muttering something about needing to taste your cunt straight from the source. If it wasn’t for Bucky holding you steady, your knees would’ve given out at the sight of the golden boy action hero staring at the juncture of your thighs with such determination, it sent a quiver of anticipation down your spine.

Steve moved quickly, pushing your dress up past your thighs and ripping your panties down your legs, tossing them away. He crawled closer, throwing one of your thighs over his broad shoulder before burying his face in your cunt, groaning loudly against your slick folds.

Bucky held you propped up against his chest, his hands holding your dress up so the both of you could stare down your body and watch Steve feast on you like a starving man. While his best friend ate you out, Bucky pressed kisses and little love bites into your neck, murmuring soft praises in your ear.

Your boyfriend told you what a good girl you were, behaving so well for him and his best friend while Steve’s tongue buried deep into your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit until you came with a scream. Your spine arched, and you twined a hand in Steve’s soft blond hair while your other clung to Bucky’s arm, holding onto both of them as you shattered apart on Steve’s tongue.

After that preamble in the suite’s entryway, it wasn’t long before you were bouncing on Steve’s cock, another orgasm quickly building in your core.

The boys had divested you of your remaining clothing and shed theirs in a flurry of hands skimming over naked skin and low, appreciative groans. You hadn’t been able to stop touching either of them, your fingers raking over hardened muscle and nails digging into golden skin. You felt drunk and gluttonous on the ability to finally touch them, really touch them, in the true privacy of the hotel suite.

As you fucked yourself on Steve’s perfect cock, your hands never seemed to stop moving, fingers digging into his pecs, his abs, trailing up the sides of his ribs until he was laughing and moaning at the same time. His face was a little flushed, rosy pink spots in his cheeks, and his mouth flattened into a determined line. Steve was just as beautiful undone beneath you as he’d been when you’d first seen him in person on Hollywood Boulevard.

“Fuck—fuck, sweetheart, your cunt’s squeezing me so fucking tight,” Steve huffed, his hips working up between your thighs, impaling you on his thick cock. “Fuck, ‘m gonna blow in your pretty pussy in no time if you keep…”

He trailed off as the tip of his dick hit a spot inside you that made your whole pussy clench down on his hard, heavy length. Steve threw his head back with a growly groan, his fingers digging so hard into your soft hips, you suspected he’d leave bruises behind.

Not that you minded in the least.

It felt too good, Steve’s thick, hard length pounding into you from below, bouncing you on his cock so your tits heaved and you wanted to pinch your nipples, but you were too eager to keep touching your boyfriend’s best friend to tear your hands away.

Your gaze trailed away from Steve, finding Bucky sitting back on his knees beside you and his best friend, a satisfied smirk on his perfect mouth while he pumped his own cock lazily in his fist. His glimmering blue eyes were focused on the place where you were impaled on Steve’s cock, but when you whined desperately, his gaze flicked up to meet yours.

“Ya having fun, baby?” Bucky asked, humor in his tone as he ignored the pleading look in your eyes. A drop of precum beaded at the tip of his dick and your mouth watered with the desire to flick your tongue over his cock head and lap it up. But then you remembered he’d asked you a question.

“Yes, yes, but I need more,” you rasped, your voice husky with arousal, stuttering out of you as Steve kept pounding you from below. You arched your spine, sticking out your tits and putting them on display for the men while your fingers dug into Steve’s abs, hoping your boyfriend would take the hint,

“Greedy girl,” Bucky said, chuckling good-naturedly as he shifted closer on his knees. You angled your body toward him and he took one of your breasts in his free hand, kneading it with dextrous fingers while his mouth descended on the other. He sucked your nipple into his mouth and laved his tongue over it, still stroking his cock.

If Steve cared that Bucky’s cock was close to leaking all over his arm and ribs, he didn’t say. Instead, the blond man’s eyes glittered with desire as he watched your boyfriend play with your tits.

“Christ, Buck, you get to fuck this pussy every day?” Steve huffed, awe and a little bit of jealousy in his ragged voice.

Bucky’s low laugh ghosted over your dewy skin. He gave your nipple one last affectionate suckle before pulling his mouth away, his other hand trailing down your body and between your thighs. Your boyfriend teased a fingertip around your clit, making your body jerk, a whine slipping from your lips that only made him laugh again.

“Stevie,” Bucky began, light admonishment in his tone. He rubbed your clit, making you wail in pleasure as your body clenched down hard around Steve’s cock, pulling a loud grunt from the man between your thighs. “I fuck this pussy multiple times a day. You know how she feels now, wouldn’t you fuck her every chance you got?”

“Yes—fucking christ, yes,” Steve groaned, his chest heaving, hips rising up from the bed as he fucked you harder, chasing his release.

His wild blue eyes caught yours, Steve’s expression fixed into one of tenacity that made your pussy flutter.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he rasped, his fingers digging deeper into your hips, nearing the point of pain as he pulled you down onto his stiff length. “Come on my cock—let me feel you before I blow my load in your cunt, please.”

You didn’t know if it was Steve’s ‘please’ or his cock buried deep in your pussy or Bucky’s fingers on your clit—though you suspected it was a combination of all three—but the pleasure coiling tight in your core snapped. Electric currents of ecstasy flashed through your body as you came. Tossing your head back, you screamed your release to the heavens, your hips working of their own accord, grinding your pulsing cunt mercilessly on Steve’s cock.

Your boyfriend’s best friend was right behind you, coming with a rough shout, the tendons of his neck straining with his head thrown back on the bed. His fingers dug so deep into your plush hips, you could’ve sworn they reached down to the bone as he pulled you flush against his abdomen.

He was so deep inside you that you could feel his cock twitch and the pulsing warmth of his come as it flooded your pussy. The sensation dragged another fluttering wave from your cunt, and you writhed against Steve, both of you eking out as much pleasure from each other as possible.

Bucky’s fingers didn’t relent on your clit until you whined at the overstimulation, your upper body swaying almost drunkenly. Your head felt like it was filled with puffy clouds of pleasure as you slowly came down from the peak of your release, enjoying the way your body buzzed and your pussy fluttered around Steve’s softening cock.

“You did so good, baby,” Bucky murmured into your cheek before kissing your temple tenderly.

A smile flickered at the corners of your lips as your eyes slid closed and you slumped against your boyfriend’s broad chest. You pressed your face into his sternum, inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of his cologne lingering on his skin.

For a long moment, the three of you stayed like that. Bucky’s hand trailed comfortingly up and down your spine, his lips pressing sweet kisses to your face, while Steve’s big hands massaged your hips to ease some of the sting from his brutal grip. You were still going to bruise, but you didn’t mind having his marks on you.

Unsurprisingly, their hands touching you, no matter how gentle and soft they were being, had an effect on you, and it wasn’t long before desire rekindled in your core. Your hips squirmed restlessly, feeling Steve’s cock slip from your pussy, his release dripping out of you and making a mess of both your bodies.

“Bucky,” you whispered, fingers trailing down his chest and taking his hard length in your hand. Your boyfriend’s cock jumped excitedly against your palm, the tip leaking precum that you desperately wanted to taste. Siting up, you looked up at your boyfriend from under your lashes, the corner of your mouth curling in a smirk. “D’you want my mouth or my pussy?”

A pained sounding groan came from Steve, drawing both your and Bucky’s attention. The blond man had thrown an arm over his eyes, looking exhausted, even with the smile playing around the edges of his mouth.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” Steve muttered, but you could feel his cock twitching beneath your messy cunt, trying to harden again already.

Bucky laughed huskily, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck before he pulled you to him for a consuming kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth and you wondered distantly if he could taste Steve’s kiss on your lips, but then he groaned into you and all thoughts scattered from your mind.

When your boyfriend finally pulled away, you were breathless with anticipation, your wetness dripping from your pussy to coat Steve’s already slick cock.

“You’re gonna clean up the mess you left all over Stevie’s cock, baby,” Bucky rumbled, his hand cupped beneath your chin, fingers digging lightly into your cheeks. “While I pump your pretty pussy full of another load of come. D’you want that?”

You smiled and nodded eagerly, not even needing to think about it. “Yes, please!”

Both men chuckled at your enthusiastic response as they began shifting on the bed, rearranging themselves to make Bucky’s words come true.

Steve dragged his half-hard cock from between your messy folds, making you whimper at the loss of him as the cold hotel air rushed in against your throbbing core. The blond man smirked a little smugly, ducking forward and capturing your lips in an apologetic kiss.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rumbled when he pulled away, laughter in his tone. “You’ll have my cock again before tonight’s over.” He dropped one, last smacking kiss to your lips before shifting up the bed. He flopped down in the mound of pillows with a contented sigh and spread his thick, golden thighs for you to crawl between.

You bent forward onto your hands and knees and slid up the bed to settle between Steve’s legs, your fingers playing with the golden hair covering the taut muscles of his thighs as you pressed your face to his hip, leaving a lingering kiss against his skin.

You felt Bucky moving into position behind you, and you smiled against Steve’s abdomen when your boyfriend’s hands grabbed your hips. A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine as you kissed closer to Steve’s cock.

Bucky adjusted your body until your ass lined up with his lap. His cock pressed between your closed thighs, sliding through the slickness of your and his best friend’s releases to coat his hard length, and you moaned into the thick thatch of hair at the base of Steve’s cock.

Turning your head to the side, you lowered your shoulders so your boyfriend could see you nuzzling his best friend’s hardening dick, which was still soaking wet with a mixture of his come and yours. The scent of your release mixing with Steve’s while Bucky teased you from behind was a heady thing and your hips swayed from side to side, your pussy aching desperately to be filled again.

“Ready for me, baby?” Bucky teased, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. He dragged the head of his cock through your dripping slit, making you whine and try to push back onto his stiff length.

Cutting your eyes over your shoulder, you gave your boyfriend a pleading look. “Please, Bucky, just fuck me,” you mewled, arching your back and spreading your thighs as much as you could, presenting your pussy to your boyfriend the way you knew he liked.

You could tell by the way Bucky’s blue eyes darkened and dropped to the cleft of your ass that he liked what he saw. His big hands groped your thighs, then your ass, spreading your cheeks wide and grinning as he ran his thumbs along the seam of your pussy, pulling you open for him.

“Well, since you begged so pretty…” He trailed off as he lined himself up with your hole, and then he was shoving the full length of his cock deep in your cunt.

You cried out in pleasure as Bucky speared into your sensitive hole, your face pressing against Steve’s cock, which jumped in response as if begging for your attention.

Looking up Steve’s muscular form, you found him propped up on the pillows at the head of the bed, one arm angled behind his head. His bicep bulged in a way that made your mouth water, wanting to trace the veins of his arm. Instead, you put your tongue to use on his cock, dragging the flat of it up the entire length and humming a satisfied sound as the taste of your combined releases filled your mouth.

“Christ, sweetheart,” Steve groaned, his hips jerking up off the bed, pushing his hardening length against your kiss-swollen lips as if begging for more.

You acquiesced to his body’s wordless plea, taking the tip of him into your mouth and sucking softly, swirling your tongue around the head, wringing a grunt from Steve. His hand fell gently to the crown of your head, petting you affectionately as you worked his cock deep into your mouth, your lips forming a seal as you sucked him to full hardness.

“Oh f-fuck,” Steve moaned, a slight tremor working through his thick thighs on either side of your body. His fingers flexed against your head, but he didn’t push you away or pull you closer. “Jesus, Buck, you didn’t mention your girl’s mouth felt like fucking heaven,” he ground out through a clenched jaw, his eyes flicking to your boyfriend over your shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, fucking you in slow, lazy strokes, seemingly content to watch you suck off his best friend.

You knew exactly what he was doing, taking his time to give Steve the chance to recover so the two of them could take you at the same time. When you and Bucky had first discussed details about inviting Steve to join you for the night, you’d admitted that you’d fantasized about being spit-roasted, and you knew your wonderful boyfriend was making sure it happened before he took his own pleasure.

Bucky groped your ass tenderly, bringing you back to the moment as he laughed at Steve’s comment.

“Some things you just gotta figure out for yourself, Stevie,” came your boyfriend’s snarky reply, but his voice was low and gruff.

You could hear just how much your boyfriend was affected and you smirked around Steve’s cock, refocusing on your task so the two of them could fuck you properly and Bucky could come.

“Just wait till you feel her ass,” Bucky went on, surprising you by rubbing his thumb teasingly over your tight rosebud. “My girl’s tightest hole will have ya seeing stars.”

You hummed a pleased sound at Bucky’s praise, wringing a grunt from Steve as the vibrations travelled down his cock, and pushed your ass back against the tip of your boyfriend’s thumb. He chuckled, pressing past the ring of muscle in your ass and making your entire body melt when all three of your holes were filled.

Your throat relaxed enough that Steve’s cock slid into it, and you swallowed around him, making his hips stutter up off the bed again at the squeeze of your muscles. It seemed to take him effort to settle back onto the mattress, his hand flexing furiously against your head.

“F-fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, while you bobbed up and down on his dick. Spit and drool coated the length of him, slipping past your lips and down your chin, making a new mess on his cock. “You’re gonna suck out my fucking soul if ya keep doing that.”

You huffed a laugh before taking Steve to the root and looking up at him from under your lashes. His blue eyes were glittering with desire, but there was something else in his gaze, too. Something deeper that you couldn’t quite name, but made your heart pound a little bit harder.

Looking away from his searing gaze, you refocused on sucking Steve’s cock and reveling in the feeling of Bucky’s dick in your pussy while his thumb stayed buried in your ass.

The three of you lapsed into silence, save for the grunts and groans from Steve, and the rumbling growls from Bucky as he kept his self-control on a tightly held leash and fucked you in firm, steady strokes. Your own sounds were muffled by Steve’s cock, but the soft, wet noises added to the small cacophony of pleasure filling your ears.

Finally, when Steve’s cock was twitching and so slick with your spit that he was sliding easily into your throat, he used his hand on your head to gently pull you off him. When you glanced up at him, though, he wasn’t looking at you. Craning your head to look over your shoulder, you saw Bucky give his best friend a nod and you realized he must’ve shared your fantasy with Steve.

The realization didn’t bother you, and you paused. It should bother you that your boyfriend shared something so intimate about you with his best friend, shouldn’t it? But you found you didn’t mind, because you liked Steve. Not only did you like him, you trusted him.

If you’d been able to think about it more, you might’ve realized that what you were beginning to feel for Steve was deeper than like and trust, but your boyfriend’s best friend was moving, dragging your attention back to the moment and the heat building steadily in your core.

Steve ducked forward to capture your lips in a quick kiss, tasting himself on your lips before he shifted up onto his knees, moving closer to you to line up the tip of his cock with your mouth. With one fist wrapped around the base of his length, Steve ran the tip along your pouting lower lip, leaving a trail of precum that you eagerly licked up.

“Eager little cum slut, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Steve rumbled with a low chuckle. He barely gave you time to grin and nod before he was pushing his cock between your lips like he was too impatient to wait for your answer when your hot mouth was so close to his hard length. “That’s it, take my cock—I’ll fill your slutty tummy with all the come in my balls.”

When he was buried in your throat, you moaned as loudly as you could manage, a shiver racing down your spine as you basked in the feeling of being filled from both ends. Bucky’s thick, hard cock was buried to the hilt in your pussy, his thumb still filling your ass, and Steve’s dick was pressed so deep in your throat, you could only breathe through your nose.

“Careful, Stevie,” Bucky warned, but there was more warmth than menace in his tone. “If you keep spoiling my girl, you might have to join us more often.” He pulled his hips back, until only the tip of his cock remained inside you, before snapping them forward more forcefully against your ass. The sharp smacking sound of flesh meeting flesh met your ears and you moaned again.

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve groaned, his cock twitching in your throat as he grabbed the sides of your head and began to pump shallowly into your mouth. “I might finally move back to Brooklyn if you promise I can fuck your girl with you on the regular.” He bit back a moan, gritting his teeth as he fucked your mouth faster, matching Bucky’s pace. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of burying my dick in one of your girl’s tight holes.”

You purred in pleasure at Steve’s praise, the corners of your mouth curling into a faint smile as he spread your lips to bury his cock in your throat. Your boyfriend’s best friend grunted in pleasure and he shoved harder into your mouth, pushing your nose against his abdomen until you were fully pinned between the two men and impaled on their cocks.

It was heaven, your mind floating with ecstasy as you gave yourself over to sensation. The slick drag of Bucky’s cock in your cunt, fucking Steve’s come deeper into you as he pounded your hole while he used his thumb in your ass to pull you back onto his hard length. Steve’s cock was thick and throbbing and delicious on your tongue, your lips closing around him to suck on his hardness as much as you could.

“Shoulda known the only way to get you back to Brooklyn was luring you with my girl’s pussy,” Bucky grunted, laughter in his voice. His hips slapped roughly against your ass, his free hand kneading your soft flesh and making you moan around Steve’s cock. “You can stay with us while you look for a place,” he offered, his tone snarky despite his obvious arousal.

Pleasure swirled through your body, filling your head with fog, and it took you a long moment to understand Bucky’s words. If it had been anyone else, you might’ve been annoyed at Bucky for offering to let someone stay with you both without asking you first, but because it was Steve, you didn’t mind. In fact, the idea of Steve staying at the brownstone you and Bucky called home sounded perfect—not the least of which because it meant he and your boyfriend could fuck you whenever they wanted.

Your response to your boyfriend’s offer was delayed by the consuming pleasure they were giving you. So you moaned your delight belatedly at what the men were discussing, making them both chuckle.

Steve stroked his thumb over your hollowed cheek, tilting your face up so he could look into your eyes while he kept fucking your throat.

“You like the sound of that, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone patronizingly sweet. “Are you so much of a needy slut that you need two cocks to keep your cunt satisfied?”

Before you had a chance to nod or offer some other answer in the affirmative, Bucky huffed a laugh and spanked your ass lightly, the sound cracking through the hotel suite’s bedroom.

“Oh, she’s definitely that much of a slut,” he rumbled, his tone thick with love and affection, making you purr again. “Aren’t you, baby?”

Obediently, you nodded your head, bobbing your mouth on Steve’s cock in the process and pulling a grunt from him even as both men laughed at your response. The boys fell silent again as they focused on fucking you, but your boyfriend didn’t seem able to stay quiet for long.

“If you do stay with us, watch out, Stevie—my girl loves sucking cock first thing in the morning.”

Your heart raced with excitement at the implication of Bucky’s words. It was one thing to be fucked by your boyfriend and his best friend in a random hotel room across the country from your home. It was another thing entirely for your boyfriend to let you wake up his best friend with a blow job.

You couldn’t help but wonder if, in this hypothetical situation, Bucky was watching you suck Steve’s cock first thing in the morning. And, if so, was he in bed with his best friend… You began to suspect you and your boyfriend had a few things to talk about once he and his best friend were done fucking you.

“You kidding me, Buck?” Steve rasped, pulling your attention back to the present. “Waking up and immediately draining my balls in your girl’s perfect mouth sounds like a fucking dream.”

He groaned, fucking your mouth harder, his thumbs swiping away the few tears that were falling onto your cheeks. Your heart beat harder, loving the way Steve was with you, so rough and gentle at the same time. So much like how Bucky treated you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’d always have the taste of my cock on your tongue if I had anything to say about it,” Steve cooed down at you, making you hum happily as pleasure swirled through you. Your lips curled, trying to smile as much as you could manage as you stared up at Steve.

“Fucking hell, Stevie,” Bucky growled, sounding angry at his best friend’s words, but you could feel the way his cock twitched inside you.

Steve, though, wasn’t afforded the knowledge of Bucky’s body’s reaction to the thought of your mouth always tasting like his best friend’s come and he laughed abashedly.

“Sorry, Buck, ‘m sure you don’t wanna be thinking about my cock while you’re kissing your girl.”

Your boyfriend was uncharacteristically silent for a long beat, and both men slowed their movements. Steve’s hips stuttered to a stop with your face pressed to his abdomen so you couldn’t look up and see what was happening.

The men must’ve been exchanging a wordless look because you could feel the energy in the room changing. It was uncertain at first, then tentative, then all-consuming.

“Fuck,” Steve wheezed, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he grabbed your head and held you still so he could pound into your mouth.

“Fuck ‘er good, Stevie,” Bucky rumbled, his command drenched in desire. “Fill her mouth with your come, and coat her tongue in it.”

Behind you, your boyfriend’s thrusts turned hard and rough, his thumb sliding free from your ass so he could grab your hips hard. His fingers dug into your plush curves hard enough, you knew he was going to give you a second set of bruises to match the ones Steve had left. Something about that felt perfectly right.

As for you, you were pinned so firmly between the two men, all you could do was suck Steve’s cock and moan at the ravenous pleasure burning through your body.

It wasn’t long before Steve’s length twitched against your tongue and he pulled back until only the tip of his cock was in your mouth. He groaned loudly a second before he erupted in your mouth, filling it with rope after rope of his come, just like Bucky had told him to.

It covered your tongue and slid down your throat, and you worked to swallow all of it while Steve furiously jacked off the rest of his stiff length, making sure he drained every drop from his balls.

As Steve came, Bucky’s hand curved around your hip and slipped between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it hard just the way he knew you liked. In just a few seconds, Bucky had you shattering apart beneath him, your body trembling as you moaned around Steve’s softening cock, the vibrations making one last rope fall onto your tongue.

Your boyfriend must’ve been holding out for your release, because at the first clench of your cunt around his hard length, he was groaning. Bucky’s cock throbbed in your pussy and he buried himself to the root, filling you up with even more come and painting your cunt with his spend.

The three of you writhed together as you each drew out each other’s orgasms. Your mouth popped off the end of Steve’s cock to suckle on his balls, making him shudder and let out the most tortured groan that was music to your ears. Bucky kept fucking you through the aftershocks of your release, ensuring every drop of his come was buried deep in your cunt.

Finally, when all three of you were exhausted and sated, you collapsed together on the soft hotel mattress. Bucky’s arm wrapped around your front and he hauled you up the bed to settle on your back against the pillows between him and Steve. Your legs were all tangled together and you couldn’t help the blissed out, happy smile that spread across your face as you looked from one man to the other.

“That was fucking amazing, sweetheart,” Steve murmured against your cheek before pressing a sweet kiss to your sweat-slick skin.

Bucky chuckled but nodded his agreement, dropping a kiss to your shoulder. “You were such a good girl, baby, you took both of us so well.” His fingers were dancing over your ribs, making you giggle and melt beneath their affectionate kisses and warm praise.

But something was niggling at you, a reminder of the moment Bucky and Steve had shared while they’d been buried inside you. The words Bucky had growled to his best friend flitted through your mind and you cut your eyes to your boyfriend, before shifting your gaze to his best friend, wondering if either of them were going to bring them up.

The energy in the room wasn’t awkward, but you could tell by the way they weren’t looking at each other, and were only paying attention to you that neither of them was going to revisit what was said between them in the heat of the moment. Rolling your eyes to yourself and huffing a silent sigh, you reached up and grabbed Steve by the back of the neck, pulling him to you for a messy kiss.

He groaned when he tasted himself on your tongue and you could feel the corner of his mouth curl in a self-satisfied smile. But before the kiss could last too long, and too much of Steve’s taste could be washed from your tongue, you pulled away.

Turning to Bucky, you looked your boyfriend deep in the eye, a question in the slight raise of your brow. It took him a moment to understand what you were doing, but when he did, his gaze darkened with desire and his eyes dropped to your mouth.

Then Bucky was kissing you—no, devouring you. His tongue plunged into your mouth and stroked against yours like he was licking it clean. A deep, guttural groan shuddered through your boyfriend when he tasted his best friend’s come on your tongue, and you could feel his cock twitch against your hip.

Bucky kissed you until Steve’s taste was gone, and then he kissed you some more, his mouth worshipping yours in a way that stole your breath from your lungs. When he pulled away, he gave you a long, loving look, before his eyes lifted to his best friend.

The men stared at each other for a long moment. You waited quietly between them with bated breath, wondering what would happen next…

For years to come, Bucky and Steve would fight good-naturedly over who leaned in first—who took that leap forward to turn their friendship into something more. Both of them would boast that they were the brave one.

And every time they had their little fight, you’d get to tell Bucky and Steve that they both leaned forward at exactly the same second. That was the truth, and you knew because you’d been there to witness their first kiss.

Bucky and Steve’s mouths came together in a primal clashing of teeth and tongues, their lips consuming each other as they both groaned low in their chests. Years and years of friendship, and the something more that had been simmering beneath it, came to the surface, both men pouring their feelings into their kiss.

All you could do was watch, part of you shocked and part of you entirely unsurprised.

It was a wondrous thing to behold, your boyfriend kissing his oldest friend with just as much fervor as he kissed you after being gone on a long film shoot. They were both so gluttonous for each other, and you could feel the depth of their love changing as the kiss slowed into something tender.

You’d have been lying if you’d said the sight of Bucky and Steve kissing hadn’t rekindled the heat in your body that had been sated just moments before. But it helped that you could feel both of their cocks twitching and hardening against your hips while their hands buried in each other’s hair.

Since you didn’t want to ruin the moment for either of them, but you also couldn’t remain still, not with your pussy pulsing desperately for attention, you slipped your hand between your legs. You trailed your fingers through the mess of wetness dripping from your cunt, pushing both men’s come back into your hole as you watched your boyfriend make out with his best friend in front of you.

You must’ve made a sound—or your thoroughly sopping wet pussy did—because Bucky and Steve finally pulled away from each other. Your boyfriend’s gaze dropped immediately to where you were fingering yourself, chuckling a low, filthy laugh.

“Looks like our girl doesn’t appreciate being left out, Stevie,” Bucky commented, using his grip on Steve’s hair to tilt his best friend’s head down to look at your cunt.

You spread your thighs, showing the men how you were using your fingers to push their combined releases back into your cunt, letting out a wanton moan as you watched their eyes darken further with desire.

“Mm,” Steve rumbled in agreement, flicking his gaze back up to Bucky’s. “Think we should do something about that, Buck?” he asked, humor in his tone. “After all, our girl’s been so good for us today.”

You whined a little at that, agreeing without words as you shoved a second finger into your well-used cunt, trying to sate some of the desire that was burning through your body with a renewed hunger.

“That she has,” Bucky agreed, still talking to Steve like you weren’t even there. Something about that—about both of them ganging up on you, made you hotter, wetter, and your thighs fell open even further.

Before you could take a breath deep enough to let out another whine, Bucky was rolling over and grabbing some lube from the bedside table and tossing it to Steve. Then the boys were hauling you up from the bed and arranging you on your knees between them, your back to Steve’s chest.

He was firm and steady behind you, his heart beating against your spine with just as much excitement as you felt in your belly.

You could feel Steve messing around with the lube, but your attention was solely on Bucky, who was pumping his thick cock in his fist. You could still see the sheen of your release on his thick length, but you didn’t have time to appreciate that when he was pulling you onto his lap. Bucky impaled your pussy on his cock, shifting your weight to lay against his chest so Steve could spread your ass.

Steve’s cock pressed against your tight rosebud and both men used their hands to soothe your body and urge you to relax for them. Bucky cooed praises in your ear, telling you what a good girl you were for him and Steve. Your boyfriend caught your lips in a lazy kiss while Steve worked his cock into your ass, huffing and puffing the whole time.

“Fuck, I can feel you inside her, Buck,” Steve wheezed when he was fully seated inside you. His head dropped to your shoulder, pressing kisses along your back while the three of you got used to the feeling of being joined together. “She’s so fucking tight.”

You could practically hear the muscle in Steve’s jaw pop as he gritted his teeth. His cock twitched in your ass, making both you and Bucky moan. It felt so perfect, having them both inside you, filling you. You didn’t think you would ever get enough of having Bucky and Steve inside you at the same time, overwhelming you as they pressed you between their broad bodies.

“Mm, you’re making her tighter, Stevie,” Bucky murmured against your lips. Then he pulled back so he could look into your eye. “You doing ok, baby?” he asked, checking in with you. His eyes were filled with concern, but it wasn’t warranted.

“Sooo good,” you moaned, your voice drenched in pleasure and a dazed smile curling your lips, “feel sooo full.”

You swayed a little, and your hands searched for something to grab onto, finding Bucky’s hand with one and Steve’s with the other. Their fingers laced with yours, their other hands on either side of your hips, holding you between them.

You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect and right it felt to be with them, before your thoughts were scattering at the sensation of them shifting inside you. A broken moan fell from your lips.

“I don’t think she’s gonna last much longer, Stevie,” Bucky warned, his voice a low rumble, his hips beginning to rock and fuck you on his cock.

Steve huffed a laugh, rolling his hips in tandem with Bucky. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer, Buck,” he rasped. “Our girl’s ass is so fucking tight, I feel like I could blow any second.”

You whined at the comment, unable to form the words to protest that idea, and Bucky immediately understood your distress.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’d never get off without getting you off first,” he assured you, ducking forward for a quick kiss as your bodies writhed together.

At the same time, both Bucky and Steve’s hands slid down between your thighs. There was a moment of hesitation from both men, and you could practically feel them exchanging a look over your shoulder, but then their fingers slotted together, the tips finding your clit.

You didn’t know which of them was rubbing you or if they both were—and you didn’t care. You just felt the burst of pleasure bloom from between your thighs and spread in a warm wave through your body. Your head fell back on Steve’s shoulder as you rocked between their firm, muscular bodies, their cocks filling you up so much you felt like they were imprinting themselves on your soul.

Though it was difficult with how tired you were, you kept your eyes cracked open, staring at Bucky and Steve, a part of you wishing they’d kiss again—knowing they both wanted to. But instead, they kept exchanging heated glances, their gazes darting from you to each other.

Still, their hands curled together against your pussy as they fucked you and got you off together. You squeezed their hands in your own and they smiled, first at each other, then at you. You could feel something building between the three of you. Not just your pleasure, but something deeper, a bond that you knew was going to be the foundation of your new life together.

Spurred by Bucky and Steve’s cocks and their fingers on your clit, your release rolled over you like the crashing of a thunderstorm, shaking you to your core. The tightening of your body pushed both men over the edge at the same time, and they grunted and groaned their pleasure as the three of you rode out your releases together.

That time, when you collapsed to the bed, you were all finally fully sated.

Soft words and praises were exchanged as the three of you cleaned up in the bathroom, Bucky and Steve taking turns washing you in the shower before they scrubbed off themselves.

When you were towel dried and clad in one of Bucky’s t-shirts, Steve left the suit to grab his things from the room he’d also booked in the hotel. You’d grumbled at that, not wanting him to leave even for a moment, but Bucky distracted you with a kiss while Steve ducked out.

While Steve was gone, Bucky used the opportunity to wrap you up in his arms and ask if you were ok with everything that had happened.

“Bucky,” you murmured, rolling onto your back on the bed, pulling him with you so his head lay on your chest and your legs tangled together. “I’m more than ok—everything we did tonight feels right. Didn’t it?”

Bucky hummed in thought as you raked your nails through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in the way you knew he liked. “Yeah, it did,” he admitted after a moment. You could feel his smile through the cotton of your shirt a moment before he lifted up, his mouth finding yours in a slow, sweet kiss.

When he moved back to lay on your chest, he squeezed you tight, murmuring his love for you into your sternum, right above your beating heart. You carded your fingers through his hair, trailing them over his bare shoulders since he’d only put on a pair of boxer briefs to sleep in.

By the time Steve returned, you and Bucky were half asleep, laying entwined in the bed that was more than big enough for the three of you. Still, Steve paused at the edge of the bed, wearing his own pair of boxer briefs, and looked at the two of you as if unsure whether he should join you.

“Room for one more?” Steve asked, and you could hear the hesitance in his voice.

A soft smile curved the corners of your mouth and you took a second to look at Steve. He was just as handsome in the dim light of the hotel suite as he’d been in the bright sunshine on Hollywood Boulevard, but you felt more than just excitement seeing him.

You may not have loved him—yet—but you knew you could love Steve just as much as you loved Bucky. And you suspected Bucky’s feelings for his best friend were well on their way there already.

Steve wasn’t just some Hollywood heartthrob to you anymore, or even just your boyfriend’s best friend. He was yours, and Bucky’s, just like you and Bucky were his.

Raising your arm to gesture Steve into bed, a giggle slipped from your lips when you realized you and Bucky had reached for him at the same time.

“There’s plenty of room for one more, Stevie,” Bucky rumbled, beckoning his best friend to get into bed.

“Yeah, Stevie, come cuddle,” you said, laughter making your voice lighter.

Steve shot you both one of his devastatingly charming smiles and then he was crawling into the bed and sliding beneath the covers. He curled into your side, laying his head beside yours on the pillow and the three of you finally settled down.

Before sleep pulled you under, you felt Steve and Bucky lace their fingers together against your hip, their hands holding onto each other as they both held onto you. With a happy smile on your face, you fell asleep, looking forward to starting the new day with Bucky and Steve.

There wasn’t just room for one more in the bed—there was room for one more in your life with Bucky, and you were so happy to have Steve join you both.

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billionairebratenergy · 4 months ago

Text

Only You, Doll

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: There’s something beautiful about the way Bucky loves you—fierce, unrelenting, like you’re the only thing anchoring him to a world he never belonged to. But when harmless smiles from other men threaten to shatter his fragile control, you learn that even a super soldier’s heart isn’t indestructible after all.

Bucky Barnes is not a jealous man. Or at least, that’s the lie he tells himself.

He’s been a lot of things in his unnaturally long life—a soldier, a weapon, a ghost—but jealousy? That’s a weakness for men who have something to lose.

And for most of his life, Bucky’s had nothing.

Until you.

The first time it happens, he doesn’t even notice at first. You’re at Sam’s backyard barbecue, the sun painting your skin gold, and Bucky’s only half-listening to Steve. His eyes keep drifting to you—how you move through the crowd with that easy grace, how you smile like the world’s still worth it, how every time you laugh, his chest aches like a bruise pressed too hard.

Then he sees it. Some guy—one of Sam’s buddies from god-knows-where—gravitating toward you, beer in hand, smile a little too bright.

Bucky watches the whole thing unfold, jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt. The guy leans in, closer than necessary, and you tilt your head back to laugh at something he says. Bucky doesn’t even realize he’s crossed the yard until Steve calls after him, confused.

You’re mid-sentence when Bucky’s arm slides around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into his side, his touch possessive in a way that makes your pulse skip. His smile is polite when he says, "Hey, doll. Miss me?" but his grip on your hip is anything but.

The guy’s smile falters. You catch it immediately—and so does Bucky. Bucky doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have to. The man makes a quick excuse and disappears into the crowd.

Only then does Bucky relax, just a fraction, his hand smoothing over the fabric of your dress like it’s some kind of grounding ritual.

"James," you say softly, eyes glittering. "Was that really necessary?"

He kisses your temple instead of answering, but the warmth of his body against yours says everything his words won’t.

You think it’s a one-time thing. It’s not.

At first, it’s almost subtle—his hand finding yours whenever you’re out, his body positioning itself between you and strangers. But soon it becomes a pattern, a choreography of quiet possessiveness.

A waiter calls you "sweetheart"? Bucky tips him 5% less. A man offers to help you carry something? Bucky’s already got it in his vibranium hand. Even at the grocery store, when some poor guy accidentally brushes against you in the aisle, Bucky’s gaze sharpens to a knife’s edge.

The kicker is, he denies it every single time.

Every.

Single.

Time.

The breaking point comes at Tony’s party—glamorous and over-the-top as always.

You’re on the balcony, enjoying the breeze, when a tall blonde drifts over. He’s harmless, you can tell—probably someone’s brother or date. The conversation is light, harmless, until Bucky steps outside.

The moment Bucky spots you—laughing at something the guy said—something dark flickers behind his eyes. His smile vanishes, shoulders squaring like he’s preparing for battle.

You feel him before you see him, the heat of his presence curling over your skin. His hand settles on your lower back, gentle but unmistakable: mine.

The guy catches the signal loud and clear, mumbling something before practically running inside. You watch him go, then glance up at Bucky. "Really?"

Bucky shrugs, but his jaw is tight, tension coiled through his muscles.

"James," you sigh, turning to face him fully. "Are you gonna tell me what that was about?"

He doesn’t answer immediately. Just stares past you, at the glittering city lights, like they hold a truth he can’t bring himself to say aloud.

"I didn’t like the way he was looking at you." His voice is low, almost embarrassed.

"Buck," you step closer, fingers brushing his, "he was harmless."

"So was the last one," Bucky mutters. "And the one before that. And the one before—"

You press a hand to his chest, right over his heart, feeling the rapid beat beneath your palm. "Do you really think I’d ever—"

"No." His answer comes quick, fierce. "It’s not you I don’t trust, doll. It’s men. Men like me."

Your brow furrows. "What does that mean?"

He exhales sharply, like the confession physically hurts. "I know what they’re thinking when they look at you. Because once upon a time, that was me. Before you, before I knew better."

It hits you all at once.

This isn’t about jealousy. Not really. It’s about fear—the kind born from a lifetime of loss and war, from learning the hard way that good things slip through your fingers like smoke.

"Bucky," you whisper, fingers curling into his shirt. "I’m not going anywhere."

His throat bobs with a hard swallow. "I know." But he says it like he doesn’t believe it. Like the universe has never let him keep anything this good before.

Later, curled up on his couch, you poke at him again—because you love him, and because teasing him feels like stitching soft threads through his battle-scarred edges.

"So," you murmur, tracing patterns on his chest, "jealous?"

Bucky groans into the pillow behind his head. "I’m not jealous."

You grin, propping yourself up on one elbow. "Really? Because if I remember correctly, someone nearly growled at a waiter last week."

His arm slides around your waist, tugging you back down until you’re sprawled across him. "I just know men, doll. That’s all."

"Because you are one?"

"Damn right."

"And you don’t trust yourself?"

Bucky’s smile is small, a little crooked. "Not even a little."

You laugh, burying your face in his neck. "James Buchanan Barnes, you are a menace."

He presses a kiss to your temple, voice a soft rumble. "I’m your menace."

And there it is—the truth he can’t always say aloud. That he’s yours. That you’re his.

And maybe, just maybe, if he holds you tight enough, the universe won’t take you away too.

The next morning, you catch him sneaking one of his shirts into your bag before you leave for work.

"Because," he says when you raise a brow, "if men are gonna look at you, they can at least know you belong to someone."

"Possessive much?"

"Absolutely."

You laugh, looping your arms around his neck. "Good. Because you’re mine too, Barnes."

And for the first time, Bucky doesn’t argue.

─────────────

It starts with his shirt.

The one he snuck into your bag this morning. The one you wore to bed tonight, just to tease him.

You’re curled up under the sheets, the worn Henley draping over your thighs, and Bucky’s standing at the edge of the bed—blue eyes darker than the sky outside, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides like he’s fighting himself.

You know that look. It’s the one he gets when he’s teetering between lover and soldier, between tender and ruthless.

"Something wrong, Sergeant?" you ask, voice soft and playful, but the way his gaze drags over your body—the outline of your bare legs under his shirt, the curve of your hips shifting under the sheets—makes your pulse trip.

Bucky exhales hard, dragging his vibranium hand over his face. "Doll."

Just your name. Just that voice—low and gravel-rough, thick with something hungry.

You sit up slowly, the sheets pooling around your hips, and his Henley slips off one shoulder. Bucky’s eyes track the movement like a predator stalking prey.

"You’ve been pushing me all day," he mutters, stepping toward the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress like a warning. "Talking back. Calling me jealous."

"Because you are," you smile, all innocent and wicked.

Bucky’s weight is over you in a heartbeat, caging you beneath him. The cool press of metal fingers against your jaw makes you shiver.

"You think it’s funny," he says, voice dark silk, "how crazy you make me."

"Maybe a little," you whisper, eyes sparkling with defiance.

He leans in, his nose brushing yours, lips barely an inch away. "Do you know how hard it is," he murmurs, "to watch men look at you like they could ever deserve you?"

Your breath hitches.

"I don’t trust them," he continues, mouth ghosting down your throat, voice fraying at the edges. "But you? I trust you with every fucked-up, broken piece of me."

Your hands slide into his hair, tugging him down until your lips meet his, and the moment they do, the tether snaps.

Bucky kisses you like a man starved—deep and hungry, all teeth and tongue and desperation. His flesh hand fists in the fabric of his own shirt on your body, tugging it up until your bare skin meets the rough drag of his calloused fingers.

"Mine," he growls against your mouth, and you don’t argue.

Because you are. You always have been.

He strips you of his shirt like it’s offended him, tossing it aside carelessly. His lips map a path down your neck, your chest, his metal hand pinning your hips as his mouth closes around your nipple, sucking just hard enough to make you arch.

"Bucky—"

The sound of his name from your lips makes him groan, the sound vibrating against your skin. He kisses lower, trailing down your stomach, his stubble leaving pink paths in his wake, until his shoulders are wedged between your thighs.

"You want me to stop being jealous, doll?" he asks, voice rough silk against your inner thigh. "Fine."

His tongue slides through your slick folds, slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to ruin you.

"I’ll just remind you," he murmurs between kisses, "why you don’t need anyone else."

Your hands tangle in his hair, thighs trembling against his cheeks, and Bucky loves it—loves the way you come undone for him, no barriers, no pretense. Just you, open and wrecked and his.

He works you like a man who knows your body better than his own—tongue circling, fingers curling inside you, teasing and relentless until you’re begging his name like a prayer.

"You’re so fucking perfect," he rasps, eyes flicking up to watch you fall apart. "Every inch of you—mine."

The moment you break, his name on your lips like a confession, Bucky’s already crawling back up your body, mouth crashing into yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Need you," you whisper, nails digging into his back. "Need you inside me."

"Fuck," he groans, forehead pressing against yours. "You’ll kill me one day, doll."

He’s already bare—somehow you didn’t even notice him stripping—and when he slides inside you, it’s slow and deep, a claiming and a promise all at once.

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist, and Bucky moves like a man who has nowhere else to be. Just here, in this bed, with the only thing he’s ever truly wanted.

Every thrust pushes your bodies closer—skin to skin, heart to heart. His hands never stop touching you, like he’s memorizing you all over again, metal and flesh branding every inch of you his.

"You feel so good," he breathes, voice unraveling. "Like you were made for me."

You pull him down into a kiss, soft this time, your hands cradling his face. "I was."

That undoes him completely.

Bucky fucks you harder after that, like he’s trying to pour every unspoken word into your skin—you’re mine, you’re safe, I love you, I love you, I love you.

When you come again, it’s with his name on your tongue, and Bucky follows you over the edge, spilling inside you with a guttural moan.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Just tangled limbs and breathless silence, hearts beating in sync.

Bucky finally collapses beside you, pulling you into his chest, and you trace lazy circles over his sternum.

"So," you murmur sleepily, "jealous?"

He groans, burying his face in your hair. "I’m not jealous."

"You just spent twenty minutes reminding me why no one else could ever have me," you point out, grinning against his skin.

Bucky sighs, but there’s no bite to it. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."

You press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah." You nuzzle closer, fingers tracing the edges of his dog tags where they rest against his skin. "Means you’re mine too."

Bucky’s arm tightens around you, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.

"Doll," he whispers, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, "I’ve been yours since the first smile."

You fall asleep like that, safe in the arms of a man who would burn the world down to keep you.

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lvl1l1 · 3 months ago

Note

Heyy!! Can i please request LADS guys' reaction when you try to pay 50/50 on a date ^_^

LaDS men when you offer to split the bill

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader(separate)

content: fluff, suggestiveness in zayne’s

a/n: oh to have a rich boyfriend. working through reqs rn sorry if they’re taking a while TT

Xavier

You and Xavier were out on your first date night in a while.

You’d both been busy with work, spending time together on missions and at home but you started missing going out with him.

Finishing up at your regular hotpot place, you and Xavier were just talking to now.

Before a waiter could come check in, you took your chance,

“Xavier, let’s do half-half.”

You saw the confusion pass on his face,

“Half-half? But we just finished eating, did you want to get dessert? We can do that.”

A laugh escaped you and his face lit up at the sound as well,

“No, I meant let’s pay half-half.”

The man sitting opposite of you furrowed his brows, still not understanding,

“Why? I can pay for us both.”

You shrugged,

“You always do. I feel bad.”

He quickly shut that down, shaking his head,

“Don’t. I like treating you. I want to pay, I’m your boyfriend.”

You smiled at his words, feeling lucky to have such a sweet partner,

“All right. But the offer’s on the table.”

His eyebrows were still drawn together,

“Well, that’s not necessary.”

Before you could say anything else, he got up, heading to the front of the restaurant to pay.

Zayne

Zayne had wrapped up a week of surgeries back to back.

To relax, you two went out to eat.

You were enjoying each other’s company, happy to finally spend some time together.

Once you two were done eating, you told him.

“Zayne, I want to pay half.”

At that, he frowns,

“Please, don’t. I invited you out.”

You cocked your head, looking at him with big eyes,

“You’ve been working so hard, you won’t let me treat you, so at least let me pay half!”

The frown stayed on his face,

“I appreciate everything you do for me but I’m more than happy to pay for you. I insist, actually.”

You flashed him a sweet smile but reached for your purse regardless.

Though, before you could even pull your wallet out, he called a waiter over and handed them his card.

You went to protest but he quickly reached for your hand, intertwining it with his.

“Darling, I’m grateful for your thoughtfulness, but considering how our quality time together is cut short sometimes due to my work, allow me to spend the money I make from my job on you.”

The sincerity reflected in his eyes makes your heart swell.

You nod, defeated, before a mischievous grin comes onto your face,

“Fine then, I’ll just repay you later tonight.”

The tips of his ears turned red and his eyes widened slightly but before he could respond, the waiter returned with his card.

Zayne could barely focus on anything for the rest of the night, you didn’t miss the shy looks he shot you throughout.

Rafayel

A new art exhibition of his work had been published, to celebrate, you two went out tonight.

Rafayel had it all planned out, a candlelight dinner, a lone table on the balcony, just the two of you.

He was having a great time, until you dared to utter the words,

“Let me pay half.”

He looked like you had personally insulted him.

“You’re asking your rich boyfriend who just had a new art exhibition, if you can pay for your own food?”

Letting out an awkward laugh clearly wasn’t the right course of action, as he started again,

“I love you. You know how much I love you. So, why would you ever ask me that. Was that supposed to be a joke? Because I don’t think it’s funny.”

You scratched your head, unsure of how to respond,

“I didn’t know you were so passionate about this…”

He put his hands on the table, leaning over,

“I’m passionate about providing for my lover.”

You felt surprisingly moved by your boyfriend’s, albeit strange, declaration of affection.

Rafayel sighed,

“I might’ve gotten a bit carried away there at the end but my point stands! Don’t even suggest something like that again. I want to give you nice experiences, that doesn’t include you having to worry about paying.”

You rested your chin on your hand, smiling at him softly,

“Thanks, Rafayel.”

He smiled back at you, his eyes glittering as he looked at you,

“One last thing, if I ever accept that, shoot me on that spot. It has to be a clone, can’t be me.”

He didn’t hide the satisfied look on his face as you laughed.

Sylus

You had been gushing about this new restaurant that had opened near your place.

Sylus had taken you there tonight and it lived up to all your expectations.

Seeing your content expression as you munched on your dessert, left him feeling fulfilled.

You two were engaged in a conversation, before you dropped the bomb on him,

“Sy, let’s split the bill.”

He immediately looked offended,

“Why would we?”

Spoon in mouth, you blinked at him,

“It was my idea to come here, it’s only right.”

His eyes narrowed slightly,

“I brought you here.”

You hummed, still not backing down,

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve been paying for everything lately…”

His look of disapproval almost made your lips curl up,

“As I should. Sweetie, what’s the point of having so much money, if not to spend it on you?”

You ate another bite, feeling charmed.

He smirked and you knew he was onto you,

“Also, while I do think it’s sweet you offered, if I’m not mistaken, you didn’t bring your wallet.”

You stilled, spoon midair, before looking up at him, bashful.

You fluttering your eyelashes at him, not answering.

His laugh that sounded like it could buy the whole building brought a cheeky grin to your face.

“You should really try this, it tastes great!”

“Very smooth, kitten.”

Caleb

Caleb finally took his vacation days and you two went on a trip to a nearby town.

It was your last day there and you decided to have a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant.

You were sitting across each other, Caleb was done eating before you, so you made him eat the rest of your food, that you couldn’t finish.

He was listening to you talk with a lovesick look on his face.

You kept yapping until he was almost done eating,

“Alrighty, let’s do 50/50.”

He stopped, eyes flickering up to your face, his smile dropping,

“What do you mean, pips?”

Giggling, you elaborated,

“Let’s split the bill 50/50!”

He squinted at you,

“No.”

You looked taken aback by his blunt response,

“Why not?”

He stacked the plates over one another, before his gaze met yours again,

“For one, I ate half your food. And even if I didn’t, I don’t want you to pay for anything when I’m with you.”

A chuckle left you as you leaned back in your seat,

“You paid for the whole vacation, Caleb. Let me take this one.”

That charming, boyish grin he flashed you caused you to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

He was so good at winning you over,

“I like taking care of you, honey. You’re not paying for anything.”

You sighed,

“You’re too good to me.”

He looked at you, like you had just said something outlandish.

“Yeah, let’s get you three servings of dessert for that. You deserve everything, pipsqueak.”

You whined his name, feeling shy.

He always looked at you like you had hung all the stars in the sky.

He’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to give you the whole world.

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chanelrolls · 3 months ago

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oops! accidentally touched your...

PAIRINGS. rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier, & caleb x gn! reader (separate)

SYNOPSIS. how would the LADS men react to you unintentionally landing your hand on their crotch (dick)?

CW. mdni! mdni! mdni!

RAFAYEL

it wasn’t supposed to happen, your hand had just slipped while the two of you were squeezed together on the small velvet couch in his studio, sketchbooks scattered everywhere. you’d leaned in to point something out on his page, and in the process, your palm landed right on his bulge. there came a beat of silence, before... “...excuse me?” rafayel's voice cracked slightly as he shot you a look, one dark brow twitching upward like he couldn’t believe what just happened. you then froze, hand still firmly planted where it shouldn’t be. his face flushed, not quite red, but a heated pink crawling up his neck like his body had betrayed him by reacting. he didn’t push your hand away, though. instead, he dramatically tossed his pencil aside and let out a wounded sigh, flopping back against the couch like you’d just personally offended his entire bloodline. “oh, sure,” he muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes. “go ahead. touch me all you want. clearly i’m just...furniture now.” you blinked, abruptly pulling away, “rafayel, it was an accident!” he peeks at you from under his arm, mouth twitching like he was holding back a grin, though the tips of his ears were still suspiciously red. “an accident,” he repeated, “how very convenient. what’s next? falling into my lap?” then he huffed, sitting up straight again and brushing imaginary dust off his trousers with a little pout. “honestly, if you’re going to get handsy, at least have the courtesy to date me first...” and then he bumped his thigh against yours deliberately, just enough to fluster you right back. payback.

SYLUS

the meeting room was too quiet, filled only with the soft clicking of your laptop keys and the occasional turn of a page from sylus, seated beside you. he’d insisted you review the latest contract drafts together, and you’d agreed, even though being in close quarters with him made your thoughts stutter more often than you’d like. you then shifted to grab your pen, leaning a little too far over, and your hand brushed his crotch. firm. warm. solid beneath tailored fabric. you froze but sylus didn’t flinch, he didn’t pull away. instead, he slowly turned his head to glance down at your hand still lingering on his leg. there was a pause long enough to make you panic a little. then, his lips tugged into a slow, smug curve. “...comfortable?” he asks, voice low and calm, a glint in his eyes like he’d caught you red-handed and was already savoring it. you yanked your hand back, mortified. “i-it was an accident.” “mm,” he hummed, leaning slightly closer, his cologne brushing your senses like silk. “of course it was.” he made no effort to move away, letting the silence stretch before casually flipping the page of his binder. “you’re lucky i like you,” he murmured under his breath, like it was a quiet indulgence he didn’t usually allow himself. “next time,” he added, eyes still on the paper but voice dipped low, “ask me before touching. you might be surprised at the answer.”

ZAYNE

you weren’t even supposed to be there. zayne had told you to wait in the hall, but you wandered in anyway, curious and stubborn as always. he was seated at his desk, looking through patient files like they were ancient scriptures. you sat down beside him without asking. “you’re in my space,” he said calmly, without looking up. “you’re in mine,” you said back, not moving either. he sighed through his nose. a small, familiar gesture of restrained exasperation. “childish.” you leaned forward to peek at the papers, elbow brushing his. and then, in the smallest, dumbest accident of the day, your hand fell, and landed squarely on his crotch. zayne didn’t move, but his whole body tensed under your hand like a wire pulled too tight. you pulled away instantly. “ah sorry! that was... yeah. not on purpose.” his pen hovered midair for a second longer before he placed it down carefully, like he didn’t trust himself to keep writing. “...it’s fine,” he says huskily. but it wasn’t fine. you could see it in the way his jaw shifted, in how his fingers curled ever so slightly on the desk. “zayne?” he didn’t look at you, still staring at the desk. then, quietly, “you shouldn’t touch me like that.” "i said it was an accident.” he lets out the faintest breath of a laugh. humorless. “i know. that’s why i’m still sitting here.” a beat passed. “if it wasn’t, we’d have a much bigger problem.” you couldn’t tell if it was a threat, a warning, or something else entirely. but his ears were red.

XAVIER

the two of you had been reviewing documents at a quiet corner of the office. it was late, the only light coming from the soft glow of the overheads and xavier’s laptop screen. he sat beside you, perfectly upright, posture impeccable as always. “can you pass me the stapler?” you asked. he nodded, not saying a word and just handed it to you with that usual robotic grace. but then, when you reached to take it, your hand slipped. blame the fatigue or maybe the awkward angle, but instead of grabbing the stapler, your palm landed firmly on his bulge. you froze. he froze harder. you looked down. your hand still there. “...oh my god.” his face stayed neutral. too neutral. “sorry—i didn’t mean to, i was—” he cuts you off, “it’s alright,” he said, voice calm. but it was not alright. you looked up at him. his eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, like he was analyzing the molecular composition of the wall. but there, there it was. that tiny twitch in his left brow. a faint shift in his jaw. and oh, his ears were turning a little pink. you slowly pulled your hand back, feeling the tension in the air like static. “xavier,” you said, “you sure you're okay?” “mm.” he nodded once, a bit too quickly. “do you want to… talk about—” xavier shooks his head slightly, “actually, do you know if the printer’s working?” he blurted out in a sudden. you blinked. “...printer?” “yes. it’s important. very important.” you squinted at him. “we’re not even printing anything.” he didn’t respond. just kept staring forward like an android who had glitched halfway through a social routine. but under that cool, unbothered front, you could see it: the faint, chaotic panic behind his eyes. the internal crisis. the “i’m pretending this didn’t happen but i’m also not normal about it” energy. you leaned in, voice playful. “xavier. you’re blushing.” “that’s a malfunction,” he muttered. “really?” “uhuh, a mild overheating issue, meaning you should do it again.”

CALEB

(usage of meimei and gege)

you were sitting on the bleachers after practice, the gym mostly cleared out except for the sound of bouncing basketballs echoing from the far side. caleb sat beside you, towel slung around his neck, jersey sticking to his skin from the sweat. he looked tired, but still had that smug, lazy grin on his face. “you’re always watching me when i play, huh?” he teased, nudging your side with his elbow. “don’t think i don’t notice.” “i was just... trying to study your form,” you mumbled. he chuckled. “sure, sure. call it what you want, meimei.” he leaned back, palms resting behind him for support, his thigh just a little too close to yours. and when you shifted to adjust your bag, your hand accidentally landed right on the... crotch. you froze. his leg tensed under your touch. “...oh.” you blinked. “s-sorry, i didn’t mean to—” he didn’t say anything at first. his grin was gone. he turned his head slightly to look at you, eyes sharp now. “did you like what you touched?” he asked, teasing, but there was a dangerous undertone laced into it. you tried to pull your hand away, but his hand caught your wrist. “gege—” “what?” he tilted his head, mock innocence in his tone. “you touch me like that, then look at me like you didn’t mean to?” he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat from his skin. “you sure it was an accident?” you swallowed hard. “caleb…” he smirked again, like a switch flipped back. “relax, i’m just messing with you,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair like always. but that gleam in his eye didn’t fade. he finally let your wrist go, stretching like nothing happened. “you should be more careful where your hands go, though,” he added, smiling as he looked forward. “i might not be able to control myself next time, meimei.”

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classyrbf · 1 year ago

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HE'S SUCH A (HOT) LOSER! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...nsfw and sfw headcanons about loser!choso bc I can’t get him out of my head after righting that drabble about him

INFO...loser!choso x fem!reader, socially awkward, virgin!choso, jerking off, virginity loss, sexual acts, creampie,

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

loser!choso who literally has no friends, is the epitome of socially awkward and always ends making the conversation weird when he opens his mouth

loser!choso who has never seen a woman naked in real life, he just goes on porn sites and jerks his dick until it feels like it’s about to fall off, cum painted on his toned stomach

loser!choso who has sex toys in his closet, fleshlights, pocket pussies, whatever you call them—he has at least two, one of them even vibrates

loser!choso who is (you guessed it) a total virgin, he’s never even gotten close enough to lose it, yet alone have his first kiss

loser!choso who is forced by yuji to go on a dating app and try to find a girlfriend, and he ends up matching with you

loser!choso who stays in his room, playing video games, or goes to the gym, otherwise the poor boy has no social life (like I said, he has no friends)

loser!choso who finally goes on his first date with you and he’s sweating, stumbling over his words because you’re smiling at him, grabbing his hand and making jokes all while looking like some sort of goddess. He was starting to wonder if he’s dreaming

loser!choso who is absolutely stunned when you express how cute you think he is, how nice his hair looks, and he doesn’t know how to react so he just stands there and smiles at you like a complete idiot

loser!choso who drives home after the date and he genuinely can’t wait to get home to jerk off to the thought of you, so he pulls into an empty parking and pulls his pants down right there, tip already leaking precum when he remembers the way your tits were popping out of you dress

loser!choso who thinks the date went horribly wrong until you’re texting him the next day, already planning the next time you meet up, weirdly inviting him over to your place

loser!choso who is obsessed with titties (clearly) no matter what size. He imagines himself getting a hold of pair and just grabbing them, sucking them, it turns him on so bad

loser!choso who thinks nothing of going over your house until he gets his one wish, getting a hold of your tits in his hands, and he’s star struck, just groping, squeezing and without thinking he’s sucking on them

loser!choso who ends up losing his virginity a few minutes later with you bouncing up and down on his cock, pussy gushing around him. He’s in literal heaven and can barely think, brain turned to mush

loser!choso who realizes real sex is better than porn fairly quickly, and lets just say he becomes more obsessed with you than ever cause it’s so much more intimate when you’re holding him, praising him, calling him a good boy

loser!choso who cums in your pussy so many times that night, and the aftermath leaves him stuck in the same spot on your bed while you cuddle up to him and tell him how much you like him even if you’ve only known him for two days

loser!choso who now has his first ever girlfriend, his first everything with you and he can’t wait to brag to yuji about it because you’re absolutely gorgeous

loser!choso who shows you off on his social media despite the twenty followers that he has, he just want to show off his girlfriend to whoever he can

loser!choso who gets weird stares in public from other men when he’s out with you because he knows you’re way out of his league, but just to make them jealous he grabs you and kisses you in front of them

loser!choso who doesn’t develop a sense of fashion until he meets you, going to countless stores as you pick out outfits that’ll look good on him, and he won’t lie, you’ve done a very good job because he’s gained much more confidence in himself

loser!choso who goes on and on about his special interests and you sit there smiling at him, listening intently. He’s lowkey a nerd but you love it

loser!choso who hangs with no one but you, missing you constantly and randomly showing up at your house when he feels like you’ve spent too much time apart

loser!choso who wants to learn how to pleasure you more so he looks up videos on how to eat pussy and watches all the porn he can to study their movements, but when he tells you, you just laugh and say how silly he is, showing him a hands on tutorial, instructing him on what to do and what you like

loser!choso who constantly asks if he made you cum, poor baby doesn’t want you to go around unsatisfied so he doesn’t everything in his power to make you feel good no matter what

loser!choso who is (obviously) the quiet type, so he studies what you like and what you do by watching you and when he grabs your exact fast food order without you saying anything, you’re standing there confused and he’s looking down at you like “what?”

loser!choso who has a glow up because of you, and girls that have rejected him come crawling back into his life not knowing about you, so he just hits them with the “my beautiful girl who I love very much does not like you talking to me bye” and blocks them

loser!choso who is actually very sweet despite his awkwardness, he might look stand offish in person and act weird around others, but when he’s comfortable with you hes a different person

loser!choso who gets you anything you ask for, spending countless amounts of money on you even if you don’t ask for it, he just loves you so much he wants to show his appreciation in every way whether that’s spoiling you or making you cum

#—☆classyrbf #anime #anime smut #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso x reader smut #choso headcanons #choso smut #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo headcanons #jjk headcanons #jjk choso #choso kamo

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woncheolisms · 7 days ago

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who is in control? (choi seungcheol x reader x yoon jeonghan)

summary: seungcheol doesn’t want to see you with other men. he only wants to see you with jeonghan.

word count: 3k

warnings: scoups x reader (established), jeonghan x reader, smut, nsfw unprotected sex, voyeurism, oral (fem!receiving), orgasm denial, edging, dacryphilia, degradation.

There’s something unbearably attractive about Yoon Jeonghan.

Most of your friends would agree with you. You are absolutely right. Jeonghan is one of the most physically attractive people you have ever seen. Big, beautiful doe eyes, brown like caramel, and soft, long black hair that hits his shoulders and curls around the nape of his neck in a way that looks almost whimsical. He’s skinny, but anyone who looks at him as closely as you do can see how toned his muscles are. He doesn’t have a lot of energy, but he plays a lot of sports, and he’s good at them. You have watched him from the sidelines of these casual games many times, and they always left you with a bit of a thrill running down your spine.

When Seungcheol had first introduced you to Jeonghan, you hadn’t been able to see his face properly in the dim lights of the bar where you met up with your boyfriend after getting off work. He was bathed in shadows, but you could see the way he was laid back against the booth, the light scattered on the planes of his torso, and how smoothly he leaned forward to give you a thin lipped smile, a glimmer in his eyes that you couldn’t tell was for you.

Thus began the guilt. The terrible disgust in your body incited at the thought of being attracted to another man when your hunk of a boyfriend left no stone unturned to take care of you in every way you needed. Seungcheol was your exact type, buff, strong, reliable, with a little bit of a possessive streak. You had been together so long that you settled into a wonderful rhythm, fitting into each other’s lives like fated puzzle pieces. You loved Seungcheol the way you needed to breathe, like a necessity, a fact of life. There was no one in this world for you but him.

You would never date Jeonghan. But you always wondered.

There was something in the way Jeonghan carried himself. A certain self-reassurance that made him attractive to you. He was sharp as all hell, perceptive, and any minute you spent with him, you were paranoid he would figure out these feelings brewing up inside of you. What you should’ve been worried about were the knowing eyes of your boyfriend, trained on you, half lidded and clouded, as if he knew every dirty thought in your mind.

It isn’t until a few nights later, when Seungcheol is balls deep in you, that you realize he knows.

You’re panting and moaning at the feeling, knees squeezing his sides as he pounds hard into you. Sex with Seungcheol is always intense, but tonight he is being especially rough, not that you mind. You love it like this, when his fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips hard enough to color the skin a faint purple, when his thrusts are sloppier but deeper, knocking the air out of your lungs. He hits a spot no one else has ever reached, and you're already coming apart at the seams when he leans down, pushes his weight just right into your chest, and his lips brush the shell of your left ear.

“You want Jeonghan to fuck you like this?”

Your eyes shoot open, breath catching in your throat so harshly you almost choke, but Seungcheol uses that moment to slam hard into you before going still and grinding, so the tip of his cock presses urgently into your sweet spot, and you can’t help but cry out, back lifting off the bed as stars burst in your vision. Strong fingers weave through the roots of your hair as he keeps moving, tugging just enough that you’re forced to meet his eyes, to focus on how blown his pupils are, how flushed his skin is, and how his breath trembles just a bit. You almost come when you are hit with the realization; he’s enjoying this.

“Yes.” You gasp out. “I want to feel him.”

Seungcheol’s mouth tugs up, an almost sadistic glint in his eye. He pulls out, rams back inside. You force your eyes to stay open, taking in his every reaction.

“You wanna see it, Cheolie?” You coo, nails digging into his arms. “You wanna watch while your friend takes what’s yours?”

He groans, and you can almost see the exact moment he falls apart, speeding up his thrusts as he paints your insides white, low curses leaving his lips. His whole body shakes. You wonder how intense his orgasm must have felt, but your thoughts quickly fly out the window when he pulls out and immediately shuffles down, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

……………………………………..

You don’t bring it up afterwards, and neither does he. But something has shifted between you two, you can tell. Now that you know, you notice how Seungcheol looks at you in group settings when Jeonghan is in the vicinity. It’s almost like he’s goading you, wanting you to ogle Jeonghan. To talk to him, to casually touch his arm. And when you get home from these meet ups, sex is always harder, rougher, dirtier.

You are surprised when Seungcheol finally mentions, months later, that he might actually want to act on this.

“Finally.” You tease, nudging his side. He glares at you, but there’s no heat behind it. “I’m surprised, Cheol. I never thought you were the sharing type.”

“I’m not.” You almost want to laugh at how pouty he is being. “Jeonghan is….. different.”

You hum, studying him closely. You know what he means, kind of. Jeonghan is different. He’s alluring in a way that makes everyone want him. And in Seungcheol’s case, he wants to watch him fuck you.

“You need to think about this.” You say. “It’s different when we’re just using the thought to get off, Cheol. Once this happens….”

“I know.” He smirks a bit. “I know what I want.”

His confidence turns you on a bit. But then another thought comes to you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Wait-” You stare at him. “Does…. Does Jeonghan know?”

Seungcheol’s smirk widens. You gape at him.

“What the fuck?” You shriek, hands grabbing the pillow behind you so you can clobber him with it. Seungcheol laughs.

“I wanted to run it by him first!” He protests, holding his arms up to shield himself. You halt.

”And?” Your heart pounds.

Seuncheol looks cheeky as ever. “He’s game.”

…………………………………………

You sigh as the tingles of pleasure spread through your body, blinking up at the ceiling. Your toes curl, and your hips jerk as a particularly strong zip of electricity pulses in your core. Large hands close around the insides of your thighs in response, holding you in place. Unfamiliar hands.

“You move too much.” His voice is so soft it almost pulls you out of your lust filled haze. But you feel his tongue again, licking almost languidly over your clit, and you sink back into the feeling with a sigh.

“She’s really sensitive. You’ll need to hold her down.” A rough voice chimes in from the corner of the room, and your eyes travel to the chair where your boyfriend resides, head low, eyes half lidded, trained on your naked body and the head buried between your legs. He meets your gaze, and you clench hard around nothing at how he is looking at you. You can’t help but revel under his stare.

Jeonghan’s grip tightens on your thighs, holding you open. His mouth closes around your sensitive bud as he sucks hard, just once, enough to make you cry out, before his tongue peeks out again, going back to his lazy licks.

He is nothing like Seungcheol. There’s no urgency in him. He licks and sucks on you languidly, like he has all the time in the world. Seungcheol is impatient, hurried, like he needs to be inside you immediately, but Jeonghan is precise, like he wants to miss no part of you, leave no crevice unexplored. It’s just as intense, if not more.

When his tongue finally dips inside you, you moan and buck up into him again. He pulls back, giving you a hard stare.

“Stay still, princess.” He murmurs, and you almost shrink, like you’re being scolded, but it makes you clench again, a fresh wave of arousal sweeping through you. “Be a good girl and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

He bends down again, nosing at your slit before his tongue plunges into you again, deeper this time, curling a bit, brushing against your gummy walls. The feeling of his tongue combined with his words has you keening, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head to try and control your writhing movements. Your eyes meet Seungcheol’s again, and you notice, even in the dim light, the blush high up on his cheekbones, his hair like a messy mop on his head. He looks as wrecked as you feel.

Jeonghan alternates between fucking you with his tongue and sucking on your clit for the next few minutes, and by then your legs are trembling with the effort of keeping still, your eyes are moist with tears, and you are babbling incoherently, begging for Jeonghan to let you cum. Jeonghan hums contemplatively, lifting his head to look at your boyfriend. His fingers replace his mouth, rubbing and pinching at your clit, and you try not to focus on how the lower half of his face is drenched.

“What do you think? Should she cum now?”

Your head snaps to the side, peering at Seungcheol. He always gave in to you, always. He spoiled you, made you cum multiple times in one night until you had nothing left in you to give. But now, his eyes are sharp, and your heart skips, sinking.

“Not yet.”

You nearly sob, and Jeonghan returns to his torturous ministrations. He sucks harder, licks harder, and he chooses that moment to sink two long fingers into your hole, curling them up to press hard into your walls. You nearly scream, vision swimming, clamping down hard on his digits to keep your impending orgasm at bay. Seungcheol is clearly feeding off Jeonghan’s energy. And Jeonghan is cruel, pumping his fingers in and out of you while his tongue flicks over your clit again and again. He lets you claw at his hands, unfazed, lets you buck up now as much as you want, and just when you feel like you can’t hold on anymore, he pulls away, both tongue and fingers, ripping your building high from you so suddenly you can’t help but cry, hands pressing into your eyes so he can’t see your tears.

Jeonghan coos and coddles you, pressing soft kisses over your hands and gently pulling them away from your face. He licks up the tears as they spill out from the corners of your eyes. He nips at your jaw, sighing into you, running his hands down your sides soothingly.

“Such a good girl.” He whispers. “I know you’ve never done that before, and you did so well. Did exactly what I said. So obedient.”

You bask in the praise, and there’s a heady fog settling over you, numbing you slightly. All you feel is Jeonghan, his lips pressing all over your face and neck, trying to calm you down, take the edge off your neglected orgasm. You wish desperately to feel his lips on you, but it was against Seungcheol’s rules. He wasn’t allowed to kiss you.

You don’t even notice when Jeonghan repositions himself, and it’s only when his cock sinks into you that you gasp, legs drawing up instinctively to take him deeper. Jeonghan smirks at your actions.

“Look at you. Almost out of your mind but you still spread your legs for me.” He tuts. “Slut.”

You clench involuntarily, loving the degradation just as much as you had loved the praise. His cock isn’t as thick as Seungcheol’s, but it is long and curved up, and by the time his pelvis is flush against yours, you feel like you are stuffed full, jaw going slack as you relish in how good it feels to be filled up after so much push-and-pull. Your almost-orgasm has left your body quietly buzzing, until every movement of his cock inside you has sparks shooting up your core. Your vision swims and again, you are already very close to cumming.

Jeonghan grips your hips tight, setting a faster pace compared to his lazy movements earlier. You sigh in satisfaction at the stimulation, at how different his cock feels to what you are used to. He mouths at your neck as he goes, groaning into your shoulder.

“No marks.” You hear, turning your head to see your boyfriend just as still as before. You can’t believe how much restraint he is showing. You can make out the bulge in his pants, struggling against the cloth, but he doesn’t give it any attention. He is too busy watching you, listening to your high pitched moans and the wet sounds your pussy makes as Jeonghan thrusts into you.

“I’m close.” You choke out. “C-can I?”

The question is direction at Seungcheol. Even though the man responsible for your orgasm is Jeonghan, you know it’s really your boyfriend who holds the cards. He is always in control, even when he’s not the one balls deep inside you. He pretends to think about it, before shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Your face crumples and you clench, trying to stop the knot now building rapidly in your stomach. Jeonghan swears, leaning up to stare down at you.

“Fuck, look at you.” He smirks. “This is killing you, isn’t it? Not being allowed to come?”

He snaps his hips harshly, and you clench your jaw so hard it hurts your teeth.

“Beg for it.” He says next, jerking his head towards Seungcheol. “Beg him to let you cum. Come on. Be a good girl.”

And you do. You plead to Seungcheol, strong, reliable Seungcheol, who has never said no to you. You cry to him, tears now flowing freely down your face, as the knot builds and builds, and you keep begging, even as Jeonghan groans and pulls out of you, shooting ropes of cum over your bare stomach. The orgasm is ripped from you again, and you don’t hold back this time. You sob, curling into yourself, wanting more than anything to reach down and finish the job yourself, but so exhausted that you can’t bring yourself to do so.

Gentle hands pull your arms away, tug at your knees until you're lying on your back again, opening up. Your vision swims, but there’s no mistaking the scent of citrus and sandalwood. You are enveloped by the familiar weight of your boyfriend, and your mouth opens to form an ‘O’ when he sinks into you, carving into your abused hole. Your eyes roll up, you keen, feeling so full it nearly turns your brain to mush. Lips brush over your ear, warm breath hitting your skin. His hand reaches for yours, intertwining your fingers together in the most intimate gesture of the night.

“I’ll take care of you, baby.”

He sets a brutal pace, just the way you like it, just the way that sets every cell in your body on fire, until everything around you goes silent and all you feel is Cheol, Cheol, Cheol, like a mantra in your head, a prayer on your lips, and when the knot in your core tightens again, back with a vengeance, you look up at him, at the dark hair that falls over his eyes, cherry pink lips parted as he breathes hard and heavy, fucking into you with an urgency that could only be built by waiting and watching all night. He smiles at you, soft despite how rough his movements are, almost touched that despite being nearly delirious, you still ask for his green light. He reaches his free hand down, pressing harshly into your clit, forehead pressing to yours so he doesn’t miss a single expression on your face.

“Cum.”

And so you finally do. Writhing and jerking under him like your very soul is being ripped from your body. Lights burst in your vision, going white before they go black, and no sound leaves your mouth. You are almost paralyzed by the force of your orgasm, and you can barely feel when Seungcheol groans in finally and spills warm and deep inside you, a claim he would never let any man make on you, not even Jeonghan. At the end of the day, you are his only. At the end of the day, you will cum on his cock only. No one else’s.

You don’t remember how long you are out of it, but when you come to, gentle lips are planting kisses on your shoulder. You feel warm, half from the heat of Seungcheol’s naked torso against your back, and half from the blanket now thrown over the two of you. In the distance, you can hear the shower running, and a soft voice humming.

“Are you back with me, baby?” Seungcheol turns you to him slowly, and you wince at the movement. You are sure you aren’t going to walk for a while after this.

You hum and look at him, taking in his relaxed posture and clear, bright eyes. You can’t help but smile.

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