#I keep saying I need to keep these simple

[buckysleftbicep]

exit wounds 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, choking, hairpulling, rough sex, degradation, overstimulation, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, possessiveness, dom!bucky, angst

summary: after you put yourself in danger once again during a mission, bucky finally snaps.

word count: 3.2k

author's note: hello my loves, i hope you enjoy this fic! also, i am currently looking through all the requests i've received and am excited to say i got started on a few! so please, keep sending them, fresh ideas always helps me write better! love you guys and please stay safe out there!

want him so badly

The storm broke before the mission did.

Rain pelted the shattered rooftops, thunder cracked above as you darted through the ruined alleyways of Bucharest, your pulse hammering in your ears. The objective was simple, get in, extract the intel, get out.

“Left. Take the left,” Bucky’s voice crackled through your comms, taut with command.

“I see the target,” you shot back, breathless. “I’m going in.”

“You go in alone, and I swear to god—”

You cut the line.

Not because you were being reckless. You knew what you were doing. You had spent hours upon hours studying the building’s layout, the guards’ rotations, and the window of opportunity that was already closing.

You didn’t need him barking orders in your ear. And you especially didn’t need your boyfriend second-guessing you when you were this close to securing the objective.

But then, behind you—boots pounded on wet concrete, close, fast, and furious.

“Fuck—(y/n)!”

Too late.

The intel was secured. The flash drive sat warm in the lining of your suit, pressed against your sternum. On paper, the mission was a success.

But the cost?

Three injured agents. A building engulfed in fire. And Bucky’s silence on the jet ride towards the nearest safehouse, the tension was thick enough to choke on. He hadn’t looked at you once.

Not when you handed Val the drive. Not when she nodded coolly and dismissed you without a word of praise. Not when the soft hydraulic hiss of the safehouse doors opened and when the rest of the team shuffled in like ghosts.

Now it was just the two of you. The others had scattered quietly, retreating to their temporary rooms for the night. The rain still dripped from your suit's collar, blood clung dry beneath your fingernails, and the silence between you and Bucky pulsed like a second heartbeat.

You peeled your damp tactical vest from your shoulders and tossed it onto the table. Every breath you took felt too loud in the stillness. Your skin was still buzzed with leftover adrenaline and heat, you didn't know if it was from the mission of the confrontation you knew was about to come.

You heard the final set of footsteps retreat, then the soft click of the outer door.

Still, you didn’t turn around.

“I had it,” you said calmly, your voice flat but controlled. “You didn’t need to come after me.”

He didn’t respond at first.

But you could feel him. The tension radiated off him like heat off an engine block. You didn’t need to look to know his jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. You could already feel his glare burning through your back almost as if it was trying to set you aflame.

You met his eyes—cerulean, but sharper than usual. Tense. Controlled.

“I got the drive, didn’t I?”

“That’s not the fucking point,” he snapped, the steel in his voice sharp now. “Three agents could’ve died (y/n). You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t,” you bit out. “And I wasn’t going to.”

His mouth twisted, his chest heaving once before he spoke again, voice splintering. “You think I give a shit about your stats? Your little field heroics?” His voice cracked then, just slightly.

“You think I want to scrape you off the concrete one day just because you were too stubborn to follow the damn protocol?”

You barked a bitter laugh. "Funny. You’ve been quiet up until now.”

He moved fast.

One moment, he was across the room. The next, he was inches from you, towering, taut with anger, fist clenched so tight you could see the veins straining in his forearm.

“You wanna say that again?” he asked, low and dangerous.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to flinch. “I said—”

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply. “Don’t test me tonight.”

“Why not?” you hissed. “You’ve been dying to explode since we landed Bucky. Go ahead. Yell. Blame me. Do what you always do when you don’t get your damn way—”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t move.

He just looked at you. And somehow, that was worse.

The silence that followed crackled with heat. His jaw tensed, eyes burning into yours like he was holding back with everything he had.

Then, slow and deliberate, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His body radiated heat, tension rolling off him in waves.

“You think this is about me?” he whispered, dangerously quiet now.

“You think I give a fuck if I look bad in the debrief? I don’t care about orders, (y/n). I care about you. And you made the call without backup, without thinking. Again."

“I knew what I was doing,” you murmured, but it came out thinner now.

“And if you were wrong?” he snapped. His breath hit your cheek—damp, hot, ragged. “If I hadn’t gone in after you?”

You couldn’t answer. Because you didn’t know.

And suddenly the room felt too small. Too close. Your heart pounded against your ribs like it wanted out.

He was so close you could smell the rain still clinging to his skin, see the soaked-through fabric of his black shirt clinging to every line of muscle. His hair was still damp, curling around his jaw as his chest rose and fell with heavy, measured breaths.

He looked frayed at the edges, barely holding it together, and burning with fury.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said, voice rough. “You think I care about the mission? You think I care about what Val thinks?”

Your breath hitched.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered. “I was just… I needed to prove I could handle it.”

He took another step forward. “To who?”

You blinked.

“To Val? The team?” He shook his head, eyes narrowing. “Or to me?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Your silence said enough.

Bucky’s hand came up, not fast, not aggressive, but deliberate. It hovered near your jaw, then gently ghosted along the column of your throat. Two fingers settled over your pulse, barely there. Feeling it. Reading you.

“You think I don’t see you?” he murmured. “Think I don’t know what you’re trying to prove every time you run headfirst into danger like you have nothing to lose?”

“You don’t have to be reckless to be worthy of standing next to me,” he said, and something broke in his voice then. Softer. Almost broken. “You already are.”

Your breath stuttered.

You hadn’t meant to move. You hadn’t even noticed your body leaning forward until your chest brushed his. Until you felt the ragged breath he caught against your cheek, until your eyes met his, and everything stopped.

He looked at you like he was drowning in everything he hadn’t said, rage, fear, hunger, all of it right there in his eyes, barely held back.

His thumb brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up. His touch was light, barely there, but it felt like the only thing tethering you to the ground.

“You keep pushing me,” he said, voice low and quiet, the kind of quiet that carried weight.

His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Always testing. Always toeing the line.”

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, pulse fluttering beneath your skin. A slow ache bloomed between your thighs, the kind that only got worse when you held his gaze.

“And what if I’m doing it on purpose?” you murmured. “What if I want you to snap?”

Something shifted behind his gaze, a flicker of heat barely restrained, and the air between you crackled like a live wire. His jaw flexed, his body unmoving, and then, the corner of his mouth lifted. Slow, measured, anything but kind.

“You really want to see what happens when I do?” he gritted out

“Maybe I like seeing how far I can push you.”

You didn’t get a second to breathe.

His hand clamped around your throat, not hard enough to cut off your air, but firm enough to remind you who was in control as he shoved you backward.

You stumbled, caught off guard, and then—without warning, he turned you. One arm braced across your shoulders, the other sliding between your thighs. You barely had time to gasp before he was behind you, chest flush to your back, hips grinding into your ass.

His body pinned you in place, unforgiving and close, and suddenly there was no space, no air, nothing except the burn of him against you and the way your body reacted, fast, instinctive and shameless.

“You want to push me?” Bucky snarled, the words like gravel dragged through his teeth. “Then take it. Don’t you fucking run from it now.”

Your pulse throbbed wildly beneath his fingers. He felt it—you knew he did—because he smiled against your neck. It wasn’t kind. It was the smile of a man barely containing the storm underneath, teeth bared like a wolf on a leash.

You tried to turn your head, to spit something sharp, something defiant, but his metal hand was there in an instant, pinning your cheek to the wall with a ruthless kind of tenderness. Cold vibranium fingers spread across your jaw, holding you still like he was lining up a shot.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to,” he growled. “You don’t get to talk back. Not after the fucking stunt you pulled.”

Then—he tore your suit open.

The front zipper split with a vicious rip, teeth dragging down your sternum, and then the fabric was shoved roughly off your shoulders. Your bra came into view, your skin prickling in the open air, exposed and vulnerable and throbbing with anticipation.

He didn’t hesitate.

His mouth latched onto the side of your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, and your body reacted instantly, arching toward him, heat coiling low in your belly, wetness pooling between your thighs before you could even think to stop it.

It was humiliating how fast he had you soaked.

“Fucking wet,” he hissed, voice sharp with satisfaction. His flesh hand slid down the front of your suit. Two fingers pressed through your panties and straight into your slit, finding you hot, drenched and needy. “You’re dripping, sweetheart. All that mouth and you still want me this bad?”

You moaned—shameless, high-pitched and he growled like it offended him.

“Pathetic.”

Your suit hit the ground in a heap, shoved down carelessly around your boots. He didn’t bother to strip you completely, he didn’t need to. He just yanked them down far enough to spread your thighs apart, leaving you open, exposed, and trembling.

Then you heard it—the heavy clink of his belt, the hiss of his zipper. Your body jolted at the sound.

“Look at you,” he muttered, low and mean. “Begging to be fucked like a slut after risking your life like a dumb little brat.” The words hit you hard and god, they made your pussy throb.

You clenched around nothing, slick dripping down your thighs, and the worst part was how much you loved it. How much you needed more, needed him.

Your breath stuttered, your hips tilting back instinctively, shameless in how fast you were unraveling for him. You didn’t care what he called you. As long as he didn’t stop. As long as he fucked you like he meant every filthy word.

He pumped his cock once—twice—right behind you. You could feel it already, flushed and hard and heavy, the tip brushing the curve of your ass as he lined himself up.

“You wanted this,” Bucky rasped, voice dragging low and dark. “You pushed me on purpose. You knew exactly what would happen.”

You whimpered, cheeks burning.

And then he laughed, low and cruel and knowing.

“You like it when I’m like this, don’t you?”

His cock dragged through your folds—slick with your arousal, bumping your clit before dipping lower, teasing your entrance with maddening pressure. You nearly sobbed.

“Y-yes… I like it,” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your thighs trembled. “I wanted it. I wanted this. W-wanted you like this.”

He slammed into you.

You cry out, the stretch splitting you wide open in one unrelenting thrust. No warning. No mercy. Your nails scraped against the wall as your body spasmed around him, pussy clenching instinctively around the thick length now buried to the hilt.

“Oh my fucking—”

He slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Be quiet,” he gritted out, breath hot on your ear. “They’ll hear you.”

You moaned into his palm, the sound muffled and desperate, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as he began to move—long, deep thrusts that rocked your entire body.

Each snap of his hips sent you forward, your chest jolting against the cold wall with every brutal push. Your legs shook beneath you, barely able to hold you up under the weight of him, his rhythm, his heat, the relentless way he claimed every inch of your body.

His cock hit every spot inside you—deep, relentless, perfect in its punishment. Each thrust drove you harder into the wall, your palms flattened against the cold surface, fingers splayed like you were holding on for dear life.

The air was thick with the sound of slick skin and broken moans, the wet slap of him pounding into you again and again until all you could do was whimper, body shaking, needing more.

He was ruthless.

“You feel that?” he grunted, fucking into you harder. “You feel how deep I am? Fuck, princess, your pussy’s squeezing me.”

You nodded, eyes rolling back. Everything was too much. Not enough.

He grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, lips brushing your ear.

“You gonna come already? Just from this? From getting fucked like you’re made for it?”

You tried to speak, tried to form a word, a plea, anything but your mouth refused to work. All that came out was a desperate, broken moan, choked off by the force of him inside you.

Every muscle in your body was strung tight, overwhelmed, aching, begging for release, but all you could do was let the sound of your need echo in the space between you, raw and strung out and wordless.

He let go of your mouth and slapped your ass—hard.

“Say it,” he snarled. “Tell me how badly you want to come.”

“I, god—I need it,” you choked. “Please, need your cock, need you to—”

He pulled out. Completely.

You cry, voice raw with frustration.

Bucky laughed, voice thick with dominance.

“Look at you. Falling apart already. And I haven’t even gotten started.”

Before you could respond, he seized your wrists and twisted them behind your back, pinning them there easily with his hand. The cool press of vibranium against your skin made your breath hitch, your chest rising in shallow gasps.

You barely had time to brace yourself before he drove back into you—harder, deeper, with a force that knocked a strangled sound from your throat and sent sparks ricocheting through your core.

Your body jolted. Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry. His flesh hand wrapped around your waist, fingers finding your clit again—rubbing tight, relentless circles in time with each brutal thrust.

You were unravelling, your legs burned and your body trembled. You were a babbling, incoherent mess as your orgasm built again—rising like a fucking tsunami.

“Don’t you dare come,” he growled. You tried. Fuck, you tried.

But he was everywhere—his cock driving into that sweet spot deep inside you with ruthless precision, his fingers working your clit in tight, relentless circles that had you trembling. His voice, low and filthy, poured into your ear like sin itself, each word pushing you closer to the edge.

“Say it,” he rasped. “Say who owns you.”

You sobbed.

“You do, Bucky! You do—”

“Good fucking girl.”

And then he snapped his hips again, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your throat.

You came with a strangled cry, body seizing as pleasure tore through you like a live wire. Your cunt clenched around him in tight, desperate pulses, milking every inch as wetness spilled down your thighs, slicking his cock and coating both of you in heat and ruin.

You slumped forward, forehead pressed to the wall, barely able to hold yourself upright as your orgasm wracked through you.

But he didn’t stop, he kept going—kept fucking you through it like he was trying to brand you from the inside out.

You sobbed, body trembling uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” he snarled. “Take it. Cry if you want princess, I’m not stopping.”

Your knees gave out, barely holding you upright and then the second wave hit. He slammed into you hard, tearing through your body before you had a chance to catch your breath.

You clenched around him again, tighter this time, a cry ripping from your throat as you came all over his cock. Everything blurred, your vision, your thoughts, until all that was left was the sharp pulse of pleasure and the rough sound of him still moving behind you.

“Gonna fill you up,” he muttered, pounding into you with short, broken thrusts. “Stuff you full, just like you deserve. Let it drip down those pretty thighs. Let everyone see who fucked you like this.”

He groaned—loud, rough—and then shuddered, cock twitching as he spilled inside you. You felt the warmth of it, the pulse of his release, the way his entire body seemed to collapse into yours.

The only sound was your wrecked breathing, the whine of your body, and the soft drip of his cum sliding down your thighs.

You were trembling, undone in every possible way—mind blank, body limp, pleasure still echoing through your nerves. Your knees wouldn’t hold you, but he didn’t let you fall. His arms were around you instantly, strong and steady, pulling you into his chest like he could anchor you there, like he needed to.

His breathing was still ragged, chest rising and falling against your back. His lips pressed to your temple, slow and soft, and you felt the way he lingered, like he was grounding himself, too.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, barely able to speak. Tears still clung to your lashes, not from pain, not even from the intensity, but from the overwhelming ache in your chest.

He kissed your temple again. Then your jaw. Then the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again.” he murmured.

You blinked, surprised by the tremble in his voice. He wasn’t angry. Not now.

“I can’t—” he swallowed, brow pressed to yours. “I know you’re capable, I know you’re smart. But I can’t watch you walk into something like that again.”

Your throat tightened.

“I thought I could handle it,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “No. No more of that. If something happened to you out there—”

He cut himself off. Pulled you closer. One hand cradled the back of your head. The other still wrapped around your waist, like he was afraid you would slip through his fingers.

“You don’t get to scare the shit out of me like that,” he rasped, voice cracking. “I’ve lost so much—and, fuck, I can’t lose you too.”

He looked away, just for a second, like the words hurt to say.

“I wouldn’t survive it.”

You nuzzled into his chest, heart hammering. His scent, his warmth, the rasp of his voice in your ear, it was all too much and not enough.

“I’m sorry,” you said, small and hoarse.

Bucky didn’t say anything right away. He just held you tighter, kissed the top of your head.

“I know”

requests are open!

[retiredteabag]

jjk guys & their love languages

Including: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna, Toji, and Suguru

*the five love languages are pseudoscience, but I think there is something to say about preferences*

Gojo

His love language: words of affirmation

You would think that he would have been praised all his life, being the strongest and all. But there is nothing that flusters him more than a kind word or two. He'll act unaffected or brush it off, maybe even pretend to be cocky, but the prominent blush that appeared when you compliment him is telling.

"You're really generous, you know?"

He would have done something simple, paid for lunch, bought the students a new TV, filled the lounge with snacks, who knows. He's always doing things for others.

"Pshh, it's nothing!"

He would wave off your praise, feeling giddy nonetheless.

"No, seriously, you're really thoughtful and giving, Satoru, it's sweet."

Oh, he's just delighted! With the expectation he's held to being so high, it isn't often that people feel the need to validate him. Verbal recognition was never something he could get over easily.

Even so, while he is constantly in need of attention, feeding off of the love someone may give to him, he never seems to be able to just say, 'thank you'.

Sweet.

You had called him sweet.

He now has daydream material for months.

The way he shows love: quality time

One would think that he would prioritize gift-giving when it came to showing love, but I don't necessarily think that's the case. He doesn't see gifts as a big deal; having grown up living lavishly, he would much rather show you with his actions.

I don't imagine you would ever have to plan a date with Satoru. That man is on it. If you ever mention wanting to do something, he will remember it and make it happen.

It's not that he isn't interested in your planning; it's just that at the end of every hangout (pre-relationship and during), he's already scheduling your next get-together.

He gets withdrawals if you're not around enough, of course, he can't let that happen.

Nanami

His love language: physical touch

Here's the thing: it's very typical for a man's "love language" to be physical touch in a slimy, objectifying way. Where he doesn't express his "love" to any degree other than sexual acts and lacks proaction in any other mode of expressing intimacy.

This is not the case with Nanami Kento.

He is the most attentive man you will ever meet, patient to a t, and loving in the gentlest of ways. He adores quality time with you, is endlessly appreciative of any gift, it warms his heart to hear you say kind things, and thoughtful acts of service never go unnoticed.

After years together, though, it is still the case that nothing causes his heart to race quite like when you reach over and grab his hand.

After a long day of work, having you come to the foyer and wrap your arms around him lifts any stress right off his shoulders.

A kiss on the cheek will have him distracted for hours.

Cuddling with you is a divine experience for him.

Even just a casual touch during conversation causes him to stutter.

And as much as he tries to hide how affected he is by you, he just can't deny himself for very long.

The way he shows love: acts of service

It's not intentional for him, he just never wants to ask anything of you. He is happy to fix anything, complete any chore, do any task, so long as it keeps you from having to work.

If you are ever stressed, he will do everything in his power to cause it to cease. You never have to ask him to take out the trash or clean up after himself, he respects your shared space and likes nothing more than doing these little things for you.

It's almost as if he is able to anticipate your needs, he is always there in your corner, supporting you however he can.

And every time he hears an "Oh, Ken, you didn't have to do that!" He is determined to show you just how high your standards ought to be.

Choso

His love language: words of affirmation

It truly does not matter how many times you tell this man that you love him, that he's so good to you, that he's your cute baby, that he did a good job, that he's a strong and brave hero, that he makes you happy, that you cherish his company... it always feels like the first time to him.

His stomach does these little summersaults whenever you verbalize your recognition of him, causing him to squirm in his seat.

If he's ever having a hard time, maybe the day seems to be dragging on, he just recalls when you kissed his cheek, murmuring into his chest, "Have a good day, Cho, I love you."

And he's rubbing his ears in embarrassment, attempting to hide his grin.

The way he shows love: physical touch

He didn't have much practice expressing love for a few hundred years before meeting you, the love he has for his brothers is real, but it's different than what he feels for you.

Anytime he gets that tingly feeling in his chest and his cheeks start to heat up, he just wants to bury you in his arms. When he sees you laying on the couch, bundled up in a blanket, he has to hold himself back from smothering you in a bear hug.

It's fair to say he has a bit of cuteness aggression; sometimes he just gets stuck in the act of kissing you, not wanting to let go of your hand. Trying his best to transport the love he has for you into your body, straight from his.

It's actually quite difficult for him to control himself; you ought to be proud of him.

If you tell him you're proud of him though, he might just implode.

Sukuna

His love language: quality time

Oh boy, this man does not need anything from you but your presence; you don't need to be going anywhere, doing anything, speaking at all, just being together is enough for him.

He was alone for so long that being with you, no matter the circumstance, is special.

He'll let you sleep on his lap, listen to whatever you say without interruption, and regularly dedicate time to your company.

He would never say it, but if he goes too long without being around you, he becomes a little crazy.

(a oneshot I wrote about something similar)

The way he shows love: gift giving

This was a toss-up, like his love language, he also expresses his love with quality time, but since he thinks of it as his own special enjoyment, he also showers you with anything you like.

They often come as a surprise, the gestures he makes for you. Randomly finding flowers around your room, the thoughtful presents that arrive anytime he goes out, and the symbolic tokens he adorns you in for every festivity.

The main gift you will never stop receiving, though, are all the letters he sends you. Perfectly artistic is his calligraphy, the handmade pages can be found slipped under your chamber door, resting on your workbench in the greenhouse, or hand delivered by a servant.

When he discovers you have kept every last note he has written, he feels his pulse stammer for the first time.

Toji

His love language: acts of service

He lives to serve, always has, always will. More than anyone else you've met, this man is a giver; perhaps that is why it kind of holds him up short the first time you offer to shave him.

He had never had someone offer, and it didn't take him long to realize that your constant willingness to do little things for him ruffles his ability to remain nonchalant.

Why is he feeling so flustered?

One day over dinner you heard him complain about needing to fill up his tank before going out on a job. You spun around in your apron, shaking your head,

"Oh, did I not say? I got gas for your car this morning."

He had never kissed you so desperately as he had in that moment.

When he sees that you've gone grocery shopping, made him coffee, or offered to scratch his back, he's just at a loss for words.

The way he shows love: acts of service

Hey, he's an easy guy, like I said, he's super giving, especially with you. He knows that he loves all the little supportive behaviors you do for him, so he makes an effort to sacrifice for you in the same ways.

He especially loves to warm up towels for you when you get out of the shower, or toss a blanket in the dryer to cover you while he folds the laundry. When you let him, he’ll kneel down to tie your shoes or zip up your coats.

He's a real problem-solver too, in whatever situation, he will never hesitate to take the lead whenever he can lighten your load.

Suguru

His love language: quality time

It does not elude him how appreciative he feels every time you choose to be around him. There is only one priority in his life, second to his cult, and that is you.

Uninterrupted conversations with you are a must for his sanity. All the little shared activities you take part in, watching a show, reading a book, enjoying your lunches, stargazing etc. keep him together.

When he's away from you, his focus lies ahead, to a time when he can hold your gaze once more.

Got forbid you ever end up sleeping apart, he needs you next to him to be able to rest peacefully.

His desperation to be around you only grows by the day, whether it's preparing breakfast, going for a walk, or completing projects, there is nobody he would rather be with than you.

The way he shows love: words of affirmation

If this man is anything, it is free with his praise.

He just can't hold himself back from cooing out his admiration for every little thing about you. It was so embarrassing at first, all the compliments, the recognition, the force that was his attention.

You couldn't do anything without him making a comment:

"Well, aren't you sweet."

"My, you're a hard worker."

"Well done! I'm proud of you."

Whether it's completing a strenuous task or something as simple as preparing tea, he is loose with his appreciation.

And don't even get me started on his flattery, not a day passes where he was not taken by your beauty, of course, he needs to tell you.

Your sheepish thanks and endless blushing did nothing to hinder him in this regard; in fact, it only made him want to tell you more.

He is particularly fond of whispering in your ear sweet little words that cause you to teeter between smacking him and pulling him down for a kiss.

my masterlist

artists: Gojo - @deka_sad. Nanami - @neconi_o0 + unknown. Choso - from the manga + unknown. Sukuna - @Su2kuna. Toji - @Hunnismoker. Suguru - @Zijingpap.

[ybklix]

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

۶ৎ giving your boyfriend a gift that will help him in his long and lonely nights when you can’t be there for him. ⋆˚࿔ pairing: idol bf felix x fem reader

cw: mdni, smut, softdom felix, masturbation, fingering, teasing, overstimulation, sextape, sextoys, slight dirty talk, pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, backshots, creampie.

wc: 7.3k

｡°❀ 🫧 into you by ariana grande ‧ꕤ.ﾟ🫧 good for you by selena gomez ｡°❀ 🫧pornstar by nessa barret ‧ꕤ.ﾟ🫧

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 .𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

wen’s note: im delulu rn, I love my man :3 !! sorry (a freshly cooked fic—that hasn’t been in the drafts for monthssss, enjoy) + im backkk yassss:)

It’s your last day. The last day the two of you will be together, physically, for a long time. In a few hours, very early in the morning, you will take a flight back ‘home’ —if you can call home wherever Felix isn’t with you— and you will feel nothing but sadness and emptiness. You just know that days are approaching when a video call with him is what keeps you happy.

Your love life with Felix is facing another challenge: overcoming the distance between you. You don’t usually complain much about it, as you don’t want to be a burden to Felix, constantly complaining how much you miss him when he has to go far away, doing what he is most passionate about in the world, you know how much it means to him to be on stage, so you shut up all the whims you think because of the huge need to have him next to you all the time. So sadly, it’s just your last day on your quick visit, and, as much as you’d like to be there for him, going from city to city, country to country on his tour, you both have your respective lives. It was so painful just thinking about when the next time you will be able to see him.

So, you just decide to enjoy every moment together, trying not to think about the cruel reality that is approaching. Tonight, you are about to go out, taking advantage of the fact that it’s Felix’s short break and his concert is tomorrow. So you’re getting all dolled up, trying a soft and subtle makeup, pretty enough to take pictures with your boyfriend and calm your hair as best as you can, while choosing a cute, modest and inconspicuous outfit, since you’ll be wearing a cap anyway, because you have to go incognito all the time with Felix, plus Seungmin and Jeongin would join your date, just to have them as the perfect excuse if someone recognizes your super star boyfriend, so their eyes would go to the super star trio and not you and Felix only.

Night is just falling, painting the sky a beautiful color and reflecting in the huge window of the hotel room. Felix is face down on the bed, using his brand-new cellphone, relaxed and happy, waiting for you to finish getting ready so he can call his friends and go out to explore the city.

“Wow, baby, the quality is insane.”

You hear Felix say, happy and excited, followed by the sheets shifting, indicating that he has stood up. You come out of the bathroom, with a smile as you put on your earrings and see your boyfriend, standing in front of the large window filming the view with his cell phone.

“Really? Let me see, love” you reply, moving closer to him.

As soon as Felix hears your voice and senses your presence, he turns his body with a tender smile and records you approaching him. Felix seems to be happy with the gift of his new cell phone, which he made a whole advertising campaign for. He records you standing in front of him for a few seconds, and then turns his body with his device towards the cityscape behind the window. You crane your neck to see the screen, but you turn your attention away when you see how cute your boyfriend looks, his tender smile and his carefree no-makeup look perfectly highlighting the smoothness of his skin with his visible freckles. You said nothing more than a simple:

“I’m almost ready… just let me put on my setting spray and gloss. You can call Seungmin and Jeongin already if you want.”

Felix keeps recording, motioning his arm gently, he gives you a quick glance along with a smile as a sign that he heard you, and you walk to complete your look so you can stroll with your boyfriend, one night before you leave and not see him for a month.

“Oh, almost forgot!” Felix exclaims, he stops recording and puts the cell phone back in his pocket quickly; you turn to look at him, confused since he got your attention. “I’ll help you pack so you don’t come from the date doing it.”

“Oh, Felix, you don’t have to…” you comment sweetly, touched that he feels he has to help you with everything.

He doesn’t listen to you, and you watch him tenderly take from one of the bedroom chairs the Louis Vuitton travel bag in its classic, signature print that he gifted you, and places it on the bed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetheart. Go finish getting ready, I’ll help you with this real quick.”

You chuckle softly, and in less than two minutes, you’re completely ready. You approach your boyfriend, playfully and plop down on the bed, close to him and your bag, as you watch him tenderly folding your clothes that were lying on the bed and arrange them inside the bag.

“I’m ready” you say, with a sigh.

The truth is, you don’t want the day to go on as it means it’s getting less and less time before you have to go and leave him.

“I’m almost done, princess. You look beautiful, by the way” he replies, focused on your clothes.

You let him do it because you know he’s a bit stubborn, and then he’d go and complain to you that you need to get your act together. You watch him, nonchalant, in no hurry for him to finish, staying with him like this, even in the silence, feels so good, so right, and calm.

Felix can’t help but blush, though, realizing that this is the fifth set of lingerie he’s had to pack for a trip you’ve only been with him for three days. So he jokes a little with you about it.

“Mmm… you kind of packed a lot of lingerie, don’t you think, princess? I’ve seen more pretty panties than blouses of yours.”

Felix raises his gaze, watching you with a playful, suggestive look and a mischievous smile as he carefully folds one of your blue panties, a part of the full set. You smile broadly, you can’t help it, still feeling a smoldering embarrassment with mischief.

“I know. I’m sorry… I didn’t know which one was the best, so I brought several options.”

“Whatever you wear looks beautiful on you” he whispers softly, causing heat to your cheeks.

Felix takes another pair of cheeky panties and spreads them out, teasing you with a smirk.

“Can I keep one?” his eyebrow twitches, cheekily.

“Felix!” you laughed, your eyes widening in surprise and playfully snatching the garment from him to drop it into your purse, your cheeks burning hot, as if he hadn’t seen all of you before. “The boys are going to think they’re your panties... but it’s okay, you can keep them, you’re the one who buys them for me, anyway.” You tilt your head, “Do you want something sweet to remember me?” you joke, teasing him.

He laughs, licking his lips, staring at you as he instinctively bites his bottom lip. “Which one will you wear tonight for me, huh? You have plenty of options, doll…. You should have modeled all your options for me, I’d have loved to see that.”

His voice sounds rough, a confession somewhere between a joke and a tone of absolute truth. You know perfectly well how much he loves to dress you in pretty lingerie, tease you in it and then end up naked, or just fucking you with it on. Felix stops his action, waiting for a response from you, but with the intensity of his gaze, you were already short of breath. There is a feigned innocence in his sweet face that contrasts with that look and soft grin you know so well. He is trying to start something.

“I can do it tonight… but can you handle it?” you raise your eyebrows, subtly teasing him further.

Your intentions are not to start something sexual just now, you were just about to go out on the town… two of his best friends are waiting to be given the signal to go out the four of you… but the way he smiles, superficially running the tip of his tongue across his lips to then catch his muscle between his teeth, is giving you another kind of impression... A subtle, cheeky, kind of dirty impression.

He looks at you for a few seconds, doesn’t respond, and lowers his gaze back to your clean clothes, ready to pack, and that’s when you notice his true intention.

“Oh look at this one, it’s too pretty, why didn’t you wear it for me?”

Felix changes the subject, still using his flirtatious and suggestive tone. You watch his hands take from the small pile of clothes a tiny piece of clothing, a white thong so sheer it covered practically nothing and, he subtly shows it to you.

You feel warmth in your cheeks again. Somehow you find it slightly embarrassing when he shows it to you like this, so suddenly. But what’s slowly ruining it for you is knowing exactly what your boyfriend wanted.

“Although I confess… there’s not much to wear with this so small” he laughs, examining the garment.

You watch your boyfriend’s face, his gaze lingering on that garment you packed when you thought of him, when you thought of all the nights you couldn’t be together and how much you wanted to make up for all that time. The shame leaves your body as you notice how obviously excited Felix is now, you know him so well, despite him wearing an oversized shirt, you can notice so clearly the change in his breathing, the change in his gaze, his more serious expression.

He looks back at you, almost guilty that his thoughts have been discovered and you find his reaction adorable, quickly looking away from you and sighing subtly in halting breath as he puts the thong in your bag, pretending nothing happened.

You examine him. The silence speaks for itself, in a way it’s loaded with adorable tension, because you love him too much, because you know what he wants but you both don’t know how to say it… at least the first few seconds. You smile happily, thinking it’s cute that he’s most likely already hard from just imagining you in that little garment… and you find it ridiculous… because Felix had you right there, now, in front of him, willing and madly in love with him, if your boyfriend wants to fuck you right now, he can. Now, while he still can.

“Felix” you call his name softly.

Now you’re the one looking at him intently.

“Mhumm?” he hums softly, unable to look you in the eye.

It’s true. You know him so well. Felix is terribly and helplessly aroused. Just with the power of his thought, with your closeness, with the intoxicating smell of your perfume that drives him crazy… at the same time he is just as, if not more, sad than you as he tries to pretend that everything is fine, but he is going to miss you deeply. Not seeing you until further notice… until you both can match… is killing him alive.

“You want me to wear it… for you?”

“Wear what, my love?” he pretends not to know, but his erection grows each time in his pants.

He doesn’t know what he’s thinking clearly… maybe that he’ll just get over the feeling, that he’ll be fine and have you all to himself after your nice date. But who is he fooling, he is never casual about you, neither takes you lightly. You on the other hand, know exactly what state his body and mind is in… but you can’t confirm it due to the bag blocking your view of his bulge a bit.

“The… thong you said was pretty.”

You feel slightly embarrassed. You find the word thong immaturely amusing.

Felix dares to look at you, notices the seriousness of your face, your cheeks slightly pink naturally beyond the blush you’re wearing. So what if you both want it? He’s your boyfriend and can tell you anything with confidence. Still, he responds demurely:

“Yes, when we come from the date. You’ll look beautiful in it.”

Felix flashes a smile and remains determined to finish your travel bag. You find it nerve-wracking, for a few seconds, as you’re getting impatient… and slightly horny at the thought of tasting your boyfriend right now, right there.

“Are you okay?” you ask more curtly.

He nods, making a nonchalant grimace. You can’t believe it.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Your smile widens, more brazenly. You don’t know if he’s tentatively playing with you, faking that innocence so he can get closer to you.. either way, it’s already starting, you can feel it in the air, it’s undeniable, deep and tangible.

“Because I think you got so worked up from just imagining me in those panties… do you want me to wear them for you, right now, baby?” you drop, slowly and seductively.

A sultry voice and piercing gaze that made Felix shudder and swallow nervously. Felix’s breath shortens, and his world stops for a second, and the silence speaks for itself once again. No matter how many times he makes you his, each time it impresses him and sends his feelings into overdrive as if it’s the first time he’s going to touch you; he adores you with that intensity.

“C’mon, baby, you know you can take me right now if you want. I’m always ready for you” you almost beg.

The corners of his lips quiver at your confession, trying to contain a flirtatious, nervous smile of utter glee. This time, he’s really playing with you as he says more confidently, trying to keep his sanity.

“No, love… I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m fine.”

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, inviting him to keep challenging you.

“Oh yeah? Then stop that and call Seungmin and Jeongin already to leave, now” you mention, more impatient, challenging him.

Felix runs his tongue along the inside of his cheeks, amused, finding it amusing the way you’ve figured him out, that you’ve won, that you know exactly his next move, it’s obvious he can’t do it, he has an uncontrollable erection caused by you. You take your garments from his hand, approaching him slowly and dangerously, finally pushing aside the bag, in effect revealing the noticeable bulge in his shorts.

You smirk nervously, watching his notorious erection and then directing your gaze until you fix it on his eyes, his nice, dark, big eyes, changing in seconds, from soft domination, to needing to be touched.

You move closer to him without standing completely, dragging your bottom across the bed until you are finally facing him, his vulnerable aroused body, his bulge in front of you, begging for your strokes and attention, causing in you the sweet throbbing of your sex, your body rushing rapidly, heart pounding, breath hitching and the sublime, dominating sight of your aroused boyfriend clouding your judgment, your judgment to keep your temper.

“Well… you’re indeed fine…” you look down at his bulge brazenly and return your submissive eyes to him, your mouth salivating loudly, “But what kind of girlfriend would I be if I don’t take care of my needy boyfriend?”

He gives you a half smile and strokes your hair with his right hand gently. You place your hands on either side of his thighs and bring your face close to his body, close enough to brush against his erection, teasing him, tensing him, raising your gaze to convey to him through your gaze all that you may be capable of right now. You maintain eye contact, your body squeezes his erection tighter, causing him to bite his lip hotly, holding in a moan… You are both being painfully patient with each other; it kills you in a way that is both ardent and pleasurable at the same time. His grip on your hair becomes more consistent, heavy, and intense. You let your chin rest on his abdomen and your hands seek to caress his thighs, finding the feel of his cell phone in his pockets. You’re so fucking turned on that anything slightly incoherent would come up in your mind.

You smile mischievously, in the way only Felix knows, in the way that brings out your deepest, hottest side that he knows as a map by heart. You pull away from him, grab his cell phone out of his pocket suddenly and wiggle it in your hand; your boyfriend looks at you in confusion. Felix knows you so well that, in his voice exquisitely thicker, and excited, than usual, he murmurs a soft,

“What’s on your mind, my pretty baby?”

He watches you from above, gently lowering his head to look at you because of your angle. You find him so fucking attractive, every faction of his face, of his agitated body trying to appear to be at ease, you suddenly needing him so badly that you could suck him off right there, suffice it to just pull down his shorts and underwear. But no, your heat was so intense that, with intense joy, your boyfriend’s new cell phone in hand, your core throbbing and your heart pounding with aggression, you said almost passionately:

“Is the quality that good?” Felix squints his eyes, inviting you to continue, still not fully understanding your idea, but extremely immersed and excited at whatever it is. “Why… don’t you put it to the test one more time…. By recording something so exclusive to you… Something to help you, Lix. Why don’t I give you something for when I’m not there for you? Who’s going to take care of you after all the euphoria you experienced on stage, huh? And you have to go back to your lonely, quiet hotel room...”

“Y/n…” he whispers, confused, breathless, almost in a soft moan, still letting himself be carried away by your words that sweetened and shivered every inch of him.

“Record me, Felix. Do it for the nights when we can’t be together.”

A sextape. The idea warms his virile, weak body wrapped in desire and love for you. Nudes… are a bit of a touchy subject, as you are somewhat paranoid, you live in fear that for some reason they might hack you, and Felix will be severely affected, you don’t even care if your nudes are exposed, it’s him you fear the most. So you’ve spent nights… long and lonely, when you’re away, living on phone sex, stimulating yourself only with his voice, remembering and imagining the feel of him, of the image of his body against yours.

Still, the idea worries Felix, that his reaction seems tender to you, because, despite being extremely horny and accepting at first without reneging, he had to make sure first, reflecting in his handsome face concern.

“A video? Princess, are you sure? Is that what you want?”

He knows how you approach a subject that the two of you have already touched on. But you nod deeply and submissively without taking your eyes off him.

“Just record me…. Lix, you don’t have to be on frame… It’s for when you get lonely and miss me.”

He sighs and seems to be slightly perplexed.

“Come on, Felix. Don’t you want to? Your body tells me otherwise...”

You begin to tease him, stroking his stiff cock over the thin fabric of his shorts. He moans, closes his eyes and nods. He needs you. Now.

“All right, princess. Let’s do this.”

Your face reflects soft victory. You leave his cell phone next to you on the bed and stand up abruptly, reaching into your purse for that little thong that caused this whole effect on both of you. Felix watches you, you are impatient, you act fast, so fast that you start undressing right in front of him. Felix blinks incredulously and in one swift movement, boldly and dirtyly grabs his phone, not wanting to miss a moment of what he is experiencing. His cock throbs hard, thinking in the future how painfully pleasurable it will be to masturbate to an obscene video of you, thinking of the dirty, exquisite fantasy that is this experience. He begins to videotape you, this time without shame, your clothes falling to the floor. Both sexes beg desperately to be touched and the silence of the room is so tense that you feel that your loud heartbeat can be heard, that was the disturbingly exciting thing about the hotel rooms you spend so much time in with Felix, the silence, the distinct sound of your heavy breathing.

Felix licks his lips, losing himself in the image of his phone capturing your body, then watching you. He sighs again, half-heartedly.

“Can I… at least talk?” he says. “If I’m not going to be fully part… if this ever comes out… can I say my voice is AI?”

You giggle. “Of course you can talk… this video is completely just for you.”

You look into the camera and then straight into your boyfriend’s eyes. Felix is disturbingly horny, impatient, but something in his expression expresses that he can resist, that he’s enjoying all of this more than anything.

You take off your blouse, the pants you were a little sick of because you couldn’t wear a skirt or a nice dress, since you were incognito. You stay in your underwear and appreciate the concentrated expression on Felix’s face.

“Baby, you’re beautiful. Let me capture absolutely everything I have to remember while I’m on tour…”

His voice is husky, needy. He directs his phone’s camera first to your face. Capturing every soft angle of your pretty face. You giggle somewhat nervously and shyly… and then, the show finally begins, Felix slowly lowers his cell phone, recording your breasts, your abdomen, your panties. He gasps again, feeling more and more excited and desperate, which as proof is the sensation of his guilty precum staining his underwear. You are everything to him.

He can’t help himself and with his free hand he begins to caress you delicately, to squeeze your waist, to caress your ass, to subtly turn you over to get the perfect shot of how very lovely and round it looks.

“I’m going to wear… the panties you want” you whisper.

Felix stops touching you, and you quickly pull off your panties, making him audibly sigh. Your breasts look better in person than the quality of his cell phone; still, on both sides, he loves them. You pull down your panties carefully, slowly, and seductively, feeling your temperature rise, you are incredibly aroused, and at this point, you regret a little bit to propose between you a game of seduction, patience, and provocation.

Your boyfriend keeps biting his lips hard, feeling the great need to gasp every time you tease him more and more. He shamelessly records your panties going down your legs, of the thin fabric slowly clearing from your vaginal lips and finally, the soft and cute shot of your mons pubis, slowly zooming out to get the great shot of your naked body, for him and him alone.

“Fuck, baby… I don’t know if I can resist anymore. Let’s do a porno at this point” Felix teases, each word lower than the other, clearly altered in desire.

You chuckle. “You’re cute.”

You continue with your thing, with the original plan to tease your boyfriend and drive him to madness, but this is proving extremely difficult for you too; you need him badly too. Still, you slowly put on yourself the tiny little garment that Felix fantasized about from the second he saw it.

He is breathless. You moan softly, the new underwear starts to tease your pussy and cling hotly to your ass. The tiny thong fits you even better than he would have imagined, the sheer fabric barely even covers your pubic area, the triangle figure is so small… it’s such a damn provocative and useless garment.

“You like it?” you question, proudly.

“I love it” he confesses with a piercing gaze into yours. “Now… lie down, darling… show me how wet you are for me. What are you going to do, my naughty little girl?”

You bite your lip. Felix’s gentle dominance drives you uncontrollably crazy. He apparently adapted quickly to the purpose of your idea. You obey him at once, lying your body comfortably on the bed. He follows your movements, crawling onto the bed next to you on his knees.

“I’m… I’m going to touch myself for you.”

You are helplessly aroused, lying back on the bed. You fondle your breasts, flex your knees and finally spread your legs, letting out a soft moan on the spot. Felix records your soft breasts, your hands playing nervously with them and moves down to your juicy lips, your labia glossy, lightly stimulated, your throbbing sex exposed.

“Fuck” Felix grunts, aggressively stroking his cock, adjusting himself a little. “Oh yeah? What do you think about when you touch yourself like that, princess?”

His rough voice turns you on even more, and his lustful gaze almost makes you tremble. Your fingers slowly slide down your skin until they reach your pussy. Felix begins to be possessed by his role: recording every single detail of your dripping pussy, every tremor of your body, he is fascinated.

You play with your clit, your middle finger tracing the thin fabric of your panties, you wiggle your pelvis and moan softly. You’re so horny, so surrendered, you’re completely his.

“Tell me, tell me, how does it feel, oh, look at you, you’re so fucking wet, all that pretty pussy for me... do your fingers feel as good as mine?” Felix continues, his phone capturing every moment of your docile, weak but energetically aroused reclining body.

You begin to tremble with pleasure, with nervousness, and it’s even difficult to speak.

“Mmmm, it feels so good... but not as good as you...” you pant, circling your clit, gently moving your legs.

“Oh yeah? Are you going to miss me, baby? How much, huh? How much are you going to miss me, sweetheart?”

You nod. Your fingers begin to slide down your folds, losing themselves in their warmth and wetness. There is something so obscene about the way your sweet boyfriend mercilessly records you, his impatience and constant licking of his lips, wanting you. His stiff member is slowly bothering him.

“A lot, Felix, a lot... I'm gonna miss you a lot...”

“Is this how you touch yourself when I’m not with you, baby? Show me how you do it, you can’t stop thinking about me?”

You shake your head. You find it funny, the way you suggested the idea, how you started teasing him, but now he’s the one pushing you to the limit. You tease yourself more, touching your weak spots that you know make you tremble, but the sensations are a thousand times better and more intense when your boyfriend does it. You tempt your entrance, arching your pelvis, wanting to insert your fingers inside you. Felix is breathing heavily, and you’re almost certain that his need can be heard even through his cell phone.

Finally, you slip your hand inside the small piece of fabric covering your pussy and while you play with your breasts, your nipples erect from the touch of your other hand, with the other you caress with painful patience the skin of your pubis, your clit, your juicy labia, all of which is killing you.

“Oh, yeah. Just like that, baby. Stick two fingers inside you... touch yourself for me, do it, imagine it’s me filling you up...”

You obey instantly and whimper, letting out a sigh as you feel your fingers slide easily into your entrance. You feel your tightness, the length of your fingers teasing you but not filling you completely the way Felix’s cock does.

You gasp, slowly thrusting to increase your rhythm, moving your hips, desperately caressing your clit with your other hand. Felix notices and speaks again, his voice so dark that he sounds like a damn villain about to destroy you, yet there is a certain playfulness in his tone:

“Look at you acting like this, so desperate, baby... you’re not being gentle with yourself at all. Is this how you want me to fuck you? Do you imagine me fucking you hard?”

Felix refrains from touching you. His hands begin to tremble, he has a voracious hunger for you that he has never felt before, his cock begins to come to life, throbbing to the rhythm of your violent thrusts with your fingers in your stimulated entrance.

“F-Felix...” you whimper, dragging out your words, biting your lip and looking him straight in the eyes the whole time.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, you gasp in desperation and... he seems to be there, sadistically enjoying the show. At this point, Felix himself is surprised at his resistance, at not cumming right there just by looking at you, but one thing is certain, his genitals are so fucking sensitive from not being stimulated at all, and he was going to take that out on you in due course... in the meantime:

“Use your words, baby, tell me anything. Remember that this video is for when I’m alone, missing you.”

“Fuck, Felix. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, please be here with me. Mmm...”

“You’re going to miss my cock, aren’t you, you little cunt? If only you could see yourself now, so needy, making a mess on the fucking hotel bed, you’re a very, very bad girl, princess.”

His accent becomes thicker and more defined, his desperation speaks for itself as he begins to sound aggressive with you, no longer soft, no more purring and sizzling teasing tone. He is being demanding with you now.

You wanted to ask him to touch you. Your fingers are quick, your caresses soft, but nothing like him, you’re so close and yet so far away. You have him there, watching you masturbate, his big bulge throbbing, his pupils dilating with fantasy. You were so needy that you even begged him in a gasp,

“Felix, please, touch me.”

He clicks his tongue, amused to see your body writhing in pleasure. He’s enjoying it to the fullest.

“No, no, no, sweetheart. I can’t be in the shot, don’t you remember? Just touch yourself for me, give your best show for when your boyfriend needs it most. Damn, you have no idea how much you turn me on, I’m going to jerk off so hard to this, baby” he groans.

“Do it, now, touch yourself,” you beg.

He smiles, showing his teeth, “You want to see my cock that badly, don’t you, hunny? You’re just a fucking little slut, you better cum on your fingers or I swear to God I’ll leave you like that. All fucking needy and horny for me. You started it, now you finish it.”

Your vision starts to blur, your pussy starts to sound obscenely wet, you bury your fingers deeper, but it’s not enough, it’s not him. It’s a real torture to have him in front of you and not be able to touch him.

“Then talk to me, talk to me more.”

He laughs. “Ha. I almost forgot how naughty you are, love. Of course, you have a thing for my voice.” He turns his phone away from you and leans dangerously close to your ear, his body hovering over yours, his soft shirt brushing against your bare chest, and whispers, his voice so seductively deep that it makes you tremble, “It turns you on, doesn’t it? Do you think you’ll cum faster if I talk dirty to you?”

You both maintain intense, penetrating eye contact. You’re so close, feeling this needy puts you in a state of mind where you want to surrender, where you want to cum; you wonder if you do... what can Felix give you, does he really plan on keeping his hard erection the whole time?

He pulls away from you.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re close, aren’t you? God, you don’t know how many times I fantasized about you touching yourself all those nights we had phone sex. Are you really this horny and slutty? Every time I tell you all the things I want to do to you... how I want to touch you and make you feel...”

Felix lets out an arrogant chuckle and gently caresses your clit. You react, sighing and tensing your body. You’re so sensitive, as if he’s pressed a button inside you.

“Do you want me to touch you, princess? Tell me what you want...”

You sigh and go back to working on your pussy with soft, delicate, slow movements... suddenly you feel a little embarrassed, being so sensitive to him. You swallow, and your throat is so dry and empty.

“Felix, I need you, please. You can touch me... Did you get a good video, already? Please, come here and make me cum.”

“Do you need me that much? I’m the only one who knows how to take good care of your little pussy. But I told you I’m not going to stop until you come for me,” he orders you harshly.

He raises his eyebrows mischievously, an idea popping into his head. You sigh, resigned to the fact that you’ll have to bring yourself to orgasm on your own, so that maybe he’ll touch you afterwards and take out his burning energy on you. But you watch as Felix leans over the nightstand next to the bed, opens the drawer, and pulls out the new vibrator he bought you, compact and very useful. Felix loves to make things hotter in bed, to have you wear lingerie, to use toys, everything to give you endless, long, intense pleasure.

“You wanna cum faster, baby girl?” he shows you the vibrator. “I bet you use it imagining that it’s me making you feel good when I’m not around.”

You don’t even have time to process it or respond when he turns on the toy and presses it hard against your already stimulated clit, having the obscene take of his hand using the sex toy on your used pussy. You whimper and instinctively close your legs, but he acts quickly, grabbing your knees to prevent you from doing so.

“Ah, ah,” he warns you, “Hold the vibrator and play with your pussy, baby.”

You look him in the eyes. Your makeup is a little smudged, your gaze pleads for mercy, it’s bright, and your eyes look slightly larger. You’re suffering, you’re enjoying it, and Felix is going crazy.

You take the toy and let it vibrate violently against your clit. The vibrations are exquisite, encompassing your entire wet vulva. You moan in pleasure, feeling so close. Felix quickly and tentatively runs two of his fingers over your pussy, dipping his fingers shallowly into your entrance, a reaction that makes you whimper even louder. He is mesmerized, consumed by flames, so damn spellbound by you and his immense need to have you that he attractively brings those two fingers to his mouth, licking them deliciously, tasting you a little. He moans and enjoys it, as if you were something so delicious. That action alone increases your horniness level.

“You always taste so fucking sweet. Just like that, baby, just like that,” he coos, “You’re doing so well, my good girl.”

You’re enjoying it, despite feeling his great absence, you let yourself go, you think you can reach an intense orgasm soon, after pushing yourself to the limit and overstimulating yourself... when suddenly you let out a big sigh as you see your boyfriend pull down his shorts and underwear, Felix’s cock pops out, wriggling, fully erect, so perfectly stimulated that its tip is bright pink. He whimpers and begins to rub his hard shaft. That’s when you prolong your orgasm a little longer, because every part of you needs him.

Your gaze is lost on his cock, on the roughness of his freshly shaved pubic area, small, faintly pigmented freckles visible on his skin that you already know by heart, on the softness of the skin of his cock, that vein that drives you crazy running along its length, his medium-sized hand moving up and down on it, masturbating gently.

“Hey, eyes on me, you little slut,” he orders you, bringing you out of your trance and back to maintaining eye contact with him. “I know you want my cock, angel. Beg for it and you may get it. But now, c’mon, put the vibrator inside you... let me see you scream,” a mischievous and wicked smile appears on his tender and attractive face, which is anything but tender right now, he’s eager.

You bite your lip and obey your boyfriend’s command, almost collapsing from the sensation of the intense vibrations inside you. You want to beg for him. His phone camera zooms in depravedly on your vulnerable area, and Felix closes his eyes as his hand fills him with pleasure.

“Lix, please—”

“Now turn around,” he interrupts you and orders in an eerily harsh voice, “Let me see your pretty ass while your pussy takes the vibrator, my sweet good girl.”

It’s the little phrases and his voice that bring your orgasm forward and make you want to collapse. You obey him again, moving your body completely and lifting your ass gently for the camera and for your boyfriend. Your hand doesn’t stop holding the vibrator, and in a desperate attempt, you start pushing it in and out of your pussy.

Felix pants heavily. He has the perfect view of your round ass and juicy, stimulated pussy. At this point, you were both a mess; the thin fabric of your thong was soaked, your labia majora practically stained with your juices. Felix gives you a gentle spanking that makes you sigh.

“You take the vibrator so fucking well, princess. I want to ruin that fucking useless piece of thong you’re wearing.”

And then, you feel him, his cock teasing you, taking the string of your thong to pull it tight and rub his stimulated cock between your ass cheeks and into your ass. It’s a bit narcissistic, the way he loves how his cock looks on camera, rubbing against your ass and his balls subtly grazing your center.

You can’t resist any longer, you whimper and start begging for him.

“Please, please, Felix, fuck me.”

“I can’t hear you, baby,” he teases, rubbing against you.

But you can’t hold it anymore, you want to beg him harder, but your orgasm is close. You roll your eyes back slightly, Felix can tell you’re close to climaxing, so he pulls his cock out of you skin and lets you pant intensely, screaming his name:

“Fe-fe-felix, Lix, I-”

You collapse breathless and orgasm intensely, tensing every muscle.

He is more than happy, his ego swells, and he quickly takes the vibrator from your now weak grip. Your limbs are fragile, trembling. He turns off the toy and leaves it far from your agitated body, in a state of absolute use, wet. Felix grabs you by the waist with both hands, and you realize that the show is over. He finishes recording and puts his cell phone aside. He turns you back over, laying you down with your legs spread.

“Good girl.”

Felix has an adorable smile on his face, and as soon as you are recovering, speechless and still slightly collapsing from your orgasm, he leans down and begins to eat your pussy, savoring your climax. You moan, impressed that this is his next move. His long hair tickles your thighs. His licks are slow, his tongue thick and hot, flicking his tongue along your labia and entire vulva, he is savoring everything, gently sucking your clit. Building excitement in you quickly.

He starts using his fingers too and works on your pussy, worshiping you. He does this for a few long moments, long enough to have you panting again. He thrusts two fingers inside you and begins to penetrate you with them. You couldn’t believe it.

Felix pulls away from you, just when he feels you are needy enough again, still thrusting his fingers inside you and releasing you arrogantly, his full, shiny lips of you.

“We’re not done yet, beautiful. Not until I fill your pretty pussy with all of me.”

Finally, you watch his fingers move away from your cunt, he takes off his shirt in one swift movement and adjusts his body over you, teasing you with his wet tip between your folds, rubbing his erection over your mons pubis and under the fabric of your panties, so he can pull aside the thin thread that was stimulating your entrance and thrust his cock into you, slowly at first, then quickly and abruptly all the way in with a single thrust. You gasp loudly, clutching the sheets tightly; it was what you had been longing for.

Felix approaches you, making the act intimately dirty, it’s a mess, you’re so wet, and you both need each other so desperately that he starts to whimper as he moves inside you. Your legs seek to wrap around his body, and your hands finally touch your boyfriend. His thrusts are deep, desperate, filling you completely, moving inside you perfectly in a delicious rhythm, fucking you with impatient need. You both sigh, babbling each other’s names into the air.

“You feel so fucking good,” he pants, pounding into you. “I’m going to miss this so much,” he confesses between gasps.

You dig your nails into his back, begin to arch your back, you love this so much. You love being under his body, being nothing and everything at the same time, fading into him. Felix presses his forehead against yours and stares at you for a few seconds before taking your lips, desperately sweet, fierce, passionate, a long-lasting, wet kiss full of secrets that only the two of you know. You separate for lack of air... you are so focused on the sensation of your pussy being attended to, enjoying his body rubbing against your vulva, him filling your insides and the friction of his hard cock sliding inside you, that you are completely surprised when he pulls away a little and takes his penis out of you. The beautiful moment and the magic are over for a second.

“Turn around again, love. I’m going to fuck you hard now.”

He orders and grabs your waist desperately. He turns your body around, grabbing your ass and making you arch your back; you see him pick up his phone again and whisper, “Fuck it.”

Felix places his cell phone horizontally on a pillow, leaning back against the headboard. You notice that he is recording from the frontal camera and your face is completely visible, along with his bare chest, but his face isn’t in the frame. Your heart races. It’s terribly obscene, you love it.

“I want to remember your beautiful face while I fuck you hard.”

Felix sentences and, without further ado, slides his cock into you brutally, making you let out a muffled scream. You feel it deep inside you, throbbing, penetrating you with force. He grabs your waist tightly and starts thrusting into you intensely, sliding his cock into you, piercing and wrecking you completely. The room fills with your moans and his grunts, with both of your skins colliding intensely. You cling to the sheets again, being fucked helplessly. Felix feels you close, as close as he is.

“I want to remember your face when you come for me, please. Smile for the camera, baby.”

You look at your reflection on his cell phone screen. You’re whimpering, slightly disheveled, your makeup smudged, completely cock-drunk. You wonder if you’re disturbing your neighbor’s peace. You’re so close, your eyes almost teary, your walls squeezing Felix’s cock perfectly, enough to make him reach orgasm with intensity, making him scream. You feel his cock tremble inside you and semen fill you completely, your guilty pleasure, you love when Felix creams you. Felix continues with messy thrusts, collapsing on top of you faintly, and that’s when you climax too, your heart beating intensely, your body agitated and trembling.

“I love you, dear,” he confesses, breathless, collapsing beside you.

You look at him with a smile, feeling the absence of his warm cock inside you, but you understand that it must be too sensitive. You look at him with loving eyes, about to answer him, when you hear someone knocking on your door. It’s Seungmin.

“Heeeey, guys. Are you there? Did you fall asleep?”

Felix and you smile at each other in complicity, with heavy breathing.

taglist: @rylea08 @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne  @choso4u

note !! : hey guys, ik i havent been really active, sorry if im tagging u and somethings wrong, so pls let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist by dm or an ask, or update ur user, or if i missed your user, or literally anything plss !!, the link is right up, or again, my messages and inbox are open to anything :) luv ya

[bitters-n-sweets]

i love him — jack abbot x fem!reader inspired by a scene from Jerry Maguire | Jack overhears the reader having a “secret” conversation with her best friend

warnings: unspecified age gap, just some cute fluff, Jack calls reader ‘sweets’, reader and her best friend calls him 'doctor daddy' for obvious reasons, not proofread, self indulgent, mdni masterlist i was writing angst for a few days and now need a breather haha

You and Jack have been dating for a while. About a few months now. You just became an attending at PTMC, and that really what kickstarted your relationship—he’s no longer your boss. The pining, the almosts, the what-ifs—they were there in every lingering glance, every shared laugh in the on-call room, every late-night case that ended with his hand brushing yours just a second too long.

But Jack never let it cross the line. Not while you were under him professionally. He saw what happened with Robby and Collins—how quickly things could spiral, how reputations could fracture. He wasn’t going to let that happen to you. To both of you.

When you finally became an attending at PTMC, it felt like the last piece clicking into place. You waited to open the manila folder—the one with your future inside—until you were at Jack’s place. You wanted him to be the first to know. To be there for the moment. And when you unfolded the letter and saw those words—“We’re pleased to inform you…”—you practically jumped into his arms. Jack held you tight, a proud, steady smile on his face like he’d known it all along.

“I knew you could do it, sweets.”

He’d asked you out not long after that. A quiet breakfast date after your night shift—flowers already waiting on the table, a small wrapped box with a bracelet inside. Something simple. Something thoughtful. Something so very Jack.

Of course, there’ve been arguments. Small things—a forgotten dinner plan, a tense call on a bad day—but nothing that ever felt like it could undo you. Jack doesn’t raise his voice. He listens, then speaks. Calm, grounded, but never cold. He never makes you feel like you’re too much.

But what surprises you most about Jack Abbot isn’t his patience, or his discipline, or even his skill in bed.

It’s how romantic he is.

The kind of man who keeps a sticky note in his wallet with your coffee order. The kind who kisses your hand before work, like an old-school gentleman from a black-and-white movie.

You’ve been covering the day shift for three days straight, and today’s your day off. You’re planning to reset your sleep schedule to prepare for the night shift rotation starting tomorrow. You stayed up all night just so you could sleep together with Jack—but, of course, he texts that he’s going to be a little late. Hazards of being an ER doc.

Then, your phone buzzes. It’s your friend Diana.

Diana: How’s the attending life so far, doc?

Diana’s your best friend. You don’t live close to each other, and don’t text every day, but you have monthly check-ins with each other to catch up on each other’s lives. You smile as you read her text and press the call button.

“Hey!”

“Hey!” She replies with matching energy. “How’s my ER girlie doing?”

“Trying to survive.” You chuckle. “How about you? How’s work for my corporate girlie?”

“Busy as I’ll ever be.” You can practically see her roll her eyes. “But seriously, how’s life? Oh! How is Doctor Daddy doing?”

You glance at the door, you thought you heard a noise.

“Doctor Daddy’s doing fine,” you say, trying not to laugh. “And… yeah. Life’s good. I have no complaints.”

“Ooh you have that voice.”

“What voice?”

“The ‘I’m in love and I don’t know what to do with myself’ voice.”

“I do not!” You gasp, then pause. “Okay, maybe I do.”

“Oh my God.” Diana gasps. “You’re in love with Jack.”

You sigh, a smile etched on your face. “Yeah, I guess I do love him. Ugh, I mean, how can I not? He’s sweet, and good, and—God, Diana, I love him for—for the man he already is, and for the man he wants to be. He makes me feel like I’m home. Even when he’s being annoying, I still want him next to me.”

You laugh softly, running your fingers through your hair. “I’m really in love with him. I guess I’m doomed, huh?”

“Now why would you be doomed, sweets?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, turning around and clutching your phone. Jack’s leaning against the back of the couch, bag dropped by his feet, smirking faintly—curious and amused.

“Diana… I’m… gonna call you back.”

“OMG DID DOCTOR DADDY HEAR YOU—” Click. You hang up, but Jack’s already heard the nickname he apparently has.

You can feel your ears getting hot, and you’ll bet your face is red by now.

“How much did you hear?” you ask, not meeting his eyes.

He shrugs, stepping closer. “Only the important parts. Do you really mean everything you said?”

You freeze, fumbling. “Look, I know it’s early. Maybe too soon. We don’t have to talk about it. We can pretend you didn’t hear—”

“Say it again.” He steps closer.

You glance up. He’s right in front of you now, arms sliding gently around your waist.

Your hands rest on his chest, grounding yourself. “I—I love you.”

And then Jack pulls you in, a smile now on his face. “I love you, too.”

Then he kisses you like he’s never done before. Passionate yet slow, he’s taking his time to taste you, devour you, claim you as his. Because there’s no way he’s letting you go. Ever.

You pull away shortly after, breathless.

The smirk comes back to his lips and he teases you, “Doctor Daddy, huh?”

“Oh my God.” You groan, pressing your face into his chest. “Never speak of it again.”

“Call me that when we’re having sex and see what happens.” He whispers, voice low near your ear, sending you shivers.

“Jack!”

[solrburst]

shut me up — joel miller x reader

summary: When Joel keeps insisting you should be with someone your age, you decide to teach him a lesson.

warnings: smut (+18), jealous!jackson!joel, but reader knows how to handle him, lots of dirty talk, age gap, a little bratty behavior, soft aftercare, wall sex, orgasm denial/overstimulation, crying (from pleasure), handjob, light degradation (?), making love but it’s filthy

author’s note: i saw this post and i had to do something so tysm @eightestmonth

word count: 3,3k

You weren’t trying to start a fire. Not exactly.

But Joel had been fanning the damn flames for weeks — every time he pulled away after a kiss that went too deep, every time he muttered “you should be with someone your age” like it was a prayer he hoped you’d believe.

You were tired of it. Tired of the way he touched you like you were breakable. Like he was temporary.

So when the community center filled up with music and laughter, when Jackson’s monthly party kicked off and the moon rose high and easy in the sky — you decided to let loose. Just a little.

You wore something nice. Not revealing, not scandalous. But enough to make Joel’s eyes linger when you walked into the room. Enough to make him tense when you drifted toward the small crowd of guys your age huddled by the drinks table, half-laughing, half-staring.

You weren’t doing anything wrong. Just talking. Smiling. Maybe laughing a little too sweetly when one of them said something stupid.

Joel was across the room, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest. Watching.

You didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what was going through his head. You saw it in the tight clench of his jaw. The flicker in his eyes. The way his beer stayed untouched in his hand.

He’d said it again just last night — that you deserved “something simple.” Something easy. A boy who hadn’t buried his hands in blood. Someone who didn’t wake up gasping.

Well.

If he wanted to push you away so badly, maybe he needed a reminder of just how badly he wanted to keep you.

You threw a glance over your shoulder. Met his gaze. Held it.

Then you smiled — slow, deliberate — and turned back to the boy in front of you just as your fingers brushed his arm in passing.

And Joel moved.

You didn’t see him cross the room.

One second you were mid-laugh, fingertips still lingering on someone else’s arm — and the next, a familiar hand curled gently but firmly around your waist.

“Evenin’,” Joel said, voice low, steady, and cool as winter steel. He nodded to the group around you, though his eyes never left yours. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The guys murmured some awkward greetings, backing off like dogs that smelled a bigger wolf. One by one they drifted away, leaving just you and Joel in the warm glow of the lanterns strung across the community hall.

He didn’t say a word at first.

Just took you directly to his place. Of course, you didn’t say anything too. Let him have his moment, right?

But when Joel stops, looking at you like he’s waiting for an apologize or something like that, you smile.

You turned to him slowly, arms crossed. “Something you need, Miller?”

He raised a brow. His hand still rested at your lower back. “Just wonderin’ if you were enjoyin’ yourself.”

You cocked your head, sweet and innocent. “I was. Really nice guys, actually. Young. Smiled a lot.”

His jaw ticked. Just once. “That right?”

“Mmhmm.” You leaned in, eyes locked on his. “No one telling me I should be with someone else.”

Joel’s hand dropped. He took a step back. “I ain’t tellin’ you that ‘cause I don’t want you, baby.”

Baby. You love when he calls you that.

You took a step toward him.

“And yet you keep acting like you don’t,” you whispered.

Joel’s jaw worked, hands flexing at his sides like he was fighting every instinct that told him to grab you and take.

Joel didn’t say a word. Just stared at you — eyes full of heat, of guilt, of longing. His silence said more than any protest ever could.

And you smiled. Slow. Wicked.

You stepped into his space, your chest nearly brushing his. “Tell me to walk away. Right now.”

Instead of that, he moved.

Joel surged forward and kissed you like it was the only way he could stay standing — like your mouth was the answer to every question he'd tried to ignore. His hands gripped your hips tight, pulling you into him, and you could feel the tension in his body — all that self-control finally snapping.

He growled low into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips. “You don’t listen worth a damn, do you?”

You smiled, breathless. “Not when you say things you don’t mean.”

His mouth crashed into yours again — harder, rougher this time. Teeth. Tongue. His hands moved lower, grabbing your ass with both palms and grinding your hips against the thick, undeniable press of his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathed, dragging his lips down your throat. “You wear that little dress, flirt with boys who couldn’t make you come if their fuckin’ lives depended on it…”

You let out a breathless laugh — low and dangerous — as your fingers threaded into his hair and tugged.

“Someone sounds jealous,” you murmured, tilting your head back as he bit down just above your collarbone. “Don’t worry, Joel. None of them were offering anything you haven’t been too chicken-shit to give me.”

That made him freeze for half a second — just long enough for you to smile, all teeth and taunt.

And then he snapped.

His grip on your ass tightened, lifting you suddenly. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct as he slammed you back against the nearest wall, knocking the breath out of you.

“Oh, baby,” he growled, voice pure grit, “you just made the biggest fuckin’ mistake of your life.”

“Why?” you gasped, grinning even as your thighs trembled around his hips. “You gonna finally do something about it?”

Joel kissed you again — if you could even call it that. It was filthy, open-mouthed and brutal, his tongue claiming your mouth like he wanted to brand it. One hand shoved up your dress, pushing the fabric to your waist. The other yanked your panties to the side with a strength that made you gasp.

“You wanted me jealous?” he snarled against your lips, cock grinding into your soaked slit. “You wanted to rile me up like this?”

“You’re the one who keeps acting like I’m too young to take it,” you shot back, breath hitching as the head of his cock slipped just barely inside.

He stilled. His voice dropped to a threat.

“You don’t get to tease me and act like you know what the fuck you’re in for.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his. “Try me.”

And then he slammed into you.

You choked on a moan, nails digging into his shoulders as he buried himself to the hilt in one deep, brutal stroke.

“Oh my God—”

“That’s right,” he hissed, hips snapping into you again, relentless. “Say my fuckin’ name.”

“Joel,” you moaned, voice shaking as your back slammed into the wall with every thrust. “Fuck—Joel. You feel so fucking good—so deep—I can feel you in my stomach.”

He growled, head dipping to bite at your neck, sucking hard enough to leave proof.

And you loved it.

You wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, lips brushing his ear, voice a throaty purr.

“You like it when I squeeze you like that?” you gasped. “You feel how my pussy’s choking your cock? Like it knowsyou’re mine?”

Joel let out a guttural sound — almost a warning — and slammed into you harder.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “That mouth’s gonna be the end of me.”

“Mmm,” you smirked, kissing along his jaw, still panting. “You think I flirted with them for fun? No, baby. I was thinking about how I’d come home and let you fuck me so hard I forget every single one of their names.”

His pace stuttered for just a second.

“You gonna let me?” you whispered, licking the shell of his ear. “Let me crawl into bed after this with your cum leaking down my thighs, still aching for another round?”

Joel growled again — feral, desperate — and shifted his hold, pulling you away from the wall without slipping out. He carried you toward the bed, cock still buried in your slick heat.

“You keep talkin’ like that,” he panted, “and I’m not stoppin’ ‘til you can’t fuckin’ walk.”

You grinned, eyes wild, lips kiss-bruised.

Joel dropped you on the bed like he owned it — like he owned you — and didn’t hesitate. He hooked one strong arm under your knee, shoved your leg up over his shoulder, and slammed back inside you with a force that made the bedframe rattle.

“Fuck!” you cried, arching off the mattress.

“No more talkin’,” he growled, pinning your hips down with his free hand. “You had your fun runnin’ that mouth. Now you’re gonna listen.”

He fucked you hard, unrelenting, the angle so deep you could feel every ridge, every vein, dragging inside you with devastating precision. Your moans turned high and frantic, but Joel didn’t slow down.

“You think this pussy belongs to you?” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Nah, baby. This pussy’s mine.”

He thrust harder, making the headboard slam against the wall with every snap of his hips.

“You wanna tease me?” Another brutal thrust. “Flirt with boys who couldn’t handle you?” He leaned in, face inches from yours, sweat dripping onto your skin. “Now you’re gonna learn.”

You were gasping, barely coherent now, and he loved it — loved seeing you unravel under him, helpless under the weight of his body and the force of his cock slamming into your soaked heat.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, leaning in so close his chest pressed into yours.

“You’re gonna come when I say,” he growled. “Not before. You hear me?”

You nodded frantically, moaning, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Say it,” he barked.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you gasped. “I’ll wait — I’ll do whatever you say, just—fuck, please.”

His grin was all teeth, all wolf.

“That’s more like it.”

He pounded into you relentlessly, dragging you right to the edge over and over again. Every time your moans pitched higher, every time your thighs trembled, he’d pull back, keep you dangling — until your whole body was shaking.

“Beg,” he said.

“Joel—please, let me come, I need it—I need you, fuck—”

He leaned in, kissed you hard, then finally gave you what you were begging for — his thrusts brutal, perfect, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, fast circles until your back arched off the bed with a scream.

You shattered under him, legs trembling, nails clawing at the sheets. Your pussy clenched around him so tight it made him curse against your mouth.

But Joel didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

“Uh-uh,” he growled, still grinding into you, his fingers never leaving your clit. “Thought you were gonna forget their names, baby. That was just round one.”

“Joel—” you gasped, squirming beneath him, your voice breaking on a moan. “Too much—fuck—it’s too—”

He grabbed your jaw, made you look at him.

“No it ain’t,” he rasped. “This body’s mine. I’ll fuck you through every scream.”

You tried to turn your head, overwhelmed, overstimulated — but he wouldn’t let you. His hips kept driving into you, deep and fast, and his thumb circled your clit with just enough pressure to make your thighs quake.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “Takin’ it so good. So fuckin’ perfect wrapped around me.”

Tears welled in your eyes — not from pain, not even from control. Just from the sheer intensity of it. From how much you wanted this, how much you needed to be ruined by him, for him.

And he saw it.

Saw your lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed, lips parted in wrecked moans as the first tear slipped down your cheek.

“Yeah,” he whispered, slowing just a little — but not pulling out. “That’s what I wanted. Cry for me, baby.”

You whimpered, tears spilling freely now as your second orgasm crashed into you like a wave, harder than the first, stealing the air from your lungs.

“Fuck—Joel—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he snapped, burying himself to the hilt and holding there, cock twitching inside your tight, spasming cunt. “You’re cryin’ so pretty, baby. And I ain’t done.”

His hand stroked your hair now — gentler, grounding — but his hips were still rolling slow and deep, dragging every last ripple of your orgasm out of you until your whole body trembled.

Your voice was wrecked, raw. “I want—fuck—want more…”

Joel’s eyes were wild, locked on yours, a mix of pride and possession and dark hunger.

“Yeah?” he rasped. “Then give me one more. Let me watch those eyes flood while you come all over my cock again.”

You barely had time to catch your breath. Your thighs were still trembling, slick and soaked, tears shining in your lashes. And Joel looked down at you like he was starving.

He slipped out of you with a groan, your pussy fluttering around nothing, leaking and pulsing and needing. You whined — high, weak — but he was already dragging you down the bed by your hips, spreading your legs wide, his hands rough and sure.

“Shh,” he said, his voice low, dark, too calm. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You blinked at him, dazed, completely pliant. “Joel, I— I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured, dipping between your legs. “Gonna make you come on my tongue this time. You got one more in you, baby. I know you do.”

You gasped as his mouth found you — hot, wet, unrelenting. He licked into you like he owned every part of you, groaning as he tasted the mess he'd made, as if he needed to have it on his tongue, in his throat, claiming you from the inside out.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, hips twitching. “Joel—oh fuck—”

He moaned into your cunt, the sound deep and filthy, like your taste was the only thing keeping him alive. His arms wrapped under your thighs, keeping you wide open, locked in place. And when his tongue flattened over your clit, slow at first, then fast — perfect — your back arched, a sob ripping from your throat.

“You’re already close,” he growled between strokes, voice muffled against your slick. “That little pussy’s fuckin’ beggin’to come for me.”

You nodded wildly, hands in his hair now, tugging, anchoring yourself to anything solid as your body bucked beneath him.

“Say it,” he growled. “Tell me this mouth’s better than any of those boys could ever fuckin’ dream of.”

“Yours,” you cried. “Only you—Joel, I swear—no one’s ever—fuck, please let me come—”

He sucked your clit hard, tongue flicking with purpose, and that was it.

You shattered.

Your whole body tensed, then shook — thighs clamping around his head as you came with a scream, tears slipping free from the sheer force of it. Your hands flew to your face, overwhelmed, sobbing his name like a prayer.

Joel groaned into you, didn’t stop licking, didn’t stop drinking you in until you were shaking, twitching, too sensitive to take another second.

He finally pulled back, jaw slick, eyes wild. He kissed the inside of your thigh, then your hip, then your stomach as he crawled back up your body, covering you with his weight.

You were breathless, wrecked, glowing.

He hovered above you, still hard, cock slick with your arousal and need. His breath was ragged, brow furrowed like he was barely holding on.

“You want more?” he whispered, dragging the tip of his cock along your overstimulated folds, just to watch you twitch. “Want me to fill you up again?”

You shook your head, breathless, your voice just a whisper. “No. Wanna see you. Want you to come for me now.”

Joel’s eyes darkened at that — heat flaring low in his gut.

“Yeah?” he rasped.

You nodded, slipping your hand between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his thick length. He let out a broken groan, hips bucking into your palm.

“Lie back,” you murmured. “Let me watch you fall apart.”

And he did.

Joel leaned back onto his elbows, then let himself fall to the mattress, legs spread, chest heaving, cock flushed and heavy in your hand.

You straddled his thighs, bent over him, and stroked him slow — tight, slick, steady — while your mouth dropped hot, open kisses along his chest, his stomach, right down to the trail of hair that led to where he pulsed in your grip.

“Look at you,” you whispered. “So fucking pretty like this.”

Joel growled — low and wrecked — one hand fisting in the sheets as you pumped him harder, your lips brushing the base of his cock, tongue teasing just enough to make his thighs tense.

“Fuck—baby—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” you breathed, dragging your tongue up the length of him. “Then come for me, Joel. Want you to make a fuckin’ mess.”

He let out a broken cry, hips jerking, and then he came — hard — thick ropes of release striping his stomach, chest, your knuckles. You didn’t stop until he was twitching, groaning, his body slack and spent beneath you.

You kissed your way up his chest, licking a drop from his collarbone, and smiled down at him.

“Messy enough for you?” you teased.

Joel caught your face in his hand and kissed you deep — slow this time. Heavy with want, with gratitude, with everything he’d been too scared to give before tonight.

“More than enough,” he rasped. “But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Joel was still catching his breath when your head dropped against his chest, your lips brushing the sheen of sweat that clung to his skin. His arm came around you instinctively, pulling you into his side, holding you like something precious — like something he’d almost lost.

You felt his hand slide into your hair, gentle now, stroking slowly as your breathing evened out.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The only sounds were your hearts slowing down, the faint creak of the bed under your tangled limbs, and the rustle of the sheets as Joel shifted to kiss your forehead.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice hoarse and quiet.

You nodded, lips curving into a lazy, blissed-out smile. “More than okay.”

He chuckled under his breath, the sound warm, vibrating through his chest. “Didn’t mean to go that hard,” he murmured, brushing his fingers down your back. “You just— Christ, you get me so worked up.”

You tilted your head, looked up at him through tired eyes. “I like when you go a little feral.”

He gave you a look — fond, amused, still a little dazed — and leaned in to kiss you. This time it was soft, lips barely brushing yours, just enough to say I’m here, I’ve got you, I’m not letting go.

“Still think I should be with someone my age?” you whispered, teasing, your voice soft against his mouth.

Joel sighed, hand sliding down to cradle your thigh as he tucked it over his own. “You shut me up pretty damn good, baby.”

You giggled, nestling closer, and he tucked your head under his chin. His other hand found yours between your bodies, fingers lacing together like they’d done it a thousand times before.

“I’m sorry,” he added, quieter now. “For pushin’ you away. For sayin’ that shit. Truth is—I’m scared. You’re… you’re everything. And I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

Your chest ached — not from the sex, but from the way he meant every word.

“You’re not fucking anything up,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “You’re it for me, Joel. Every version of you.”

He squeezed your hand, kissed the top of your head again, and exhaled like a man finally letting himself breathe.

“Then let me take care of you,” he murmured. “In every way.”

And he did.

He cleaned you up carefully, murmuring sweet, sleepy things as he wiped between your thighs, kissing your knees and cheeks and hands. He pulled you under the blankets, wrapped around you like a second skin, and didn’t let go even when sleep pulled you both under.

The boys at the party? Forgotten.

The insecurity? Fading.

What stayed was Joel’s arm around your waist, his breath in your hair, and the quiet, steady promise of this is real. This is yours.

[kxsagi]

hi babes! i just want to start by saying i absolutely love your writing and i have been left speechless by it and how GOOD IT IS!!! could i request a blue lock nagi x reader (headcanons or one shot whatever you see fit) of nagi dating someone who is very touchy, handsy and their love language is physical touch? like she is happy just touching him jumping on him etc. thank you!!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

“𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐞”

a/n: two nagi oneshots in a row let’s gooo

also thank you so much, you are so sweet, please take this oneshot as my appreciation 🌸💕

nagi seishiro is a simple man. he likes sleep, games, and snacks. 

and now, he likes you. 

correction: he adores you. 

especially when you're practically hanging off him like a koala twenty-four-seven. 

you’re the kind of girlfriend who doesn’t knock, just walks right in, throws your bag on the floor like it personally offended you, and immediately climbs onto his back like it’s your birthright. and nagi? doesn’t even flinch. he just adjusts his posture so you don’t fall off and keeps playing his game, one arm curled under your legs to hold you in place. 

“you didn’t even say hi,” he mumbles, but you can feel the smile in his voice. 

you squish your cheek into his shoulder blade. “your skin said hi. that counts.” 

he sighs. “lazy.” 

“look who’s talking.” 

but gosh, he loves it. he doesn’t say it often, but he’s a complete sucker for your touchy behavior. it makes him feel wanted, needed, even if you're just poking his face while he’s trying to nap or tangling your legs with his under the kotatsu. 

when you’re walking beside him, your arm always loops through his like you’ll die without contact. sometimes you even swing them dramatically like you're on some sort of romantic anime opening. nagi doesn’t stop you. he just blinks down at your hands, mumbles “mm” like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and lets you drag him around like a big sleepy husband. 

and when you’re on the couch together? you don’t sit on the couch, you melt onto him. across his lap. in his hoodie. on his chest. under his blanket. even if it’s a hundred degrees out, you’ll still find a way to burrow into his arms like a human furnace. 

“aren’t you hot?” he’ll ask. 

“yeah, but your arms are my air conditioning.” 

“… that doesn’t make sense.” 

“neither does my love for you.” 

nagi blinks slowly at the screen, dies in-game, and then kisses the top of your head like he’s been doing it forever. 

also, he never used to hold hands much, but now you’ve trained him like a pro. you’ll sneak your hand into his at random – while grocery shopping, on walks, or while waiting in line – and now he does it without thinking. even once reached for your hand in his sleep, like his body just knew you were too far. 

sometimes you jump on his back and demand he piggybacks you around the house like it’s normal. 

“you’ve got legs,” he mutters as he stands up with you clinging to him like a sleepy monkey. 

“they’re just for aesthetics,” you yawn. 

“cheater,” he says, but again, he doesn’t complain. if anything, he takes the long way to the kitchen. 

and every time you nuzzle into his chest when you’re tired, or tuck your hands into his hoodie sleeves, or wrap your arms around his neck out of nowhere with a sleepy “love you, sei,” he just hugs you tighter. 

because for someone who used to hate effort… loving you feels effortless. 

and having you glued to him like velcro? 

he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[asiatic-apple]

Fluff prompt # 6 with Sylus and female reader

Of course, my lovelies; thanks for the requests! Hope you both enjoy this cute moment between them 😌

Requests are open for my follower celebration

Sharing warmth

Sylus x female reader

Prompt: it’s freezing cold and they can’t figure out how to turn on the heat; they’ll just have to share the bed to stay warm then

Content: fluff, cuddling in a hotel bed, use of the pet names “sweetie” and “kitten”

For a hotel so fancy, you’re surprised the two of you are being bested by the room’s small A/C unit.

It’s freezing cold—not the nice kind of chill where you sip cocoa and admire the snow in winter. No, this is bone-deep. The kind of cold that makes you consider layering every item of clothing that’s packed away in your suitcase.

“Are we sure this thing’s even working?” you grumble, glaring at the thermostat like it personally wronged you.

Sylus crouches beside the wall unit, tapping buttons with mild irritation. “I’ve pressed every combination of buttons. Any more and I’ll accidentally set it to self-destruct.”

You groan and dive back under the heavy hotel comforter. You cocoon yourself in the duvet and watch Sylus’s broad back as he continues fiddling with the unit. You’ve already figured out a simple solution to this dilemma, but he needs a hint or two. So you resort to dramatics to get his attention.

With a loud sigh, you say, “So this is how I die, huh? Like a popsicle.”

You peek out from the covers, glancing in his direction to see if he reacts. Nothing yet.

Another exasperated groan catches in your throat. “I’ve fought so many Wanderers and won so many battles. But this is my downfall?”

Sylus chuckles and finally steps away from the heater. “I’ll go down to the front desk,” he offers, always a gentleman no matter how frigid he might feel. “They can send someone up to fix it. Or we can get a different room.”

He makes it just one step before you shoot up from the bed and stumble forward to grab his wrist. “Nope. You can keep me warm instead.”

You tug him toward the bed—a surprisingly easy feat even though he’s much bigger and stronger than you. He raises a brow but doesn’t protest. It’s like he’s your big ragdoll with how easily he lets you maneuver him under the thick duvet.

“So I’m a portable heater now?” he teases.

“Yes. My personal furnace.”

As soon as he’s comfortably tucked in, you latch onto him without shame. Your arms wind around his torso, one leg hitches over his thigh, and your freezing toes press firmly against his calf.

He flinches. “Sweetie, your feet are glacial.”

“Too bad,” you mumble, sighing contentedly. “You’re stuck here now.”

Sylus doesn’t seem to mind this new predicament. He shifts so you’re properly tucked into him, his strong arms pulling the blanket higher around both of you.

Warmth spreads through you like magic. Every inch of him radiates heat—his chest under your cheek, his arms around your waist, even the long leg tangled between yours. Within minutes, your fingers and toes start to tingle from the thaw. Your muscles relax, and your eyes get heavy.

“You’re getting sleepy,” Sylus murmurs, fingers stroking slow circles along your back.

“Mm-hm. You’re too comfortable.” There’s a slight shift when he chuckles, and it makes you panic for a second. “If you leave this bed, I swear–”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, kitten.” His voice is quiet, a bit more sincere than usual. “You’re warm, too.”

You nuzzle into his soft shirt, unable to wipe the smile from your face. These moments with him are so tender, so perfect. You never want it to end.

“So you don’t mind being used like a warm, weighted blanket?” you ask, eyes still closed as you squeeze him tighter.

“I could get used to it,” he replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “But I might have to start calling you a koala rather than a kitten.”

Your laughter rings through the peaceful quiet of the room. The sound of it only makes Sylus’s smile grow wider. You can’t see it, but you can feel the brief hitch of his chest beneath your head.

For a few relaxing minutes, the room hums in gentle silence, broken only by the rustle of sheets and your quiet breaths syncing. His hand smooths over your spine, soothing and slow. You’re so comfortable that even the lingering cold in the room feels distant.

And then, with a soft mechanical click, the heating unit finally turns on.

Warm air spills out with a low buzz. You both pause.

You lift your head, blinking sleepily. “Did it just...work?”

Sylus grins, amused. “Looks like it.”

You shift slightly, wondering if you should put distance between you two since the room is heating up rather quickly. But his arm tightens around you.

“Don’t even think about it,” he murmurs.

You blink. “But won’t you get too hot like this?”

He tilts his head, lips brushing your temple. “Nope.” He mimics the same way you had popped the ‘p’ earlier when you dragged him to bed. “You’re staying right here. And if you feel too hot, I really will find the self-destruct button on that thing.”

You laugh—warm and giddy and muffled against his chest. “You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but you do as he says and stay in his arms.

The only response you get is a gentle kiss to your forehead. As the heater hums in the background, you both drift into sleep, tangled together in your own little nest of warmth.

💕 tag list: @heartyluv @doeeyes515 @lethalasylum @starryeyed-apple @starlitfics @craeatio @rafayelslittlestar @ruralamours @alyssac9 @blushofeve

🐉 tag list: @voidsylus

Want to be added to my tag list?

dividers by @/sister-lucifer

[chrissssssmut]

Hi hello sir, I kindly ask a story with popular girls Asa and Ahyeon asking shy+nerdy mreader for help studying. No smut obviously and no need for yandere. Just fluffy stuff

Perks Of Being The Nerd

Asa & Ahyeon x Nerdy Male Reader

You didn’t expect much out of sophomore year.

Not fame. Not a girlfriend. Definitely not two.

Your goal was simple: survive AP Chem and keep your manga collection hidden from the occasional hallway tormentor. You were painfully good at blending in—until they happened.

Asa and Ahyeon.

The reigning queens of the junior class. Known for their looks, wit, and tendency to dominate literally every school event. Asa was sharp-eyed, tomboyish, and had a habit of chewing gum like it owed her money. Ahyeon was sweeter, mischievous, and occasionally so charming it felt like she was glitching the simulation.

And somehow, through some cosmic joke, they were now sitting at your kitchen table, flipping through your perfectly highlighted notes like they belonged there.

“Okay, so explain covalent bonds again,” Asa said, squinting at the textbook like it had personally wronged her.

“They’re the ones where atoms share electrons,” you muttered, pushing your glasses up and refusing to make eye contact. You could feel both of them looking at you.

“That’s so cute,” Ahyeon said suddenly.

You blinked. “...Covalent bonds?”

“No,” she giggled, “you. When you explain things like you’re afraid we’ll break.”

“I—I'm not afraid,” you said, then immediately regretted it. “I mean, not of you. Just, like. Talking. In general.”

Asa smirked and leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “You talk more when you’re passionate. Like, just now. You went full anime professor mode.”

Your heart skipped.

You were going to die. Right here. In your kitchen. Surrounded by girls way out of your league and a stack of flashcards.

It all started three days ago when Ms. Kim paired you up for peer tutoring. Apparently, Asa and Ahyeon were “slipping” in chemistry. You’d expected them to blow you off immediately.

But instead—

“Hey, you’re that smart kid, right? The one with the cute notes?” Asa had said, cornering you after class.

“You have the best handwriting I’ve ever seen,” Ahyeon added, eyes twinkling. “Can we study at your place?”

You said yes before your brain could stop you.

Which brings us back to the present.

“You make this stuff sound easy,” Asa said, tossing a pencil up and catching it. “I swear, if teachers explained things like you do, I wouldn’t be failing.”

“I-it’s not really hard,” you mumbled. “Just patterns and logic, mostly. Like code.”

Ahyeon tilted her head. “You code too?”

You nodded. “A bit. Mostly games. Visual novels, sometimes.”

“You’re like, the most interesting guy here and no one knows,” Asa said, stealing one of your erasers.

“Maybe because he’s hiding behind his bangs and hoodies,” Ahyeon teased, leaning toward you slightly. “We’re gonna fix that.”

“Fix what?”

“You,” they said in unison.

Somehow, “study sessions” became a regular thing.

They always brought snacks. Ahyeon liked lying on the floor with her feet up on your bed, whining about reaction rates. Asa always claimed the desk chair and spun in it until she got dizzy.

You tried to stay professional.

Tried.

But sometimes, Asa would lean over your shoulder and ask about a formula, her breath warm against your ear. Sometimes Ahyeon would rest her head on your arm while you explained things, and it was impossible to focus when your heart was beating like a drumline.

“You’re blushing again,” Asa said one afternoon, grinning like a shark.

You immediately buried your face in your hoodie.

“No fair,” you mumbled. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“But it’s cute,” Ahyeon chimed in. “And you never tell us what you think.”

“I—I do!”

“Okay,” Asa leaned in, eyebrow raised. “What do you think of us?”

You froze.

“I—I think you’re both…” You swallowed. “Very…good at learning?”

They stared at you.

“Wow,” Asa said, snorting. “That’s the nerdiest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“I love it,” Ahyeon said.

You peeked up at them.

And found two girls smiling at you like you’d just given them the moon.

“Hey,” Asa said quietly, after a silence. “You ever think about, like…dating?”

You choked on your juice box. “W-what?!”

“Not like that!” she added, laughing. “Okay, maybe like that. It’s just—we were talking, and you’re…kind of great?”

You blinked.

“You help us study, you’re smart, you make the best snacks, and your dog loves us.”

“And,” Ahyeon added, sliding closer to you on the couch, “you make me feel calm. Which almost never happens.”

Your face felt like it was on fire.

“Are you saying… you like me?”

“We like you,” they said in unison again.

“I—I don’t know how to—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Ahyeon whispered. “Just let us hang out with you more. Maybe hold your hand sometimes. That okay?”

Your voice came out small. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

So that’s how it happened.

One minute you were the quiet nerd with an anime wallpaper and a carefully curated pen case, and the next you were dating the two most popular girls in school.

Well. “Dating” might be a strong word. It started with long tutoring sessions that turned into movie nights. Hand-holding during breaks. A cheek kiss here, a forehead bump there. Soft “good luck” messages before tests and chaotic selfies from their classrooms.

Sometimes you caught people whispering when you walked down the hall with them on either side.

But then Asa would glance at you, bump your shoulder, and smirk.

Ahyeon would flash you a grin like you hung the stars.

And suddenly, you didn’t care what anyone thought.

Because somehow, impossibly—you were their favorite nerd.

End.

(But they definitely make you teach them anime intros next week.)

[heartyluv]

Note: I had received two asks that were pretty similar, so I figured merging them together was the best way to go! Also, I just wanted to say how much I really dislike the misconception that losing your virginity is something that is supposed to hurt. It’s absolutely not true…Is it a possibility? Sure. But with the right preparation, care, and patience from the one who is going to be penetrating you (if that is the route of intercourse you choose to take), depending on the person, the most you may feel is slight discomfort from experiencing something you never have before. We have to stop making pain an expectation for individuals with vaginas irl and in the things we consume!!! Anyways, I hope you luvlys enjoy! 😚

Click to read ➜ Ask #1 • Ask #2

Warning: Smut, you and Zayne lose your virginity to each other, kinda slow (Zayne is undoubtedly a man who takes his time, so I hope it taking a little bit to get down to the do is okay), mentions of you having a brother with a heart condition

Rating: Explicit - !!MDNI!!

Word Count: 3.6K (literally didn’t expect this at all)

Summary: You invited your boyfriend over for dinner and as the night progresses, a simple date turns into you two learning and exploring one another in ways you never have before.

Virgin!Zayne/Virgin!Reader

You were trying to keep yourself calm as you began to baste the nearly ready ribeye steak after reading Zayne’s text message.

I’ll be there in five minutes.

You were incredibly nervous, wanting to make sure that you prepared the best meal possible for the man you intended to show your gratitude to. When you met Zayne, it was almost two years ago. He was the saving grace you’d been hoping for, becoming the doctor taking care of your little brother Andrew who has been suffering from a heart condition. It was only getting worse as other treatments and surgeries offered no positive results, so putting all your faith in Zayne required you to surrender your last bit of hope.

You fell in love with Dr. Li the moment your eyes landed on him and even more so when you saw the way he treated your brother. He was so gentle and attentive with him in ways you’ve never seen offered by any of the other medical professionals your family tried to turn to for help.

He had specifically made sure to make time for your family when he had gotten ahold of the paperwork because Zayne has always had a soft spot for helping children in need. It was with zero hesitation on his part that he contacted your parents directly and had them bring in the ten year old little boy who wouldn’t let his condition break him no matter how hard it’s tried.

You knew Zayne was a stupendous doctor, but the rate in which your brother began to improve always brought you to tears no matter how many times you thought about it. Everything he did and continues to do is the reason why you could actually stop worrying as much as you have been and why your family could finally take a breather for the first time since Andrew was born.

Your daily visits to the hospital and conversations led to you and Zayne becoming friends—very much to his surprise—and while you may have been the one to fall first, Zayne fell infinitely harder over time at a pace that was foreign for a man like him. The day he asked you out for what he called a “friendly lunch”, quickly turned into a month and a half of dating before he asked you to be his girlfriend. Obviously you were bouncing off the walls with joy when you told him yes over and over again until your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

And now, even if you’ve only been official for a short amount of time, you wanted to cater to the man you’ve fallen hopelessly in love with as a way of saying thank you despite having had said it so many times already.

At the same time that you cut the stove off, three soft knocks rapt against the front door of your apartment. You quickly washed and dried your hands, running barefoot to answer it, but not before you got a quick glimpse of yourself in the mirror beside the entrance. You’re proud of yourself for not getting your cherry red dress dirty, smoothing it out with a small huff.

No matter how long you’ve known Zayne, seeing him always feels like the first time with the way your insides flutter with rampant emotions.

Finally pulling the door open, you smile at your boyfriend who has a bouquet of red peonies in his hand. His eyes soften when they land on you and you’ve always found it so cute when he uses his knuckle to push his glasses up like he does now.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly. You silently fawn over his simple attire of a black dress shirt and slacks that he makes look sexier than what it should be.

Before you speak, you wrap your arms around his neck for a tight hug, to which he gladly reciprocates by encircling one of his own around your waist. You pulled back to press a quick kiss to his slender nose.

“Thank you, babe...These for me?” Your eyebrow raises playfully as he steps inside.

“Of course.” He faces you once you’ve locked the door to look you over again. “What kind of guest would I be to come empty handed?”

“You’re more than just a guest, Zayne.”

“It still applies, nonetheless. Two things can be true.”

You take the bouquet, making a note in your mind to have him trim the stems with you tonight before putting them in one of the vases he’s bought before. He watches with adoration at how you inhale their sweet scent, humming at the calming aroma.

“They’re perfect,” you exclaim, letting your fingers trace the soft petals before putting your attention back on him. “Ready to eat?”

“I am. I must say that whatever you’ve prepared smells quite good. As I assume the taste to be just as impressive, I’ll have a lot more eating to get around to, won’t I?”

You grin as you take his hand, guiding him to your small dining table. “Let’s find out.”

Not only was dinner a success, but the entirety of the night so far has had you on cloud nine. You and Zayne talked about any and everything as he praised you and your cooking. This was the first time you’ve ever prepared a meal for him and with the way he devoured it, you knew it wouldn’t be the last. You’ve never been a woman to seek validation but when it came to him, every opinion he had was important because of how much you valued and respected him.

To see how much he enjoyed the steak, crispy potatoes, and broccolini, made you feel a sense of pride because this beautiful man was yours to feed forever—if you were granted such a gift.

He and you slow danced to a classical song you showed him since you knew music like that always calmed him during times where work got a little stressful and his mind needed something to mellow it all out. It was a scene straight out of cheesy romance flick but instead of being the watcher, wishing it was you who got to experience that corniness, you were actually living it and it couldn’t be more surreal.

One song had turned into four, and you can’t stop giggling the whole time as he holds your hand and sways your bodies to the gentle instruments working together to create a lovely symphony.

And to your liking—admittedly with a little bit of hesitation in your gut—Zayne began to get more handsy.

“This night is supposed to be about you,” you whisper as his hand presses you closer to him by your lower back.

“Anywhere you are is all there is to me.”

“Hm…Aren’t you quite the poet?”

He chuckles at that. “You see my truth as poetry?”

“Everything you do is poetic to me,” you shrug. “You’re so effortlessly intense in your emotions, but it’s not in a way that overwhelms. It…surrounds you instead. Protects you.”

“You haven’t had all of me just yet to know how much my intensity can burn.”

That sends shivers down your spine because you know exactly what he means. You can feel how your heartbeat increases.

“Really? And if I wanted to see?”

“You would be the first to and I’d be more than willing to show you.” The way his tone lowers and the suggestiveness of his statement makes every single goosebump possible dot along your skin.

Your eyes slightly widen, too. There’s no way. A man like him? You stop your movement, forcing him to do the same.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What exactly do you assume I’m saying?”

“Zayne!” you say in playful disbelief at how he seems to joke about some crucial information he’s never shared. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” He smiles with mischief, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “No matter how well I can read the expressions on your face, I unfortunately can never read your mind.”

“You’re so…” you groan. “You’re telling me the youngest, most handsome and talented cardiac surgeon in the country, has never had sex with anyone?”

“Never,” he says plainly.

“Why have you never said anything? You seem like someone to share a fact like that pretty early on.”

“While conversations pertaining to intimacy is inevitable in romantic relationships, because I did not want to intimidate you—and simply because it never became a topic of discussion—I never felt it was necessary to mention.” He gazes into your eyes. “Until now.”

“What’s different?”

“Well, it’s become a reality that I wouldn’t mind changing. If you were to give me the permission to do so, of course.” His hand cups your face and his thumb caresses your cheek. “I’ve dated before and I’ve had moments where the opportunity would arise, but sex has never been a casual exchange in my eyes. There’s nothing casual about us though, is there?”

You’re dumbfounded and more than willing to, but there’s just one thing. You briefly respond to his question with a shake of your head first before announcing your admission.

“I’ve never done this before either,” you breathe out, feeling immense relief about revealing something you shouldn’t have been embarrassed to say, but you knew it was the expectations of society that made you feel that way. But now, learning that Zayne is exactly the same brings you so much comfort, even if your reasonings for why may be different.

You’ve only been dating a little over two months and miraculously, sex has never happened nor has it been talked about. Similarly to him, you didn’t want to rush it or to make him feel obligated about something you weren’t sure he was ready for. Despite how much you wanted to jump his bones on all your dates and times together, you spent more of it appreciating and learning the complex man that is him.

But all that complexity is dropped as you can clearly see the lust that clouds his beautiful eyes and the need that continues to grow in the way he touches you.

“Maybe we were always meant to be the ones to find and teach each other. Would you like to test that theory?”

It’s like your body gravitates towards him and becomes incapable of forming a sentence to answer, so it takes the next best route and uses itself to respond for you. Your lips make contact with his soft ones, tasting him like you’ve done before, but there’s a different air to this kiss.

Your body presses into his as he keeps you in place by the back of your neck, the brief chill of his silver watch cooling the fervent heat burning along your skin. His tongue slips inside your mouth—not taking control—but working with yours in tandem to show you how mutual the craving for one another is.

The way he takes only a millisecond to separate from you to remove his glasses makes your pussy clench as he discards them on your kitchen counter. He returns to you immediately, holding your face in his hands this time while yours work frantically to unbutton the shirt that’s keeping you from seeing him.

You moan when he kisses down the side of your neck, your breath unable to stabilize because of how hot he’s gotten you.

“Your room,” he mumbles into you. “Let me do this right.”

You nod, but Zayne has you in his arms effortlessly like you’re made of paper before you can try and take him there. The dishes you haven’t washed become a problem for another time when you feel his bulge press against your hungry pussy through your panties on his trek.

He turns your light on so that he can see you clearly, his disheveled look making you think every filthy thought possible. It’s a sight to see compared to his usual put-together image.

“Even if this is new for us both,” he approaches you again, looking into your eyes for permission before he begins to slide the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders after you grant it. “You’re in control. You tell me what will and won’t happen and that is what it will be.”

Left in your bra and panties, you feel so grateful to have a man like him being the one to walk into this world pleasure with. But despite how comfortable you are with him, you’re still nervous. It’s with slightly shaky hands that you continue to undo the rest of his buttons, feeling his eyes on you as his hard body is revealed.

You can’t stop from how you clench over and over around nothing, knowing that you need him to fill that emptiness inside you so desperately that it’s becoming uncomfortable. The clink of his belt makes your nipples tighten and you watch how the veins disappear into his pants like they’re a pathway to where you need to be.

He lets the silence rest, allowing for you to move at your own pace. For that, you’re incredibly thankful because you know that by the way his abs flex every time you graze his skin, the desire to be all over you is strong.

You gulp as you get the pants completely undone, looking up at him. He doesn’t waste a moment nodding for you to keep going, the need to be released from his confines becoming overwhelming. He strains so deliciously in his black boxers that cling to his thighs and it shouldn’t be such an erotic image, but it is.

“Fuck, Zayne…” you exhale when his erect cock springs out and briefly smacks against his toned stomach. Like the rest of him, it’s absolutely perfect. Long but not too long, thick but not too much girth that it makes you wince at the mere thought of it inside of you, and curved ever so slightly that if you weren’t taking the time to admire it, you wouldn’t notice.

There’s a tingle that you can no longer ignore, forcing you to press your thighs together. You’re so wet that you can feel your pussy lips slide against each other every time you shift your hips to suppress the ache.

You grasp him in your hand and the way he borderline falls apart has you gushing. His mouth is slightly parted and his face flushed as you stroke him enough to give his cock some relief.

“Does that feel good?” You swipe your thumb over the tip like you’ve see so many times in videos before and the reaction he has is breathtaking. He nods frantically, his heartbeat pulsing rapidly in his strong neck.

“Please let me touch you,” he begs. “You’re supposed to be feeling good, too.”

“I already do.” You start to jerk him off, feeling the weight of his dick in your hand as you use his precum to get him wet. “I’m yours, Zayne. Touch me as much as you want.”

What kind of man would he be to not listen to his woman?

He quickly makes work of your tedious bra, getting it off of you and immediately sucking on your tits like it’s all that was on his mind during your teasing. You cry out when he gently bites your sensitive nub before switching over to the other to give it some attention. At the same time, he snakes his hand into your panties.

You instinctively raise your leg to give him room as he works your clit, your hips bucking against him while he circles you beneath his fingertip. Together, you use your hands to stoke each other’s raging fire.

“Baby, that feels so good,” you whine when his hot tongue lays flat against your peak before licking around it like it’s a skill he’s had all along. His fingers keep their steady pace as you continue to drench them in your pleasure. Then he slides one finger inside, the feeling of him infinitely better than when you do it to yourself.

“Lay down,” he mumbles, getting one more quick suck before you pull back to get into your bed. You watch him pull his clothes off all the way, your legs spread as your panties dig in between the plush lips of your cunt.

Zayne picks up his pants briefly to dig into his pocket and when he pulls out a condom, you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve never carried one before until I met you,” he admits, tossing it on your end table for easy access when it’s time. “I always knew it would be you and humans are spontaneous creatures—as we’re proving.”

He climbs into the bed, getting in between your legs and caressing the outside of your thighs as he admires the dampened fabric of where your juices have soaked your underwear. “I just wanted to be prepared for when it happened.”

Irresponsibly enough, you were ready to fuck him raw, but you won’t admit that out loud.

“I’m ready for you, Zayne,” you rest your hand on his jaw, running your finger across his lips like he always does to yours. He shudders at your touch. “But if I said that I wanted to be on top, would you let me?”

“You don’t need my permission. I already told you,” he leans down to kiss you. “You’re in control.

You get up and he doesn’t need you to tell him to sit so that you can get ready to climb in his lap. While you work your panties down your legs, he rips the packaging of the condom with his teeth and you nearly drool as you watch him work the rubber down his hard cock.

Riding Zayne has been a fantasy you’ve had for far too long. You’re more than confident that you can take him like this—it’s like your body is screaming at you to not let the opportunity pass when it’s right there for you to take.

“Look at me,” he commands you gently as your knees rest on either side of him. “Don’t hesitate to stop or tell me to if it gets too much. Your safety and comfort comes first.”

“Okay,” you breathe. With one more look into your eyes, he guides his dick to your quivering hole and the pleasure is instantaneous.

The moment the crown of his cock pushes inside you and you begin to sink your hips down, you and him are moaning like you’ve never felt anything so perfect and if you were to ask each other, your answer would be the same—you haven’t.

There’s no pain, no resistance—nothing that makes you want to stop when he starts to become familiar with the way you feel on the inside.

If he feels this good with a condom on, you’re convinced that the day you have him without one will be the day you conceive your first child.

“Zayne..” you pant, looking down to watch how he disappears completely into your heat. The first time you grind your hips and your clit gets that spark of friction, you have to pause before you lost yourself completely.

Below you, your boyfriend is unable to think straight and for the first time in your life, you’re witnessing your man have no semblance of control. When your tight walls sucked him inside, he was so sure that he was close to coming, but he refused to end something so good, so soon.

With his hands on your hips, he holds you firmly while you start to find your comfort zone, your movement becoming consistent as you work towards giving him and you the satisfaction you’re looking for.

You never expected Zayne to be so vocal and it encourages you more than it shocks you. With hooded eyes, he whimpers without a care in the world the more he pulses inside of you, his grip shifting in strength as he tries his hardest to make sure you get there first. You press yourself closer to him, letting the squelching sounds of your pussy suffocating him be all the reassurance you need that you’re doing it right.

“I’m close, love,” he warns you, sweat beading at his hairline the faster you go. Your thighs burn, but it only adds to the bliss.

You’re right there too, feeling that familiar coil in your stomach that’s grown tenfold when you share this kind of moment with the man you love. You rock yourself faster as his strong arms hold you tight, giving his cock no room to breathe the closer your orgasm approaches.

“You’re….oh fuck, ‘s so good,” you cry. “I’m gonna…Zayne, ‘m coming—” You bury your face in his neck when you start creaming around his length, your hips slowing but still going as you feel the condom swell inside of you when he spills his load into it. Briefly, you wished you could’ve felt it leak out of you instead.

You feel how his chest rises when yours falls as you kiss down his shoulder after you take the time to settle and relish in the feeling you can’t quite name, but you want to have it all the time.

“That was nice,” you hum. “Really nice.”

“It was.” His hands smooth down your back tenderly. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.”

“Good. On that we can agree.”

You sit back to look at him, biting your lip with a grin. “You…have another condom?”

“No, unfortunately.” The corner of his mouth tilts up. “But I can make a trip to the store for a box.”

“Are we being greedy?”

“Greed implies that we’ve selfishly overindulged ourselves. That was our first time, love.” He kisses the corner of your lips. “We are far from being finished.”

You repeat his words, knowing that he’s absolutely right.

“On that, we can agree.”

A/N: I wanted to ask you guys: Do you like when I give you a whole bunch of plot/backstory before I start jumping into smut or do you just want smut? I think it’s the book writer in me that’s always trying to give something before I dive into the sex LOLLL!! Also, let me know what you think about this one (if you’re comfortable). I’m sure you noticed there wasn’t as much dialogue because as two inexperienced people having sex for the first time, I’m sure dirty talking/actions wouldn’t really be happening, so this fic is really vanilla & mainly based on visualizing. I hope I wrote it vividly enough. I talked a lot on this post, didn’t I? LOLLL OKAY, I LUV YOU! BYE!

[atefingers]

professor ! abby x reader

cw not proofread. professor x student (obviously) subtop!reader, power bottom abby, i guess??? she’s so sexy i need to fuck her ough. strap referred to as cock :P abby calls reader pup like once Sorry im mentally ill and have a problem Ok

"hey.. focus."

abby's voice cuts through your hazy thoughts, her large hand engulfing your thigh, grip tight. she scoffs as you jot some random numbers down, shaking her head.

"what happened to my star student, huh?" she pouts, tilting your head towards her. "you're usually on top of it."

you shake your head, brows knitting together.

"i.. i don't know." a simple mumble leaving your lips, too entranced by her hand on your thigh to say anything coherent. "can i have a break?"

abby simply laughs, shaking her head. "fine, but i need you to do somethin' for me." she pats your thigh, small smirk on her lips. she presses a series of small kisses along the side of your neck, adjusting your position in her lap.

"yeah. whatever you want, professor." you say softly, gaze meeting hers, head tilting to allow her more access.

she grins at that, patting your thigh again. "up." abby rasps, moving to lead you back into her bedroom. you know where this is going.

you sit on the edge of her neatly made bed, hands folded in your lap. you always were polite when it came to abby, watching as she grabbed a shoebox from her closet.

"you know what i want, yeah? gonna be good for me?" abby asks, leaning down to kiss your cheek. it's almost sweet, really. you're nearly so caught up in how soft her lips are against your cheek that you're barely noticing her shoving the box into your hands. "c'mon."

you nod, gaze meeting hers. "alright, alright.." you get up, disappearing into her en-suite bathroom to shimmy out of your jeans and take the obnoxiously pink strap out of abby's shoebox, fastening above your boxers.

meanwhile, abby's shimmying herself out of her slacks and unbuttoning her shirt, leaving it on and open, ultimately slutting herself out for you in a way she knows is irresistible. she sits against her pillows, legs crossed and shirt open, awaiting your arrival in the most impatient way possible.

as you emerge a heat spikes in your stomach almost immediately, gaze landing on abby's nearly bare form on the bed. "fuckin' finally." she grumbles, beckoning you closer.

abby laughs as you crawl over to her on the bed, tugging you down for a sloppy kiss.

"gonna earn that break, huh?" she nearly purrs, grinning at your eager nod, her fingers tangling in the back of your head. "well? go on."

you scramble to tug her lacy panties off, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as her wet heat gets exposed to you, hands finding home on her strong thighs. you know your routine, bending down to try and nestle yourself between her thighs, ready and eager until abby pushes you away.

"not tonight. you've not earned your reward, pup." she tsks, grinning when you whine.

abby takes her sweet time getting on her hands and knees, discarding her unbuttoned shirt, hips swaying as she gets herself in full downward dog position, spread open and dripping.

"jesus." you shuffle behind her, spreading her fully open with your thumbs, teeth sinking your bottom lip. "you're dripping."

abby huffs, glancing back over her shoulder to look at her. "hurry up." she barks, her brows furrowed in a pout. "takin' too long."

without a wordy, ou slowly bottom out inside of her, hands finding her hips, head thrown back as if the dildo is physically attached to your body. you start with slow, long strokes, grip so tight on abby's hips you're sure it's bruising.

"faster." she instructs. "you wanna make me feel good, don't you?"

you do exactly as she says, thrusting with more fervor, the sound of her ass and your thighs meeting filling the room, along with your combined moans.

abby glances over her shoulder, unable to keep herself from laughing at the look of pure desperation on your face, shaking her head.

"jesus, you're pathetic." she mumbles. "if you cum before i do i'm flunking you, y'know that right?"

a soft whine escapes your lips, nodding softly. “y-yeah.. i get it, professor." you moan, shifting a little bit, trying to adjust yourself so that the strap isn't directly over your buzzing clit.

abby slams her hips back against yours, a throaty moan leaving her lips. "yeah.. good job, baby.." her voice is low and seductive, pretty blue eyes hidden by her eyelids as she continues to move against you, growing more and more desperate.

she moans as you thrust deeper, taken aback by the sudden switch in your movements, hands clawing at the sheets. "fuck, fuck."

it gets harder to move, abby's walls are clenching down on your cock, she's close and so are you. "don't stop, please." she whines, and when she looks so perfect sprawled out beneath you, how can you deny her what she wants.

your thrusts grow more and more desperate, legs shaking as you try and withhold your own orgasm, desperate to make her cum first. luckily she does, a loud moan slipping from her lips as her orgasm washes over her, slumping onto the bed.

following shortly after, you bottom out inside of her, a whine ripping from your throat, grip on her hips never wavering. "fuck." you fall forward, chest pressed to her back, nosing into neck with a sigh.

abby glances over her shoulder, small smile on her lips. "y'did good." she whispers, still coming down from her high. "take the strap off 'n hold me, yeah?"

she sounds almost needy, you don't waste time, kicking the strap off and sliding into bed alongside her, arm wrapping around her shoulders, smiling as she snuggles up to your chest.

"guess you're not failin' after all, huh?"

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Sweet on you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Authors note: so I'm on the fluffy side again, no angst this time, I swear, only pink buttercream swirls and a very sweet grumpy super soldier 🥰🥰🥰

Warnings: fluff, SMUT 18+, lots of sugar and a bit of suppressed feelings

Word Count: 4,9K

Summary: Decorating cupcakes for Mel's bridal shower should’ve been a simple task until Bucky Barnes offers to help. One frosting fight, a kitchen full of chaos, and a few stolen kisses later, it’s clear the tension between you isn’t just in your imagination.

“Come on, it’s just one afternoon!” you plead, practically begging as you trail after Ava across the rec room, while she’s trying to make a swift escape into the hallway.

“I’m not asking you to sew a wedding dress from scratch, just bake a few cupcakes and help with the frosting – pink creamy swirls, that’s it.”

Ava doesn't even break stride. “I have an extraction in Prague in six hours.”

You groan. “You’re literally intangible, you could phase in, phase out, and pipe a few rosettes on your way out the door.”

“No.”

You spin around and aim your best puppy eyes at Red Guardian, sitting at the big table and chewing something. Is it just you, or is he always chewing something?

He raises his hands. “I do not bake. That is women’s chaos.”

You stare at him. “What does that even mean?”

“I said what I said.”

You throw your hands up and pivot toward Yelena, your last hope, who’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, polishing a knife and blowing pink bubbles with her chewing gum.

“Yelena,” you say, trying not to sound desperate. “Please, it’s Mel’s wedding shower. Mel. She let you borrow her dress for that infiltration in Vegas. You owe her.”

Yelena chews slowly, then shrugs. “I don’t do sugar.”

“Then pretend! Wear gloves! Anything! I just need an extra set of hands.”

She pauses, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, then they glint with sudden revelation. “Use him.”

You blink. “Use who?”

She jerks her chin toward the door.

You turn, and there he is.

Bucky Barnes stands in the doorway, brow furrowed like he just walked into an ambush. He pauses, clearly catching the tail end of your meltdown, eyes flicking between you and Yelena with a look that says he regrets coming in at all.

“Use me for what?” he asks slowly.

You freeze.

Nope, absolutely not! Abort mission!

Bucky is the last person you’d ask for help, not because you don’t want it, but because you do – you want his help, you want his attention, God, you’d never say it out loud, but the truth is… you want him.

And that’s exactly why you keep your distance, because Bucky is … Bucky.

He’s been cool and polite since the day you joined the Thunderbolts, never rude, never unkind, just distant, reserved, like he’s keeping you at arm’s length on purpose and you’re not about to throw yourself at him like a lovesick idiot when he’s clearly not interested.

You swallow and wave awkwardly. “Nothing. It's fine. I’ll just, uh, do it myself.”

“Incorrect,” Yelena says, already pushing off the couch with a wicked glint in her eye. “You said you need hands. He has two. Technically one and a half.”

Bucky glances down at his metal arm like it surprised him. “What exactly am I helping with?”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, waving a hand. “I’m just being dramatic. Ignore me.”

Yelena, of course, does not ignore you. “She needs help decorating cupcakes for Mel’s bridal shower. Piping bags. Ribbons. Pink and pastel chaos. I know you’re soft on the inside.”

You feel your soul leave your body. “Yelena, no. He doesn’t have to…”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly baffled. “You want me to… decorate cupcakes?”

You can’t even meet his eyes. “No, no, you really don’t have to…”

“OK, I’ll help.”

You blink and he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Mel’s cool. And you seem stressed.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your brain stalls, and for a moment you struggle for words.

“Great,” Yelena uses the opportunity. “I’ll go tell Mel that Bucky Barnes is decorating cupcakes for her bridal shower. She’ll die.”

Bucky frowns. “Wait, why is that funny?”

You meet his eyes for the first time, and your throat dries. “It’s not. It’s just… unexpected.”

His lips twitch into the faintest smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

The kitchen smells like vanilla and warm sugar, a soft hum of music plays from your phone on the counter and you glance up from the bowl of batter just as Bucky steps back from the oven, proudly closing the door with a dramatic flourish.

God help you.

His hair’s a little messy from where he kept brushing it back with flour-dusted fingers, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled halfway up his forearms.

“One tray down,” he declares, metal hand resting on his hip like he just saved the damn world.

You grin, licking a bit of batter off your spoon. “You’re really taking this whole cupcake mission seriously.”

He shrugs, almost bashful. “It’s Mel’s shower. Besides, you said it was important.”

You blink. “Yeah. I just didn’t expect…”

One thing is surely true – from all the possibilities you didn’t expect him to be the one standing here in your kitchen, helping.

He looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m just here to help.”

He tries, he really tries to make it sound as nonchalant as possible, almost like he doesn’t think he belongs here, like he’s just doing you a favour, and not quietly, desperately hoping this afternoon will stretch a little longer. 

Inwardly, he’s cursing himself for the umpteenth time already.

Cupcakes, Barnes? Really?

He’s never baked a damn thing in his life, let alone frosted something pink and dainty enough for a bridal shower. He should’ve picked something else to impress you, something cool, tactical, not... buttercream-related.

But when Yelena volunteered him and you didn’t immediately shut it down, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. How could he? This was the first real chance he’s had to be around you, really around you, in your home, not in training or on missions or with the whole team watching.

And maybe, just maybe, if he can manage not to completely humiliate himself with a piping bag, you’ll see he’s not that miserable after all, and maybe you’ll stop feeling so out of reach.

You raise a brow, forcing some levity back into your voice. “I bet you just want to lick the spoon.”

He doesn’t deny it, instead, he reaches over, dips a finger into the batter, and brings it to his mouth – not the flesh hand – the metal one.  

Your brain short-circuits – the sight of his tongue curling around vibranium should not be this distracting, but there it is, lighting a fuse somewhere low in your belly.

“Pretty sure that’s a health violation,” you mutter, trying to sound unaffected as you reach for the piping bags.

“I’m not baking for a Michelin star, doll. Just trying to impress your cupcake crowd.”

You pause at that. Doll? Impress? Them or… you?

You hand him a piping bag filled with pastel-pink frosting. “Please, try not turning the frosting into abstract art.”

He accepts the bag carefully, like it’s a weapon he’s not trained for. “I’ll have you know,” he says, giving you a sideways glance, “I watched four cupcake decorating tutorials on YouTube last night.”

You blink. “You did what?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning over the counter like it’s classified intel. “I’m committed.”

You try not to smile, but it slips through. He’s awkward, earnest, and so fucking sexy, and it kills you.

Especially when you glance at the ridiculous apron you made him wear: white, with “Bite Me (I’m Sweet)” printed in loopy pink cursive across the chest.

You half expected him to roll his eyes and retreat the moment you handed it to him, but he didn’t, he just tied it on without complaint, and somehow… somehow he just manages to look both impossibly hot and impossibly cute in it. With rolled-up sleeves, jaw dusted with flour and that quiet focus etched across his brow… he looks so completely out of place and yet so right in your kitchen.

And that’s what’s dangerous.

“So,” he adds, positioning himself at the counter beside you. “How do I make mine look like yours?”

Your hand moves before your thoughts do, as you reach out to guide him, fingers brushing his wrist, and your stomach flips like you’re teetering on the edge of something huge.

“Like this,” you say softly, helping him guide the bag. “Steady pressure… and swirl from the outside in.”

His head tilts, and when you glance up, his face is so close, closer than expected and for a moment you just stop breathing.

There’s something in his expression that makes your knees go a little weak – a hesitancy, like he’s afraid to look at you too long, and a tenderness like maybe… oh, no, girl, get those stupid thoughts out of your head, you’re imagining too much, you mentally slap yourself and try to refocus on the task at hand.

“You’re good at this,” he murmurs.

You glance up at him. “Teaching you how to pipe frosting?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes flicking to your mouth. “That too.”

There’s a beat of silence, the music hums gently in the background, the scent of sugar thick in the air, and your breath catches just a little too obviously.

Suddenly his metal finger dips back into the frosting bowl, and before you can react, he smears a swipe of pink right across your cheek.

You gasp, mouth falling open. “James Buchanan Barnes!”

He grins, really grins, and the rare sparkle in his eyes knocks the breath right out of you. “What? You had something on your face.”

“Oh, you’re so dead,” you growl, lunging for the frosting bowl with a wicked glint in your eye.

You scoop up a generous portion of frosting, brandishing the spatula like a weapon.

Bucky’s grin falters, just slightly, as he checks the mischief in your eyes. “Wait…wait, hold on…”

Too late, you swipe a thick smear of pink frosting across his cheekbone with gleeful precision. “There. Now you have something on your face.”

He stares at you, mouth open in mock betrayal, fingers slowly wiping the frosting away.

“You realise, this means war.”

“Catch me, if you can,” you shoot back, grinning, and take off before he can retaliate.

He lunges, and you shriek with a laugh as you duck behind the kitchen island, nearly sending a mixing bowl flying. He chases after you, laughter booming in his chest, rich and free in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever heard from him before, and it makes something inside you flutter wildly.

You grab another spoonful of frosting and launch it over your shoulder, it hits him square in the shoulder with a soft smack.

“You little menace,” he growls, swiping a handful of powdered sugar from the counter and flinging it at you.

“Saboteur!” you shout, blinking sugar from your lashes.

You’re ducking and dodging, laughing so hard it hurts, frosting on your cheek, powdered sugar and flour streaked across your apron and hands. Bucky lobs a spoonful of soft-pink frosting that misses your head by inches and lands on the fridge.

“Friendly fire, Barnes!” you yell.

“You started it!”

“Because you smeared frosting on me!”

“You looked like you needed a smile!”

Another volley and this time it’s you, launching a handful of sprinkles that explode across his hair and shoulders like edible confetti, and he just stands there, blinking through rainbow chaos, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

Then he pounces, catches you by the waist as you try to slip past the island again, spinning you around with embarrassing ease. You squirm and squeal in his arms, twisting like you still have a chance, but he’s strong, steady and unfairly fast.

And then he smears frosting onto the tip of your nose with his finger.

“Got you,” he murmurs, breathless and flushed.

You stare up at him, cheeks burning, chest brushing his with every ragged inhale, the spatula in your hand hangs useless now, your fingers sticky and shaking.

The kitchen is a mess, there are flour footprints across the floor, rogue sprinkles clinging to the cabinets, frosting in places frosting absolutely shouldn't be, and you’re breathless with laughter, cheeks aching and heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with too much sugar.

You lean against the counter to catch your breath, Bucky’s hand – the cool metal one – comes up slowly, brushing a smear of pink from your cheek with his thumb. The touch is featherlight. You freeze.

His eyes are already on your mouth.

“You’ve got something right… here,” he murmurs, your breath catches and before you can process what’s happening – he kisses you.

It’s soft at first, hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to pull away, but you don’t. You couldn’t if you tried.

You kiss him back, slow and uncertain. His hand – the warm flesh one this time – rises to cup your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his body still not quite touching yours, like he’s afraid to press too far, too fast.

He swallows hard, parting from your lips. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, like he means it. “I just…”

You stop him with a soft smile, lips still tingling. “Don’t be.”

His eyes flicker over your face.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows. “What?”

“You’ve always been… distant, cold. I figured you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

He huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh and shakes his head. “No, doll. I stayed away because I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

You blink. “You’re kidding.”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You’re too cool for me.”

“Too cool for you?” You let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “You wrestle bad guys with your bare hands, brood in corners like it’s your second job, and somehow still manage to look hot in an apron that says ‘Bite Me, I’m Sweet.’ You’re the cool one, Barnes.”

His lips twitch. “Still I managed to kiss you.”

“Miracle,” you murmur, leaning into him again, your voice softer now. “Do it again.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time, his lips crush against yours, the kiss deepens, it’s slow and searching, like he’s trying to map your mouth with his. Your hands tangle in his hair, flour-dusted and soft between your fingers. There’s frosting on your chin, sugar in your hair, but none of it matters, not when his lips feel like that, not when he kisses you like he’s afraid he won’t get another chance.

He breaks away just long enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, voice rough. “Tell me to stop.”

“Why would I do that?” you whisper, already pulling him in again.

He exhales, relieved and wrecked, and the next kiss is even deeper and hungrier.

He lifts you effortlessly, his hands curling under your thighs, setting you on the counter like you weigh nothing. The sudden shift knocks a cupcake tray to the floor, but neither of you cares. He steps in close, slotting his body between your knees, hands roaming without direction – one warm and steady, the other cool and strange but just as careful.

His vibranium fingers brush your bare skin beneath the hem of your apron, you suck in a sharp breath as the contrast sends a shiver straight through you.

“Too cold?” he murmurs, pausing.

You shake your head, a little breathless. “No, just different. But good.”

Encouraged, his hands keep exploring, bolder now, his metal fingers slip beneath the edge of your soft velour shorts and press gently between your thighs, through the thin cotton of your underwear and you gasp, hips shifting into his touch before you can stop yourself.

He stills.

“Too much?” he asks again, voice low, but laced with concern.

You look at him and your chest aches at what you see: the hesitation in his eyes, the way he’s holding himself back, terrified he’s crossed a line even though you’re practically melting for him.

You slide your hand over his jaw, thumb brushing his unshaven cheek. “Not too much. Not even close.”

Something flickers behind his eyes, something fierce and unguarded, and then his mouth is on yours again. His flesh hand wraps around your waist, steadying you, while his metal fingers push your panties aside and slide through your slick folds.

The cool touch makes you shiver, but it’s the contrast – hard metal and soft pressure – that has your breath catching, as your forehead falls against his shoulder with a soft thud and a moan slips out before you can muffle it. 

“What did you tell me?” he whispers in your ear. “Steady pressure… and swirl from the outside in.”

You gasp when one of those fingers start teasing your entrance, circling before slowly easing in. You clutch at his shoulders, clinging to him as he pumps it gently, then adds another, stretching you with firm, patient care.

His mouth follows the trail of frosting and flour on your skin like a man starving – your collarbone, your throat, the hollow of your neck.

“You see?” he groans, his tongue flicking along the line of your jaw. “These fingers do a hell of a lot more than spread frosting.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair as his metal hand moves with more confidence now, learning you, what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble, what draws out that desperate sound he seems to crave.

Your hips roll into his touch, breath stuttering when his fingers find that perfect rhythm, slow and deep, and so damn good.

His thumb brushes your clit in slow, teasing circles as his fingers continue working you, and your body starts to tremble, heat building fast. He’s relentless in the best way, drawing soft, broken sounds from your lips as your head tips back against the cabinet behind you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmurs, lips brushing your throat. “Wanna come on my fingers first?”

You whimper in response, nodding, hips grinding down into his hand, chasing the friction shamelessly now.

His fingers curve, and your body jolts with pleasure, another moan escaping your lips, louder this time, helpless, you’re barely coherent now, panting and whining.

It builds faster than you expect, tight and hot and overwhelming.

“Bucky…I…” you gasp, and he kisses your temple.

“Let go, baby,” he whispers. “Come on. I’ve got you.”

And when you finally do, tumbling over the edge with a loud, broken moan, thighs shaking, body arching into him, it’s like everything else melts away, it’s just heat, frosting, and the sound of his voice in your ear, telling you what a good girl you are for him.

He holds you through it, steady and strong, pressing soft kisses to your cheek, your jaw, your mouth, his hand never leaves you, not until you’re done shaking and collapse against him, breathless, half-laughing, half-stunned.

When the tremors finally fade, he eases his fingers out and kisses your forehead, chest heaving against yours.

“Jesus, Buck,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed. “That was…”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back from your face. “It was.”

Bucky’s arms wrap around you from both sides, pulling you into his solid chest and you stay there, nestled against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath and the unmistakable hardness pressing against you.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, as if he’s afraid that showing how much he wants you might ruin the fragile, perfect thing unfolding between you, but his body gives him away.

You tilt your head up, lips brushing his. “Your turn?”

His voice is quiet, almost unsure. “Only if... you really want to. I… I don’t need anything. Just having you like this is already more than I thought I’d ever get.”

You lean in, brushing your lips over his jaw. “I want to make you feel that good, too.”

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to keep himself from shattering on the spot. “You already do.”

You smile against his skin. “I can do better. Let me show you.”

You slip off the counter and gently turn him around, pressing his lower back against the edge, as you reach behind him to untie the sexy apron before your fingers trail to the hem of his shirt. “Off.”

He obliges, pulling it over his head and tossing it somewhere behind you, possibly onto a cupcake, but priorities have shifted.

Your hands slide up his chest, warm flesh over steel muscle, the dips and ridges of him, so solid and steady, and beautiful. His body isn’t perfect, he wouldn’t even call it good, but you look at him like he’s a piece of art carved from marble, and it makes him dizzy.

“God, you’re…” you trail off, fingers grazing the joint where metal meets skin at his shoulder. “You’re gorgeous, Bucky.”

He laughs softly, disbelieving, nervous. “You’re biased.”

“I am. Wildly.” You press your lips to the center of his chest. “Still true.”

He swallows hard, his hand cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like he still can’t believe this is real. “Tell me what to do,” he says, voice low. “Where you want me.”

“I want you right here,” you whisper, sliding your hand down and cupping him through his jeans, your palm firm and slow, he hisses in a breath, eyes going dark.

You drop to your knees before he can say a word, fingers working his fly as you glance up at him through your lashes. 

When you free him, thick and flushed and already leaking, his breath stutters, and then stops entirely as you wrap your lips around him. 

“Shit,” he breathes, bracing one hand on the counter, the other twitching at his side like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You start slow, your tongue teasing the underside, your hand stroking what you can’t take, his vibranium arm grips the edge of the counter so hard it creaks.

“Fuck… baby,” he groans, jaw clenched, eyes shut like he’s trying not to lose it too fast. 

You hum around him, pleased, pulling a low moan from his throat, his hips twitch, but you hold him there, mouth wet and eager, taking him deeper until he brushes the back of your throat and his knees nearly buckle.

“Please,” he rasps, as he looks down at you, like he’s never seen anything so filthy and beautiful all at once. “I’m not gonna last if you keep…”

You pull off just enough to murmur, “Good,” before sinking back down, lips sealing around him once more and this time, you don’t hold back.

You bob your head in a slow, steady rhythm, hand wrapped around the base of him, working in tandem with your mouth. You swirl your tongue along the underside, savoring every gasp he gives you, every shaky breath and whispered curse that tumbles out of him.

“Ohhh….fuck,” he groans, his voice cracking, metal fingers threading through your hair, not pushing, just holding.

You glance up at him through your lashes and moan around him, just to feel the way his body jolts in response, his thighs tremble, hips twitching again, trying not to thrust but so close to the edge he can barely help it.

“God,” he chokes out, chest heaving. “You’re gonna…shit, I’m gonna…”

You take him deeper, until your nose brushes his lower belly and he lets out a ragged, broken sound, his body tenses, and with a guttural groan, he comes hard, spilling into your mouth, his hand clenching in your hair as his hips stutter against your lips.

You swallow around him, slowly, gently, not letting go until he’s gasping for air and tugging you back with shaky hands.

He’s still breathing hard when you rise to your feet, licking your lips with deliberate slowness, eyes locked on his.

Bucky’s hand finds your waist in a daze, pulling you in, you smile, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “Still think I’m too cool for you?”

He laughs, softly. “Yeah. But I’m not letting that stop me anymore.”

“Good,” you cup his jaw, brushing your lips against his before you kiss him again, greedily slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he groans, low and helpless, grabbing at your hips as he turns, lifting you in one fluid motion and setting you back onto the counter.

His mouth is everywhere, your throat, your collarbone, the slope of your shoulder. His hands tremble just slightly as he pulls off your T-shirt, your shorts and your soaked panties follow, as he tosses them somewhere into the flour-dusted chaos. 

He leans back for a moment to look at you – bare, flushed, wanting – then wraps one hand around himself, stroking slowly from base to tip. He’s already thick and hard, but he takes his time, watching you with dark, hooded eyes as his other hand slips between your thighs, fingers gliding through the slick heat of you.

You moan, breathless, hips twitching toward his hand as his thumb circles your clit just right, sending sparks through your limbs, but your eyes keep flicking lower, watching the steady movement of his hand over his cock, hard and glistening at the tip, and you swear your whole body clenches in anticipation.

When he finally steps between your legs and pulls you to the edge of the counter, your heart races. He lines himself up, the swollen head pressing against your entrance.

He doesn’t push in yet, just holds there, letting you feel it.

The stretch when he finally starts to press into you is intense – a slow, thick push that has you gasping, back arching as your body yields around him inch by inch.

“Jesus, Bucky…” you breathe, gripping the edge of the counter.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs with a groan, as he bottoms out. “You take me so damn well.”

You feel impossibly full, every inch of you stretched to accommodate him, the pressure riding the edge of too much, but it’s exactly what you want, exactly who you want.

He starts to move slow and deep, like he’s afraid you’ll break, but the way you gasp and cling to him makes it very clear you’re not fragile, you want him rough, you want him deep and raw. You just want him in every possible way.

And God, once he sees it, feels it, something in him snaps, he growls low in his throat, hands tightening on your hips as he picks up the pace, thrusts growing harder, sharper, more desperate. The counter jolts under you with every movement, a frosting bowl toppling to the floor with a clatter you barely register.

All you can focus on is him, the stretch, the heat, the delicious drag of him inside you over and over, stealing every breath and thought from your head. Your moans rise with every snap of his hips, unfiltered, raw, your fingers digging into his shoulders for something to hold onto.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, mouth at your ear. “You feel so good, so fucking good, can’t believe you’re mine.”

You gasp at that – mine – because you want to be. You are.

“Harder,” you whisper, the word half-moan, half-beg.

His thrusts turn feral, his grip bruising in the best possible way as he fucks you like he’s trying to make you feel every inch of him, like he’s making up for every minute he spent holding back. The slap of skin against skin echoes through the sugar-sweet air, drowned only by your moans and the sound of his ragged, desperate breathing.

Your orgasm builds fast, dizzying, the pressure coiling sharp and tight in your core.

“I’m… Bucky…I’m gonna…”

“I’ve got you,” he growls, his hand slipping down between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit in quick, perfect circles. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

You fall apart on a sob, walls clenching around him as your orgasm rips through you, white-hot, devastating. He curses, feeling you squeeze around him, and thrusts a few more times before he follows with a broken moan, burying himself deep as he comes hard, hips stuttering, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

You're both shaking, breathless, ruined.

He doesn't pull away, just holds you there, hands gentle again, mouth brushing your temple, your cheek, anywhere he can reach like he needs to prove to himself that it’s real.

“Are you okay?” he whispers eventually, still buried inside you.

You smile against his jaw. “Better than okay.”

The sound of bare feet shuffling against the floor is the first thing that returns to the ruined kitchen, followed by a gentle puff of steam as you and Bucky re-enter, freshly showered.

He exhales, relief pouring out of him as he kisses you again.

There’s a suspicious red mark on Bucky’s collarbone and a matching one on your thigh, but neither of you mention them.

You move slowly, limbs still shaky, your whole body deliciously sore in the best possible way. You had really meant to just take a shower, when you’d shoved a pink-and-white frosting-smeared Bucky into the bathroom, but you hadn’t quite accounted for the fact that your newly minted boyfriend (oh God, was he really that now?) also happened to be a super soldier with super soldier stamina.

The shower had quickly devolved into another round, maybe two, possibly three. You lost count somewhere between his mouth on your neck and being pinned against the fogged-up glass, Bucky buried in you to the hilt while steaming water poured over both of you, muffling every gasp and moan.

Now, standing side by side in the wreckage of your kitchen, reality hits you like a sugar-dusted freight train.

“…Oh my God,” you whisper, hand flying to your mouth, and Bucky follows your gaze.

The kitchen looks like a war zone – a frosted, sprinkled, powdered-sugar-bombed war zone.

Flour coats every surface like freshly fallen snow, a piping bag lies crushed and limp across the counter, one cupcake tray is face down on the floor, and a single rogue cupcake sits in the sink, soaked and tragic. 

Bucky surveys the carnage in silence for a beat, then runs a hand through his damp hair and mutters, “I don’t think I can ever look at cupcakes the same way again.”

“Mel’s going to kill me,” you gasp, tears in your eyes.

“She’ll understand,” Bucky says, pulling you closer. “Tell her it was a matter of national security.”

“You think so? And what exactly were we protecting?”

He leans down, lips brushing your temple. “Your smile.”

You glance up at him, warm all over again.

“OK,” he adds, sighing as he surveys the mess, “I guess we’re starting from scratch.”

You nod, slipping your arms around his waist. “Good thing I’ve got backup now.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing you tight. “Yeah. Your frosting soldier is reporting for duty.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your smile against his chest and somewhere in the midst of flour and pink buttercream, you both know this was never about the cupcakes.

[cloverstellar]

I think something a lot of the general audience for stranger things is forgetting to consider is WHY Will is so interwoven into Vecna’s plan in season five, and how him dying doesn’t make sense.

Will has now been essentially confirmed as a lead if not the new total main character of stranger things in the date announcement trailer. Why? If he was just a target for Vecna’s possession, wouldn’t the season be marketing him more like it did with Max in season four? While Max had a pivotal role in being possessed by Vecna, she wasn’t THE main character for four, and Vecna clearly needed her dead (and had no qualms about killing El at the end too).

Vecna DOESN’T want Will dead.

Will, while under the influence of the mind flayer in season two, said (in a gross summarization) “the mind flayer wants to kill everyone BUT me.” and now it’s been confirmed by Will at the end of season four in his talk with Mike that it was ALWAYS vecna targeting him, even from the beginning. that means vecna doesn’t want Will dead, and needs him alive. He needs Will for something beyond just being a spy, because a spy is useless once everyone is dead. Why keep Will alive after killing everyone else in season 2?

(putting everything else under a cut bc I ramble)

something about Will is incredibly important to the new seasons plot outside of just a potential possession. If Vecna wanted to possess him for spy purposes or for another gate death, why Will? It doesn’t make much sense outside of that lingering connection to him, because all the characters now know that Will could at any point be walking eyes for Henry, which renders being a spy useless. so why is Will so important to Vecna? It was confirmed by the duffers that we’ll finally see why Will was taken, confirming that it wasn’t just a simple accident like it was portrayed as in season one. And here’s the one reason I can think of:

Will has powers, and Vecna needs them. Maybe not powers in the traditional stranger things hand-raised-bloody-nosed sense, but maybe in a way that’s a bit more like Kali? Something creative. Most powered individuals in stranger things usually make things levitate and mess with objects/minds and can enter the void, but I think Will’s has something to do with his position in the party. Something more abstract, which we know is possible since Kali has powers totally different from El’s. His powers may even play into him being an artist.

We have already seen him using true sight, though I’d argue that it’s actually shadow walking or shadow step, an ability used by clerics in DnD to teleport in shadows (the upside down in this scenario). If he was just seeing flashes of the upside down, the mind flayer wouldn’t have been able to reach him. His soul was genuinely partly in the upside down. (It’s also why he was able to hide so well while down there- and why Jonathan said Will could hide anywhere to hopper in season one- clerics can naturally conceal themselves in shadows, so he could camouflage himself to the upside down better than most).

Will is, throughout the show, consistently being compared to his DnD classes (be that cleric or wizard depending on the characters POV or timeframe). I’d argue he’s paralleled to and called his DnD character more so than any other character, both in merch and onscreen. that’s important because his DnD character HAS POWERS (magic class user), and the duffers been spending all this time building up to the reveal of it in season five. you could say that’s purely coincidental, but if we call back to season two, Mike tells Max that Dustin is the bard, wills the cleric, lucas is the ranger, he’s the paladin, and that el is their MAGE.

mages are wizards. Wizards in DnD gain their powers through intense study and training (El spent her life in the lab dedicated to honing her powers with Papa) and clerics (Will) get their powers from a connection to some divine entity or dimension/creature (Aka the upside down) and whatever new powers Will gained he got from his overexposure to both the upside down and the mind flayer.

what’s interesting though is that even though Will is a cleric, Will calls HIMSELF a wizard, aka “Will the Wise” multiple times both in the show and in comics, and Mike is the one who’s still calling him the cleric.

This could mean that Will’s supernatural plot for season five COULD play into him being a multiclass, and having elements from both his cleric role with Mike and his own self-identifying role as a wizard play into his powers and association to Vecna.

Regardless, Will’s character (be it cleric or wizard) is associated with the light class. It’s why he can use fireballs and cast light spells (use the lights in the upside down). You know what Vecna is called in season four?

a dark wizard. Vecna is the character foil to Will’s (and El’s) light wizard. You know what wills character can cast? Fireballs! What hurts the upside down? Fire. Alongside that, Will clearly has a connection to the gates as well (hence interdimensional cleric powers), and I think it’ll have something to do with Vecna’s leaked line of Will being a builder with him. “We are going to do such beautiful things together, Will, such beautiful things…”

Vecna could need Will’s potential ability to bring the upside down fully into Hawkins, especially since he’s weakened. As we’ve seen in BTS photos, Hawkins hasn’t fully merged into the upside down yet. If the infection of Hawkins slowed to a near stop, Vecna will need Will’s ability to bleed the two worlds together (seen in season one when he nearly opened a gate in the wall of his home), and he’ll do that by trying to appeal himself to their shared experiences over being different, another nod to them being character foils.

(physical evidence of them being FOILs >> their identical drawings)

if henry’s appeal to their similarities doesn’t work, then that might be how a possession could come into play, and Vecna will try to turn Will into a puppet again if he refuses to become his secondhand.

And that’s what’s going to make Vecna fail. He’s going to underestimate Will’s support system. While they’re clearly two sides of the same coin and henry knows that, Will has love and support and family, whereas henry distanced himself from and killed everyone while under the influence of the flayers particles in his system.

That’s a big recurring theme in stranger things; that love conquers all. (Which could be how Will unlocks his powers in season five but that’s another story)

It’s how Max narrowly evaded her death time and time again- she both imagined her happiest moments with lucas and El and latched onto it. Will HAS that in Joyce, in Jonathan, in Dustin, in Lucas, in El, in Hopper, in Mike, but Vecna thinks he doesn’t, because WILL doesn’t think so either. At least not yet.

it’s glaringly obvious that despite being surrounded by people in seasons 2 and onward, Will feels terrifyingly alone. Nobody else has gone through what he has. He feels like he has no one in his corner, especially in season four when Mike pulled away. But part of his “coming of age” as the duffers called it for season five will most likely be his realization that he isn’t alone, that there’s people who unconditionally love and support him through it all, and I think that’ll tie into byler’s relationship blossoming too.

on a more legitimate analysis note, I’ve seen a lot of people comparing Will’s scream of “RUN!!!” to his scream of pain while possessed as the upside down was torched. But to me, I think it was more of a direct callback to when the mind flayer showed up and he yelled “GO AWAY!” Over and over before the possession took place.

But what’s new is the anger in Will’s scream. He could be getting possessed and telling his friends to save themselves, OR he’s fighting back against something while telling his friends to RUN. That’s will, retaliating against whatever he’s looking at above him. Fully surrendering himself to the danger rather than trying to make it disappear. He’s terrified, but also determined and so incredibly angry. (and his eyes are green, not brown like when he’s possessed) He’s not screaming for the monster to leave out of pure terror like his possession in season two, but actively fighting and intentionally putting himself in harms way.

It’s both a significant showing of his character growth and in my opinion a hint that he’s not being unwillingly possessed, but rather giving himself up as a target while someone escapes. A sacrifice. But logically, that only works if he’s important enough to be worthy of that much attention to Vecna. he has something valuable, or is at least significant enough of a threat to warrant that much distraction to save everyone else (him having powers). Honestly, I’m hoping his abilities tie into the creation of the upside down. It’s clear now that there’s a border on the edge of the pocket dimension, like a literal snapshot of Hawkins, and I think it’d be cool to tie in his position as an artist and cleric/wizard into the creation of the upside down alongside El and Henry’s contributions. Among other things, electrical/light centered powers and interdimensional travel powers seem more likely to happen but I think it would be dope to see how that plays out.

ANYWAYS I have more to say but I’m tired maybe I’ll post more later

[beanarie]

@bucktommywhumpweek days 2-3 ptsd, abandonment issues, following from day 1 here

Buck dreams of Bobby, because even when it's not about Bobby, it is, and that is why he's been spending as little time in bed as possible. Eventually, he opens his eyes, and recoils at the sound of an artificial shutter.

"Sorry!" he hears. "Maddie ordered me to text her when you woke up and this seemed like the most efficient way to give her the news."

Buck drags his eyes over to the visitor's chair, and the person he still expects to be sitting there vanishes. In his place is-

"Josh? What-"

"Hey, Buck," Josh says with a regretful smile. "Bobby's running a temperature, so Maddie asked me to come. How are you feeling?"

Buck should be used to it by now. That's his nephew; he hears his name all the time. But it makes him flinch all the same. He looks down at the bright white cast on his leg. This doesn't track. He was just expecting a boot. "Did I get admitted, for a fracture in my foot?"

"Yeah." Josh gives a sympathetic frown. "I was told you helped with an unruly patient and things got hairy when they went critical. You were unconscious for a while."

"Tommy?" Buck says, breathless.

"Do you, uh." Josh wiggles his phone. "Want me to call him? I don't have his number, but I could get it from Chimney. Or-"

"He's here," Buck says.

"Oh! That's funny. I didn't see him on my way in. So he what, grabbed something at the Panera downstairs? He's been gone a wh-"

"No, he's. He's-" Buck's throat is sealing shut. Tommy stopped breathing. There's a chance that as staff loaded Buck onto another gurney, a few feet away someone else was calling the time of death.

"Wait. Oh. Buck? Are you s..." His voice trails off. "Tommy was the other patient." Josh's eyes double in size. "Okay." He pats Buck's arm. "Listen. I'll see what I can find out."

"Th-Thanks."

Halfway to the door, Josh stops and turns his head. "What was his last name again?"

"Kinard."

He waves behind him. "Right. Got it."

Buck closes his eyes, opens them again, and Josh is back.

"So the news isn't great," he says, then he raises his hand. "Buck. He's alive. Sorry, I should've led with that. He was in respiratory arrest, but they reinflated his lung and put in a chest tube. He's now in the ICU."

"Y-You're not a family member. How did you-"

Josh scoffs. "Are you kidding? I'm the guy responsible for making sure they don't get slammed. Half the people in this building owe me a favor. The other half do, too, but I let them live in ignorance."

Buck scrambles for the control to his bed and raises it to a sitting position. "Can you help me get up to see him?"

Josh sits, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Can we talk about you for a second?"

Buck stops picking at the tape securing his IV. "W-What?"

"They told me you got a nice break in your lower tibia to go with the one in your metatarsal, so you passed out from the pain."

"Okay," Buck mutters, distantly registering that his time on the injured list just doubled. That's a problem for another day.

"You stayed out because you are exhausted and dehydrated. There are better ways to ask this, but I'll just go with a simple 'what happened'?"

Buck rubs at his forehead.

"Buck?"

"Bad dreams. I keep waking- waking up and I- I- I- have to get outta bed because if I don't, I go right back into it. So I've been working out a- a- lot, m-mostly in the middle of the night."

Josh looks like Buck just told him his puppy got cancer.

"It helps," Buck insists. "Sometimes I tire myself out enough that I go back to- back to sleep and don't dream. What else am I gonna do? It was working."

It's not like he could call anyone. Maddie and Chim have their hands full with the baby. Hen needs her rest almost as much as they do. He never bothered her if he could help it, anyway. And Eddie, Buck is trying not to ask Eddie for things. Partly to see if Eddie even notices, which he knows, he knows is not healthy. But he can't help it. Withdrawing with a smile seems to be the best of both worlds. No one has yelled at him in weeks.

Josh takes a breath, then closes his mouth and seems to rethink. "How bad have the headaches been?"

"Manageable," Buck mumbles. "I've been drinking a lot of triple-shot lattes."

"Putting your caffeine dependency on steroids is always a great way to deal with your head hurting," Josh says dryly.

Buck can't begin to address that right now. He was managing, as he said. "Am I on a hold, or c-can I go?"

Josh gives him that cancer-puppy look again. "No, Buck, you're not on a hold. I'm just concerned about you."

Which means Maddie will be concerned. Buck has no time for that. "Tommy almost died. Help me get to him, okay?"

[everythingne]

learning curve - cs55

williams is a new territory. his co-head engineers is an interesting idea, until he meets you, and learns of why he needs someone else on the radio.

haring impaired!williams engineer reader x carlos sainz

James was far too excited to have Carlos here so god damn early. But, as Carlos knew, the racing world didn't wait for anybody. Engineers dipped in and out of rooms, hands flicking as the spoke, heads nodding or shaking along with ideas or with procedures.

"And here," James grandly gestures to the small team that's working on installing Carlos' newly fitted seat into the shell of a car, "is team fifty-five."

A few heads pop up from his new mechanics, analysts, engineers, a few waves Carlos returns before James is bringing him to the side where a large computer is set up. Two people sitting at the screen. The man turns his head, smiling warmly in greeting as the person next to him--you, keeps her head down and scribbles some notes on a drawing of the car.

"This is YN, the one writing, and Luca. Both pulled in from Ferrari, from junior Engineers to senior. Figured a fresh start would be best for all of us until we can secure more full season contracts for your team." James explains and Carlos feels entrapped by you, watching the way your tongue darts out for a moment as you think, before your head goes right back down.

"Two head engineers?" Carlos asks softly, after shaking Luca's hand in greeting. James nods to Luca, and he turns and quickly taps the desk next to you, and you perk up and unplug your airbuds... or something similar.

"YN is hard of hearing, Luca's makes sure she doesn't miss anything. YN doesn't usually, and she'll understand you well as long as she can read your lips." James explains, and you nod.

"Don't be afraid to talk to me," You say, folding your hands in your lap, "Most people just ask Luca but he hates talking to people."

"I do." Luca nods, face red, "I'd rather be hiding. YN will speak to you on the pit wall. The board connects right to her hearing aids."

"Oh, thats really nice." He says and you nod, bursting into a explanation that has your face all bright and smiley and god damnit if it doesn't make his heart skip. After a moment, James pulls Carlos away, but your looks linger a little longer after that.

-

Two weeks in and Carlos knows some BSL. He practices to himself most nights in the hotel, signing over and over: drag, lift, broken, okay, the alphabet, basic letters, and the signs he's noticed you do for over and understeering. He doesn't need to know BSL to communicate with you, your hearing aids and lip reading have been working just fine for two weeks before testing days, but he figures it might be easier--and a nice little secret to have, on days where the garage is swimming with noise.

Alex has picked up more than he has, and while Carlos is a little envious at Alex's ability to just absorb, it's not like he's practicing sentences.

Which Carlos has been. Simple ones so far, but he finds it so enchanting when you and Luca go off on BSL tangents, the little secret code of your hand gestures and expressions so amazing to him.

Day one of testing is by far the longest day of your and Carlos' life. You both sit there pouring over data and models, running simulation after simulation while Carlos pokes at every level of information you have and questions it. Luca watches you both silently, noting the way Carlos hangs on your suggestions and you nod at his inputs.

Neither of you break for lunch, pushing aside the catered meals to look over more data from the rear wing. By the time the mechanics came back, you had a whole new wing plan. Same with dinner plans. But you're kicked out of the track by midnight, the last two people closing up shop, still talking about designs and new plans as you both stand next to each other from the second you leave to the second you get into the lobby of the hotel.

You bid Carlos goodnight, but read his lips as the batteries on your hearing aids are dangerously low.

Day two is the same. You and Carlos wake up excessively early, are the first ones there, but mid way through the day you notice something. Your hearing aids are fucking dead.

Carlos comes into the garage with a grin, chattering to you about something exciting, but his lips move so quickly and differently from British accented words you lose him.

Carlos blinks. Pause. And then nervously signs, 'fixed the understeer.'

You blink. Pause. And then break into a grin, whacking his arms.

"Good job." You say, though you aren't sure how loud, before holding up a finger for him to wait as you rush to your purse and dig out the back-up batteries. It takes a few seconds for you to find them in the bottom corner of the bag--but you pop them in and adjust the volume a bit before rushing back over.

"Sorry! They died!" You tap the hearing aids and Carlos nods, smiling to you with a little tilt of his head, "When did you learn to sign?"

Carlos' cheeks are a little red as he shrugs, "I don't know if I did it well, but I've been practicing for a bit. It's always so loud in here, I don't know how you hear everything."

You shrug, tilt your head, "You get used to picking out the important noises, it's not that much different from you."

Over the next few months, as you and Carlos adapt to the car and to the team, you find he's picked up more and more sign language. You idly teach him some in his spare time, words slowly drifting from racing notes to everyday phrases, to names for people across the tracks, to jokes. By Monaco, you've taught him enough for semi-fluency, and you don't know how he's managed to pick up a whole new language so quickly but you're not complaining.

It happens after Monaco quali. You're sitting on the floor of his drivers room while he's being stretched out post race, your hands moving idly along with your words as you speak, Carlos watching intently. There's been a shift, you note, and when Carlos' holds hand for you to pause, you do.

'Going to dinner tonight?' his signs are a little wobbly, but you get the gist.

'At the hotel, maybe.'

Carlos hesitates for probably a whole thirty seconds before, 'Want to go out? Only us two.'

'A date?'

'Yes.'

You blink. Then slap his hands with a loud laugh--Teto leaning his head back to look at you two from the other side of the room, the other various 55 members chuckling at the exchange.

'You learned sign just to ask that didn't you?' You keep the conversation silent, but the smirk on Carlos' face probably tells everyone what you're both conversing.

'Maybe.' His smirk doubles and you flush. Somehow, Carlos has done the most thoughtful thing, by doing the most basic thing at the same time.

general tag list:

@d3kstar @justalittlejess @tvdtw4ever @llando4norris @daemyratwst @piastri-fvx @sltwins @armystay89 @leclercdream

[c0wboylikeharry]

BROKEN ELEVATOR (h.s)

(masterlist) || (taglist)

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: after a late night at the office, harry expects to be the only one left. he’s surprised when he finds a single desk lamp still on—yours. leaving at the same time, the tense silence envelopes you during your elevator ride. but when the elevator breaks down, leaving you stranded with no way out, the tension crackles into something new.

word count: 8.3k

cw: smut, dirty talk, penetration, finger play, oral, overstimulation, unprotected sex

a/n: happy reading you freaks ;) this is my first like…full out smut so lmk what you think. i’m now going to go baptize myself in holy water.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

Groaning as I power down my desktop, my eyelids threaten to shut on their own accord. The darkness that I get basked between is one I relish in. A quiet, still office. No longer bombarded by ringing phones or an influx of emails. It’s done.

At least for today.

My eyes burn from the sting of staring at a screen all day, knowing these stupid blue light glasses my mother recommended can do nothing to save me at this point. I feel achy, as if I’d just finished with an intense workout, not just sat at a desk for 10 hours.

Forcing myself up from my chair, I stretch out my limbs, soothing the ache in my lower back. I don’t even bother to throw my suit jacket back on. There’s no point. I’m the only person who’s crazy enough to still be at the office. But work never ends when you own the company, I guess. Lord knows I’m just going home to lock myself in my home office for 3 more hours.

When I first started this company, I knew it’d be hard work and grueling hours. What I didn’t know is all that it would take from me. If you want a social life, don’t own a business. If you want stress free hours, even off the clock, don’t start a business. Hell, there isn’t even enough time—let alone enough energy in me anymore—to get laid

I think that one has me the most on edge.

Stomping around my spacious office, I gather my things and toss my jacket over my shoulder before cracking open the door. It feels like it’s been hours since I closed it, locked it, and told everyone to fuck off for the rest of the day so I could concentrate.

I guess one could say I’m notorious for being quite…cold in the office. I’m not a boss who’s shoulder is open to cry on when the job gets tough. I want the work done, and done well. Anything other than that is unacceptable. If I’m working hard, my employees have to be working 10x harder just to reach my level. I’m not going to apologize for that. And if they can’t handle that? Onwards and out they go.

Stepping out into the main space seems to calm me. All of the cubicles are left empty and lifeless, deserted hours ago right when the clock struck 5 pm.

Well, all except one.

Off in the far distance of the office floor, one lamp is still on. And it doesn’t surprise me. At least, not anymore. It’s become a constant. Almost a competition. Which one of us can stay later? Endure the back and eye pain, send the most emails, and log off the latest? But only one of us still does it with a smile on their face.

And that is not me.

You’ve been working here in the social media department for almost 3 years now. In fact, you sort of invented the department here. Before you, I couldn’t understand why a sex toy brand like mine needed a social media presence. But when you came in for an interview, for any old position here, you suggested the idea and changed the game. Taking charge, our sales grew an exponential amount from some simple online posts. You follow the trends, keep the business name in the headlines and put so much fucking money in my pockets.

I’m grateful for the work you do, but those words have never been shared with you. Like I said, I have an asshole reputation to uphold.

The minute I see the lamp at your desk flick off, my feet resume their trek toward the elevator. The only sound being my shoes thudding against the marble floors and the sounds of rustling as you pack up. And then it’s your heels, tapping to the same rhythm as my feet, heading in the same direction.

I’ve got no clue why, but I slow my pace.

We reach the elevator at the same time, but you’re the only one kind enough to flash me a smile in greeting. All I do is nod and press the call button for us.

The silence threatens to suffocate me, and I wonder if you’re feeling the tension too. That crackling, pin straight spine, choked out feeling in your chest. It’s consuming me. So much so that I nearly jump when the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

I motion for you to go ahead—I might be an asshole but I’m still a gentleman. Okay, maybe not that much of a gentleman because I’m unable to stop my eyes from dropping to the way your hips sway as you step in.

Starting a company as a man who has a weakness for women in pencil skirts wasn’t a good idea.

Snapping my gaze back up, I step into the elevator with you just before the doors close. A good few feet between us and nothing but the sound of the elevator engine accompanying us. I mentally pray this ride goes fast.

“Long day?” you’re the only one with the balls to break the silence.

“Mm,” I hum, “definitely.”

“Same here.” Your hands clasp together in front of you, an awkward stance to match the awkward energy. “I actually wanted to talk to you about—“

Your words get cut off by a loud screeching sound. It jolts the elevator, rattling us around until I have to hold myself still with the wall, and you catch onto my arm. The spike of adrenaline in my body forces me not to think about the contact. Lights flicker above our heads, but the movement stops. Like, all together. We’re no longer headed down to the parking garage. Hell, the button pad isn’t even lit up anymore! We’re just…stuck.

I instantly break into survival mode.

Wrenching myself from the wall and your hold, I slam my hand against the button pad, hoping anything will make this shit run again. But it’s no use. I press the alarm, hearing it ring out through the throngs of the building I know is empty at this hour. God, why can’t I just leave at 5 like a regular person? I try for the call button, listening to the automated message before it begins to ring. And ring. And ring. And—you get the picture. Not a soul picks up. In fact, the line’s static.

“Are we stuck?” your frail voice pulls me from my tunnel vision. You’ve glued yourself to the back wall of the confined space, fear etched onto your face with no will to leave.

“Please don’t tell me you’re claustrophobic,” is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.

“No, but I do have a fear of plummeting to my death!” In any other circumstance, I would’ve laughed.

“We aren’t going to plunge to our deaths,” I sigh, not even believing my own words. But someone has to keep their head on straight here. “It was storming today, lightning probably struck the power out. We just have to wait for the backup generator to kick in.” I walk over to the closed doors, assessing the possibilities.

“How long until that happens?”

“I don’t know!” My own fear makes me snap accidentally. “I make sex toys for a living!”

“We could be here all night…” you mutter, your voice sounding distant, but I’m too preoccupied to offer comfort or a second thought. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna pull the doors open, see if maybe we stalled on a floor, or at least enough floor for us to slip out onto.”

“You can’t possibly pull those doors open! They’re made of steel! And without the engines running, you’ll be pushing against the resistance of—“

With a major ego boost, your words die in your throat when I start to force the doors to separate. It makes an awful squeaking sound, but it’s working. It’s actually working! I mask my excitement easily, acting as if I knew I’d be able to do it all along.

But that excitement was too good to be true, a fleeting moment squashed like gum on the bottom of someone's shoe.

A wall. That’s all that’s to be seen. A fucking slab of concrete and no open air in sight. Fuck.

“Oh my god… We’re gonna die in here,” you practically cry.

“We’re not going to die.” Again, I have no idea, but I’m trying to convince myself my words are true. “Emergency services will be here soon.”

“What fucking emergency services?! We didn’t get through to anyone, no one else is in this building this late, and no one is coming to save us!” You sink down onto the floor, your back pressed against the metal wall. I can hear your labored breaths from here.

I might be known as the asshole around the office, but I’m not a completely heartless bastard. I see someone in distress, I offer a hand and support. Well, in some cases. And this is one of them.

I waltz over to you, sinking down in front of you and hesitantly placing my hands on your shaking knees, the ones you’ve pulled up against your chest. Your chin is tucked against your chest, hiding from the situation—hiding from me.

“Hey…” I think that’s the softest I’ve ever spoken. “Listen, we’re going to be just fine. Shit like this happens all the time and the cords hardly ever snap—“

“Hardly?!” Your head whips up, eyes puffy and red from withheld tears.

Shit. “Do you want me to lie to you?” You shake your head. “All I’m saying is that it’s a one in a million chance that we drop. And, hey, you don’t know? We could very well be just 10 feet from the ground floor and the only thing that would happen would be a small stomach drop.”

“I hate drop rides,” you whine, your bottom lip trembling in its pout.

This time, it’s my turn to drop my chin to my chest. “Jesus, you’re impossible.”

I maneuver myself until I’m slumped against the wall beside you, having given up on the whole ‘save the day’ act. Who knows how long we’ll be stuck here, I might as well get comfortable. An idea popping into my head has me mentally cursing myself for my stupidity, reaching into my pocket for my phone.

Of course, my phone! How could I not have thought of it sooner? All we have to do is just call someone to— Oh, and it’s dead. Yep. Dead as can be.

Fuck.

“Do you have your phone?” I grumble, peering over at you as you drag your head back out of its hiding place. “Check if you have service in here.”

“Oh my god, you’re a genius!” you gasp, scrambling to grab your phone from the purse you discarded when you thought we were freefalling. And I wouldn’t say the notion makes me a genius, actually quite the opposite since it took me so long to think of, but I’ll accept the stroke of my ego. When you snatch your phone, the screen illuminates your face in the flickering lighting. “It’s spotty, but it’s something. Oh, shoot, I’m on SOS… Wait! No, it’s ba—it’s gone again.”

Groaning, my head hits the metal wall, staring up at the matching metal ceiling. Damn, this place is cramped. Maybe I’m the one with claustrophobia?

“I can try to call 911 anyway? Isn’t that a thing? Like, your calls go through even without service?” you ask me like I’d have any clue.

“It’s worth a try.”

You sigh a smile as you tap around on your phone and hold it up to your ear. It’s so silent in here without the engines running, I can hear the dial tone.

“Hi! Hi! Yes!” Oh my god, it worked. Your hand juts out to slap against my bicep in your fit of joy. It’s hard to smother the smile growing on my own face. Especially when your hand settles to a stop, still resting on my arm. Now that the initial adrenaline is gone, I do have time to focus on the touch. “We're trapped in an elevator! Yes! No, the engines went down! I don’t know…20 minutes? No, no, none of it…”

I tune out your voice as you drabble on, giving out our location and any other useful information they need to come save us. It’s easy to do it when I’m instead so hyper focused on the contact of your hand on my body.

Like I said, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid. Now I’m like a prepubescent teenager who just brushed shoulders with a cute girl in the hall. It’s pathetic.

Somewhere in between my ogling and internal freakout, you had ended the call, and—to my dismay—moved to drop your hand back to your side.

“They said it might be a little, there’s some fire at a restaurant, but they’re coming!”

“Good… That’s really good,” my voice doesn’t even sound like my own, too stalled on the buzzing your touch has leftover on me to care.

This time, when you slump back against the wall, you aren’t on the verge of tears. I guess with just the promise of help on the way your mind has erased all possibilities of this huge metal box unhinging. Because in the time it takes for them to get here, it totally can’t happen, right? Wrong. But I won’t say that out loud. Dealing with you being a nervous wreck would have been worse than dealing with you in relief.

Even if it has you saying, “We should play truth or dare to pass the time.”

“Truth or dare? We aren’t 10.” I grimace at the thought, holding back an intense eyeroll.

“Come on! It’s just something to pass the time!”

“No, I’m not playing that ridiculous game.” I know I’m sounding like a complete ass—to which I’ve accepted I am—but I’ve gotta draw the line somewhere.

“Truth or dare, Harry?” you push.

“I told you, I’m not playing.”

“Truth or dare?” you repeat, pressing further. But if you press anymore, I might just cave in.

“No.”

“Fine, you can ask me first.”

I’m about to snap the elevator cords myself, but then I decide I can have some fun with this. “Truth or dare?”

Your eyes light up when the words leave my mouth, thinking you’ve finally won. “Hmm… Dare.”

“I dare you to not play this game.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” you whine like a child.

“Life’s not fair. Deal with it,” I retort.

“You can be a real asshole, you know that?” your words surprise me. Not the adjective you’ve used to describe me, but the way you so freely verbalized it.

Still, I find myself replying, “Yeah, I know.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you’re quick to apologize, the previous words probably slipping without your consent, “I didn’t mean to say that! That was so uncalled for and— Wait, did you say you know?”

I nod. “Yeah, I know. I know what you all say when you think I don’t hear. I’ve accepted this fact.”

“Harry, I’m—“

“Don’t apologize again. Really, it’s fine,” I cut you off, taking your words and rolling them off my shoulders.

“It’s not fine, it’s not,” you continue, and I can feel the guilt oozing off of you. “No one should be talked about like that, no matter the situation. And while I haven’t personally added to the email chain, I do apologize on everyone’s behalf.”

“Wait, wait—there’s an email chain?”

Even if the flickering lights gave out and basked us in darkness, I’d still be able to see how red your cheeks turn. “Shit,” you mutter.

A small laugh escapes my lips at your embarrassing slip up. The uncommon sound leaving my lips has a tentative smile growing on your lips, and the tension of your early admission slowly leaves your shoulders. Then the silence comes. A question of ‘where do we go from here?’ hangs in the air. It's slightly uncomfortable. After me being an asshole, you calling me out for being an asshole, and an oddly tender moment; there’s not much else to say. But not saying anything is worse.

Just when I’m about to succumb to my worst nightmares and reignite the game of Truth or Dare, your phone buzzes against the carpeted surface beneath us. At least it gives you an out from the suffocating silence, I think. Picking up your phone, I can’t help but study you closely—I’ve got nothing better to do. The screen casts a glow over you, and I watch as your eyebrows furrow. The tiniest of eye rolls and then you’re turning your phone upside down on the floor again. But you can’t escape whatever you were looking at—it buzzes again. The steps repeat five times over until you can’t fight the groan that leaves your lips.

“Everything good?” I can’t help myself from asking. My curiosity is piqued, sue me!

“It’s fine,” you mumble, clearly not fine. That sentiment is only set in stone when your phone buzzes again and you nearly toss it against the wall. It’s my interception that stops you from making the mistake.

My hand grips your wrist midair and yanks your phone from your hand before you can check it again. I don’t need you getting overly agitated and accidentally manifesting our plummet.

“Give me my phone back.” You reach out for it, but I pull it away, out of your reach. And, damn, the thing buzzes about 3 times in just this short time. “Harry, give me my phone.”

“Who’s blowing up your phone?” It’s really none of my business, but I’m a nosy bastard.

Wow, these confines are really making me realize all of my flaws.

“It’s no one,” you grumble, reaching out again. I hold your phone further up and out.

“Oh? So no one has you about to smash your phone against the elevator wall?”

“Harry, I’m serious,” you whine, once again reaching and failing. The repetition of your movements has you suddenly so much closer.

“So am I!” I laugh. “I don’t need your phone cracking against the wall just right and sending this metal box freefalling!”

“You said we weren’t going to die!” you gasp.

“We won’t,” I reply, “if you don’t go all crazy with rage and do something stupid.” You sigh and sit back on your knees, seemingly giving up on your fight. I don’t trust it. Proven right when you toss yourself forward and try to snatch it again—to no avail. “Is it a boyfriend? A girlfriend? A scammer trying to get you to become a princess of some made up country?” Your lack of laughter bruises me. I thought that was funny. “Or maybe it’s a crazy ex?”

Your lack of response is response enough. Shit. The realization that I’ve cracked the code has you flinging yourself again, but you take it a step further this time. Your whole body practically folds over me in your attempt, leaving your legs landing with one on either side of my hips. Instinctively, my hands fly out to stable you. Double shit.

You still. No longer in a rush to grab your phone back, no longer eager to see whatever’s on your screen, and probably no longer even breathing. I know I’m not. I’m too focused on the feel of your hips beneath my hands. I have to physically stop myself from squeezing your flesh.

I guess there’s no point in lying anymore—I find you ridiculously attractive. Always have. The second you walked into my office for an interview, I knew if I hired you, I’d be fucked. So I wasn’t going to. I entertained the interviewer for the sake of staring at a pretty face a little longer. But then you brought up the PR stuff and it all made so much sense and I realized… I was really fucked. So I went against my urges and hired you, forcing myself to delete any previous notions I had.

But now? Now those lines I drew for myself are blurring. Fading right before my eyes.

“I should…” you start, words trailing from the intense burning gaze I’m most likely sending your way.

“No… No, you shouldn’t.” I can only assume you were going to say you should get up, but I can’t let that happen. Not now. Not when I’ve finally got you in my arms.

“Harry…” The way you breathe my name sends a shiver down my spine.

“Don’t,” I warn, my grip on your hips growing tighter, keeping you in place. “You’re not going anywhere now.” Wide eyes stare back down at me, hesitant and confused. But my eyes can’t help but shamelessly roam your body, perched on top of mine like it was made to be. Your chest rises and falls quickly with your nervous breaths, right in front of my face. I feel like I’m hypnotized. “You look good like this,” the words fall from my tongue without a second thought.

“Harry—“ you try again, but I cut you off.

“Don’t… Don’t talk.” I grip you tighter, pulling you down slowly until you’re fully resting your weight against me. I push down the groan that threatens to spill. “Just let me look at you…”

“What are you doing?”

I ignore your question, letting my hands travel from your hips to the tops of your thighs, smoothing over the material of your skirt. This damn pencil skirt. The barely audible sound of your breath hitching in your throat sends a thrill through my bloodstream. “Is this okay?” I peer up at you through my eyelashes, my hands not stopping their actions of smoothing up and down your addictive thighs.

Your eyes connect with mine. Hesitancy, shock and…lust. I’ve got you right where I want you.

And when you nod, slowly and easily unnoticeable, I nearly snap right then and then.

The groan that’s been fighting its way up my throat is finally let free and I pull you flush against me. Your chest hits mine in a rushed movement, and your hands land on my shoulders to stabilize yourself. You’re so close. So close to me. I can smell the notes of your perfume, the scent of your shampoo, and I’m hooked. Releasing one hand from your hip, I grab your chin and angle your head down toward mine. Our noses nearly brush, that’s how close we are.

“This is a mistake,” I whisper, but you can hear each syllable perfectly, nodding in agreement. “You could be fired.” You nod again but don’t make any move to leave. “I could lose my business…”

“But?” you clue in, breath hitting my skin.

“But at least it’ll be worth it.”

And just like that, my lips are on yours. Groaning into the kiss like a man starved, my grip on you tightens to a bruising degree, pulling you impossibly closer. My tongue doesn’t waste any time in demanding entrance, tracing the seam of your lips and forcing its way in when you gasp. Hands. So many hands. Yours planted on my shoulders, slowly smoothing up to hold the sides of my neck. One of mine on your hips, dancing over your frame to press into your lower back and bring you closer, the other tangling in your hair to angle you just right. I can’t get enough. I’m not sure if it’ll ever be enough. Hissing out when your legs spread further, bunching your skirt to the top of your thighs, as your center presses against mine.

I pull back from the kiss, just barely, letting my lips brush over yours as I speak. “You know,” I strain the words, my voice heavy with lust, “I could think of a few better things we could do to pass the time, other than Truth or Dare.”

I feel your thighs tighten around my hips from my words, and it only serves to heighten my need for you. I drop my hands to your thighs away, feeling the bare skin under my fingertips as one of my hands travels higher and higher, disappearing under the tight material. “Do you want to pass the time with me?”

When my eyes and brain register your small nod, a smirk spreads on my face, giving me the green light to continue. Two hands. One gripping the top of your thigh and the other grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a searing kiss.

“Good girl,” I mumble against your mouth.

I hold you just where I want you as my lips leave yours and travel down your jaw instead, licking and nipping the skin in my descent to your neck. It’s all so addictive, so sweet. It’s still not enough. But when I find that sweet spot—a patch of skin just below the lobe of your ear—you moan breathlessly, and I think this might be just right. Shivering beneath my touch, my hand that’s under your skirt finds the waistband of your panties, feeling the delicate lace between the pads of my fingers.

“These are coming home with me.” I give the band a small tug, letting it snap back against your skin before pulling my hand away all together. Sliding my hands up your body, I pull your dress shirt from the hem of your skirt and tug on it. “Arms up for me, baby.”

Baby. Don’t know where that came from. But with the way it has you complying without another word, I know I won’t stop saying it. I toss your shirt to the side, my eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. So much of it. But your chest has me in a daze, hidden behind scrap material you call a bra. I can’t help the low moan that escapes me.

“You’re so beautiful,” I breathe the words, reaching to grip and knead at the skin of your waist. I can’t stop touching you. My hands are everywhere, feeling out your smooth, soft skin like it’s a drug. They eventually slip onto your back, tugging on the clasp that keeps you hidden from me. In one quick snap, the whole thing comes undone. The straps slide down your skin, revealing more and more of that perfect fucking skin. Absolutely perfect. This moment isn’t even one I could dream up. You, sitting bare chested on my lap with that needy yet hesitant look in your eyes. No, not even my dreams could be this good.

Leaving your waist, my hands cup your breasts, feeling their weight and fullness in my hands. My mouth is watering. My thumb runs over one of your nipples, watching it pebble harden under my gaze and touch. I’ve never seen anything so hypnotic. Eyes flicking up to latch onto yours, I watch for your reaction as I pinch the sensitive bud, teasing a shaky breath from you.

“You like that, don’t you?” My voice is low and husky as I continue to roll your nipple between my fingertips, forcing your back to arch. It puts your tits right in my face. I’m physically unable to stop myself from leaning forward and taking your other nipple between my lips. I moan at the taste of you, the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had gracing my tongue. Or maybe the sweetest thing is the whines that leave your lips when I swirl my tongue around you, hollowing my cheeks with a harsh suck.

I can’t stop. I literally can’t stop. Switching back and forth, showing each of your breasts the same attention until you’re relentlessly squirming on top of me. You are intoxicating. That’s the only way to describe it. I’m a lost man when it comes to you.

“So fucking good,” my words reverberate against your skin as I don’t let up on my attacks. Feeling your hands wind into the hair at the nape of my neck, you hold me close as I explore your body with my tongue.

A hand slides down your hips and thighs again, just to push right back up under your skirt. I yank the material up, forcing it to bunch at your waist, and leaving me with the perfect view of your lace panties. Sitting like this, with the crease of your hips over your thighs, dressed in barely anything; this is heaven. I’m sure of it. My thumb traces the seam, dipping into the crevice between your legs. Growing bolder, my thumb ghosts over your clit through your panties.

“Harry…” you whine, and it’s music to my ears.

“Tell me what you need, baby, and I’ll give it to you. Whatever you need,” the words tumble out of my mouth with no thought behind them, too focused on watching my finger disappear between your legs.

“You…” you breathe the word, shakily, “I need you.”

Well, fuck me.

My thumb presses down on your clit, still over the thin layer separating us, and your hips buck involuntarily. “Yeah? Is this what you need, baby? Need me to touch you?” You nod, helplessly, forcing friction from my unmoving thumb and your twitchy hips. “Words, baby. I need your words.”

“Y-yes! Yes…please.”

They were right when they said that was the magic word.

Finally giving you what you want, my thumb starts a lazy circular rhythm over your sensitive bud. The most delicious cries leave your lips every time I purposely add a bit more pressure. I can feel the heat radiating off your core, like a magic spell dragging my thumb down the seam of you to press against the mess you’ve made. The growing dampness I can feel through the fabric has my hips bucking up toward you. Your wetness seeps through your panties, making a mess on your inner thighs, and—damn—is it a sight to see. I cup you through the material, giving you something to find friction on while pressing against your clothed entrance with the tips of my fingers.

“You’re so wet,” I whisper, amazed, “so wet for me.”

You nod in response, unable to do much else than moan as you find your own pleasure against the skin of my hand. Well, that just won’t do.

I tug your panties to the side, exposing your soaking wet pussy to me. A shuddering moan escapes me as a gasp gets ripped from you. My gaze is burning into the perfect, glistening pink skin, and I think you can feel it too, grinding against the air. Staring up at you, your eyes are half-shut and glazed over, holding yourself stable with a firm grip on my shoulders. But everything in you trembles when I run a single finger through your folds, feeling how deliciously wet you are against my rough skin. Your eyes pinch shut, your hands gripping me like a vice, as a whimper tumbles out of you.

I trace your slit, dragging your mess up and down your core and lightly brushing against your clit. I push at your shoulders lightly, forcing you to lean back and give me a clearer view. Watching my fingers pull your lips apart and your entrance clench around nothing. Holy fuck.

The next time my fingers trace down you, I slip my middle finger inside. Your walls clamp down around the intruder, gripping my finger snugly.

“God, you’re tight,” I rasp, slowly pulling my finger out just to press it right back in. You’re a moaning mess above me, but I’m too focused on watching my finger disappear into you to even pay attention.

I drag my single finger out just to press back in with two. Your hips writhe against the feeling, but I don’t speed up. Keeping my tantalizingly slow pace of pushing in and pulling out.

“Harry, please…” you gasp out the words, forcing my attention to your face. That fucking face. Lips red and bruised, eyebrows scrunched together and jaw slack. You’re a sight for sore eyes.

“Please, what, baby?” I have to force the words to come out without a groan when your pussy clamps down on my fingers again.

You whine at my insistence. “Please… Harder. Faster.”

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” You nod, but this time I don’t beg for you to say it out loud. I’m on the verge of snapping. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”

I wrap an arm around your waist to hold you in place as I finally let my instincts take over. My fingers gain speed, thrusting in and out of you just how you wanted. The sounds of my fingers slamming against your wetness draws a dark moan from the back of my throat. I can’t pull my eyes away from your face. Watching as it screws up with pleasure, your moans filling the confined space.

“You feel so good,” I moan, curling my fingers inside of you. “Can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock.” I press against the spongy skin inside of you, stimulating it and watching you fall apart in my arms. It makes you grip onto my hair instead of my shoulders, dragging my face closer to your body. I take that as an invitation to wrap my lips around your nipple again, lapping and sucking until I can feel you teetering on the edge. “That’s it, baby. Let me make you come.”

I press my thumb against your clit and you cry out, arching your perfect tits into my face. I have half the mind to motorboat you. Instead, I change the angle. Slowly, I push off against the wall and guide you down to lay flat on your back. My fingers still slamming and twisting and fucking into you without remorse. With one hand to hold myself up by the side of your head, I continue to attack your breasts with my mouth, until you're covered in my marks. My lips travel down your sternum, licking a strip from the underside of your breasts to your belly button. I dip my tongue into the valley and you gasp, eyes snapping open to watch me. The cocky smirk that breaks out on my lips has your eyes threatening to roll back, but you fight it, I can tell. You want to see what I’m going to do next.

Planting hot, wet kisses down your pelvis, I make way between your legs. Meeting my fingers and their brutal pace, I replace my thumb on your clit with my tongue. Rising onto your forearms, you get a front row seat.

My eyes nearly cross at the taste of you, lapping up the sweetness that covers your core. My fingers repeatedly hit your g-spot as my lips suck your clit into my mouth. My unrestrained moan only brings you more pleasure.

“Harry! I’m gonna—ah!” you scream out as I feel your walls clench and tightly.

“Yeah?” I rasp between flicks of my tongue. “You’re gonna come on my fingers? Gonna come for me?”

You don’t have a second to respond between your gasps, moans, and whines. Hips bucking up against my face, I roll my fingers into you and swirl my tongue around your clit. I can pinpoint the exact millisecond your orgasm rips through you.

Screaming out my name, your hands land in my hair and tug, body trembling against the floor. I flatten my tongue against you and let you ride out the waves against it, my fingers slowing their assault before pulling out all together. Tossing your thighs over my shoulders, I finally dive in for a real taste.

You cry from the overstimulation, feeling my tongue lapping up every last drop of your release. I eat you like you’re the last drops of water and I’m stranded in the desert, moaning every time your taste hits my tongue. I can’t stop. Not even to take a breath or give you a second to come down. My tongue plunges into you and I’m certain I could die a happy man right here right now. With you squirming and begging for a second to catch up, and my hands squeezing your flesh anywhere I can get my hands on.

I don’t even notice that I’ve been grinding my hips against the floor until a strained moan hits your core. I need to make you come again. I need it like I need oxygen. And that rubber band holding of restraint that was once holding me back has obliterated into dust.

I nuzzle my face feverishly against your core, rubbing my nose against your clit as my tongue loses sanity against your perfect pussy. My own hardness is so painful, straining against the material of my slacks. I can’t help myself from reaching down to unzip my pants and palming myself over my boxers.

I lift your hips in the air to dive deeper, taking every piece of your resolve with me.

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere, tensing your frame as your hips grind against my awaiting face. I lap up your juices, my mind failing me at the intensity of it all.

I need more.

Finally getting a breath, I pull my face from between your legs, my lips and chin glistening from you. I don’t plan on ever wiping it off. Your legs flop back onto the floor, like a ragdoll.

“God, you’re perfect,” I speak mindlessly as I sit back on my knees, reaching for the buttons of my shirt. I’m burning up. You lay on your back panting, eyes dazedly watching me. “You okay?” I check.

You nod, a slow, lazy smile growing on your face. You’re completely spent and I’ve barely even begun.

“Good…” I toss my shirt to the side, leaving me bare chested in front of you. I don’t miss the way your eyes trail down my skin, burning a map on your journey. I lean over you, my face hovering over yours just inches away. Close enough for you to feel my breath hit your face when I say, “Because I’m about to bury my cock so deep in your perfect, little pussy.”

One of my fingers sliding through your folds emphasizes my words, making you gasp. I grab your hips and lift them off the ground, making our centers connect. Rubbing my boxer-clad bulge against you, you mewl. “You have no idea how badly I need to be inside of you right now,” I grunt, snapping my hips against yours. “Do you want that, baby? You want me deep inside of you?” You nod, but this time I demand words. I need to hear you say it. “Say it.”

“I want it,” you gasp. “I want it! Please!”

My hips snap again. “What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

“I want you… Deep inside of me,” the words finally break free from your lips, just as a groan leaves mine.

I’m immediately fumbling with my pants, yanking them down my legs and kicking them off not so sexily. You don’t seem to notice though, if anything you’re the opposite of shuddered by my fumbling. You just squirm and writhe, begging for my attention again. Fuck. My boxers are the next to go, joining the heap of clothes we’ve created in the corner of this small space. But when you go to sit up and peel your skirt off your body, I reach out and stop you. Your eyes look up at me, confused.

“That’s staying on,” I murmur, eyes trained on the bunched material covering the tops of your hips and your waist.

Those fucking pencil skirts.

You comply, laying back down and finally letting your eyes trail over me. From the top of my hair, to the swell of my thighs straining to keep me upright. Though your attention does seem to focus more on my throbbing cock that stands at attention for you.

I grab your legs and wrap them around my waist, forcing your hips to raise and meet mine. Our moans harmonize when my length nestles between your folds. I’m unable to stop my rocking hips. Your own hips meet my lazy strides, causing a ripple of pleasure to shockwave through me.

I pull back slightly and grab the base of my cock, stroking myself a few times as I bring my tip against your folds. I’m leaking precum against you, my jaw slack as I run myself through your drenched core.

“Harry, please,” you beg, your voice needy and desperate.

I don’t tear my eyes away from your center. “Please what, baby?” I slap the head of my cock against your clit, watching you jump and squirm in surprise.

“Please… Fuck me.”

“Yeah?” I drag myself to your entrance, just barely pressing in but already feeling your warmth envelop me. It takes all my strength to hold back. “You want me to fuck this tight, little cunt?”

I push just my tip inside, gnawing down on my bottom lip to keep my composure, but you’re not so slick. “Y-yes! Yes! Please!”

Your walls are so tight around me, I could finish right now. Squeezing me and begging for more. I don’t have the self control to tease you anymore. Not when your body so clearly needs this—needs me.

I don’t waste anymore time, thrusting inside of you and filling you completely in one swift motion. One strangled gasp from you and a guttural moan from me. Nails biting into my shoulders as I stretch you open, unwarranted sounds spilling from me as your pussy flutters around me.

My head falls back in pleasure. “Fuck,” I sigh. “You feel so good.”

I adjust my grip, holding your thighs wrapped around me as I slowly pull back out. You whimper, but it’s cut off with a moan when I slam my hips back against yours. I don’t start slow, there’s no point. Not when my body is screaming at me to just take you. Claim you. With a vice grip on you, I continue my relentless pace, ramming my length into you. Your moans are unrestrained now, bouncing off the steel walls and mixing with the sounds of our skin slapping together.

“So tight,” I grunt, my teeth clenched. “So good.”

My hands are frenzied. Smoothing over your skin and gripping anywhere I can get a handle on. I steady my hips as I latch onto yours, using the leverage to move your hips for you. I drag you on and off my cock, watching it disappear into your wet hold. Using you like a toy for my pleasure, I pick up the pace and force your hips to slam against mine. The small rolls you do on your own have me feeling mental. Nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing will ever feel like this again.

And it’s taken to the next level when you use your abdomen to pull yourself up, sending me back onto my calves. Your hands grip my shoulders as you settle into a perch on my lap, grinding your hips against mine. Taking control. Dammit, you’re sexy.

“Yeah?” I pant. “Taking what’s yours, huh? Using me to get off?”

You don’t respond with words, but you do let your lips do the talking. Bending down, your lips attach to mine in a sloppy kiss. It’s hard when pants and moans are constantly spilling, but I swallow every sound you make. Your hands slip to my chest and push me backwards, landing me flat on my back and mirroring your previous position. My length falls out of you from the change of angle, but you’re quick to fix your mistake.

Wrapping your hand around my cock, it twitches from the contact. As you move to hover over my lap again, you stroke me lazily, and my hands grab your hips. When I feel you dragging me through your dripping folds, my head falls back and my eyes roll. Not giving me a chance to breathe before you sink down onto me again.

You stable yourself with both hands on my chest, burning my skin with your dangerous touch. Hips sliding and grinding against mine, you’re much softer with your movements. But, dammit, if it doesn’t have me losing my mind just the same. I reach behind you, grabbing a handful of that perfect ass I’ve shamelessly stared at far too many times. It feels so much better to have it in my hands. So much so, my other hand has to join it. Groping both of your cheeks, I guide your movements over me, setting a pace that fulfills both of our needs.

When your hips rise and fall over me, I hiss and squeeze your plump skin tighter. So you do it again. And again. And again, until I’m not controlling the pathetic sounds that leave my mouth. You bounce and grind with a practiced ease, taking the pleasure you need from me.

“You like bouncing on my cock, baby?” A sly smile grows on your lips and you speed up. “Damn right you do.” I smack your ass.

To my—very pleasant—surprise, it rips a harsh moan from your lips. Noted. Sitting up straighter, you bounce on me without caring about the burn I’m sure you’re feeling in your thighs. So I slap your ass again. It has your movements faltering.

“Does my baby like to be spanked, huh?” You nod breathlessly as I continue to smack and palm your ass. It fits so nicely in my hands, I can’t resist. But the pleasure you’re finding from it is slowing you down, losing your rhythm.

So I take control again.

Planting my feet on the floor, I push up until my knees are pointed in the air. Grabbing onto your hips, I still your movements and hold you right where I need you. Then I go to town.

I thrust up into you with a brutal force, wrenching a scream from deep in your soul. Your top half falls forward, nearly collapsing on top of me. Grunts and moans leave my lips without permission as you barely hold yourself together. This new angle is deep and rough, hitting all the right places inside of you and making you clamp down onto me with a vice grip.

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” I groan. “You’re taking my cock so well. Fucking perfect… So fucking tight,” I grit the words out. And when your hips start to grind against my thrusts, I stare down at the edge of my pleasure. “Shit! You’re so hot…”

Faces mere inches apart, we swap oxygen between our labored pants and needy moans. I grab the back of your neck and pull your lips to meet mine. A heated kiss, moving hungrily against one another, tasting and devouring each other as we move together. I grip your hip tighter with my hand, snapping my hips up to meet yours. Your movements grow frantic, more wild, as you chase your pleasure down. I can feel your body tensing in my hold, feel you fluttering and squeezing around me, knowing you’re getting closer.

“That’s it…” I encourage, nuzzling my face in your neck and letting my hand fall back to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock.”

I grind my hips up into yours, repeatedly hitting that spot that has you crying out my name over and over again. Your body starts to shake, breathing turning erratic.

“Oh God, oh God—don’t stop!” you whine and pant and make me nearly lose my mind.

I grunt with a particular deep thrust. “I’m not gonna stop, baby.”

Whines and whimpers are your only form of communication at this point, a silent plea. Your body tenses, coils up so tight it might just send me over the edge too. And when a long, low moan falls from your lips, your body stills as you peak. I hold you tight, feeling your body tremble in my arms. Your pussy clenches so hard around me, threatening to push me out all together. I don’t let up on my thrusts, seeing the bright white light of pleasure coming for me. Your whines or sensitivity only spur me on.

“Fuck, yes, baby… So good. Come all over me. You’re perfect. So fucking good and tight. Gonna make me come so hard in that perfect cunt of yours,” the thoughtless mumbles pour out of my mouth.

“Harry, please…” I know that you’re begging for my release, feeling me slide in and out of your core.

“Almost there, baby, just—fuck!” I gasp when your walls clench around me again. “God, do that again.”

So you do. You do it over and over until my hips grow sloppy and my uneven breaths threaten to make me pass out. I’m gritting my teeth, gripping your hips, and desperately reaching for the climax that I know will ruin anyone else for me.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come! I’m gonna fill you up, baby!” I scream out the words, hips snapping uncoordinatedly up into yours. “Shit! Fuck! Yes!”

With one sensitive roll of your hips, it’s game over for me.

I gasp and choke out a moan as my hips come to an abrupt halt. My jaw hangs like it’s detached from my body all together, panting into the open air. Feeling myself spilling into you, you whimper in encouragement. And then we both go limp.

My hands fall from your hips and down to my sides and you essentially collapse onto my chest. Rising with every heavy inhale I take, I welcome your weight on me, bringing me back down to earth.

Back down to this broken elevator.

Shit, I almost forgot the situation we were in.

I reach up and run a hand through your sweat lined hair, basking in the stillness of this moment. You hum against me, the sound rattling the blood in my veins, and pushing me to continue.

This right here is peace.

“Fire Department! We’re gonna work on getting you guys out of there!”

Scratch that. This is hell.

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taglist: @tpwkmr @alex-voiddome @hsviorry @butdaddyiloveh1m

[universalzones]

"The fuck does it matter if I speak my mind or tell my story? Even with the whole Phantom Rider crap a lot of people still doubted me. All people will see is G.U.N arresting a criminal that should've been locked up after tearing through a town and hurt people." Surge wasn't even going to mention how easily G.U.N could pump out any number of stories they wanted and still seem believable.

"Yeah, I'm with sparky here. My goal is to call G.U.N out for their crap, though my younger sister wanted me to put in a good word for the spiky electric hero," he said crossing his arms not intimated by Surge's threat. "Ain't the force time I've been threatened and it won't be the last since I'm sure G.U.N will put me on there list of reporters they don't like. Also, I just run online forums. Not legit recording equipment or anything."

Surge squints her eyes at the canine, slowly connecting the dots. "You're related to the squirt I met at the festival after I first sent the Phantom Rider high tailing it out of here. What do you actually get out of this? Cause I ain't buying you're doing this just for your sister," the tenrec said crossing her arms. "And call me sparky again and you'll need your jaw wired shut to heal."

"Hey, I put G.U.N to the fire all the time in my forums, this is just the latest story. Though I guess I don't fully trust G.U.N like everyone else so them having a super weapon like you is something I'd like to bring to people's attention. As long as I get my story out it'll spread. Hopefully large scale station's will start being up G.U.N's case." A simple goal, though one that reached will make G.U.N tread carefully.

===========================================================

Kitsunami looked down at the offered hand with clear distain. "I can keep up on my own." The fennec had made many more modifications to his pack so could go much longer distance's without having to refill it in order not to slow Surge down. Without Starline getting in his way he could made more practical upgrades to his pack and actual improvements. Of course he knew the reason why Starline always prevented him from doing such a thing. He didn't want him to have too much power or start thinking on his own. With that said he dashed off after Sonic.

"Just so you know this doesn't makes us friends. I still don't trust you, even if you didn't intentional mean to lie about Surge not making it." Seems Kitsunami was still holding a bit of a grudge about that incident, even if he was aware that Sonic truly believed Surge didn't make it out alive. Though maybe he was trying to convince himself more than anything else. Trying to reject the kindness that the hedgehog showed him when he was at his lowest point, when he was more concerned about Surge than trying to stop her, and that fact he keeps extending a helping hand rather than wishing to see them locked up.

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"Those are fair points, though not just anyone can do what Starline or Shadow's creator did. If so we'd see far more people with those abilities. Speaking as one who such abilities it's rather... complicated. I'm sure you of all people know how complex the power one wields can be fighting such foes of the years and simply seeing Sonic in action. I don't wish to imply I'm down playing your concerns, though it's an amazing feat to create someone with such power abilities." This was just Blaze's honest opinion.

"Though I have no intention of ignoring such logical reasoning and concerns. At this point I believe we must take every piece of information with, how they say, a grain of salt. I hope that is the correct expression." Expressions wasn't the feline's strong suit quite yet. "For now let us just hope that they can't recreate any of Starline's work without all the needed piece's, and do our best to keep those piece's out of their hands." The princess didn't intend to roll over and let them have their way after all.

"Perhaps we should wait until we're at a more secure location. Maybe Miles lab as I can't think of anywhere more secure than that." Belle doubts the entirety of G.U.N could get into his lab if Miles didn't want anyone in, not to mention how secure his network must be. Belle-Bot wasn't connected to any network fully so the risk of it getting hacked into was low, though she still hadn't fully finished the firewall to prevent hacking. She hadn't even given the bot a proper field test though things were intense moments ago.

The sheep seemed to glance to one side as if everything Surge said she mostly agreed with. Or maybe had already been discussed in private. It was very clear what GUN was up to and yet there was almost nothing they could do to stop this. Gun was powerful politically and, though they had come to a tenuous agreement she had a feeling it wouldn't last. How long before they targeted Kit? or maybe they didn't think he was a big enough threat to even bother with?

" That's already been talked about to some degree. But short of an all out war between GUN and Restoration... i'm not sure we could find a peaceful way to stop them. The best solution was handing you over... and none of us like that much either. The best we could do was protect Belle and Kitsunami... "

She clenched her fists and her body language spoke of just how much she hated this. no matter what Surge felt, she very much had grown to feel as if Surge were part of the team. More then that... she was just starting to break that ice and maybe become friends and now this.

" Which is why i think we need to have eyes on both of them... i know Belle is already thinking of running off. I think its best if both of them lay low for awhile till we figure this all out...its just... this still feels like we are losing this battle..."

She fidgeted but snapped her trap shut once she saw the reporter. How did he even get up here and she hoped he didn't hear anything she said. She sighed crossing her arms as he rambled on to probably the worst person on base. Yea if she were Surge she'd jack slap him to! She pinched the bridge of her nose as any good PR was going to help them in the long run.

" Well... he is a Reporter Surge, if you ever wanted to speak your peace to the world... now is the time. But try to keep it PG... and remember anything you say can and WILL be used against you... so choose your words very carefully..."

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Sonic placed his hands behind his head and watched the Fennec join them though, he seemed ready to split. He sure was pissed wasn't he? Not that he blamed him, truthfully Sonic was on his last nerve with GUN to. Still looked like the kid harbored alot of animosity toward him maybe just left over bits of Starlines fuckery or maybe he was just bitter about this whole situation.

Sonic checked his phone and flicked his thumber across the screen to the map location Surge had given him. He sighed a bit as he hated the idea of leaving Surge right now--- but she was right he made a promise it was time to keep it.

" Yep, she gave me a location and made me promise to take you there--- and i'm a hog of my word! just think of me as a taxi... i'll drop you off and the rest is on you bud... Alright Surge Kitsunami and i are gonzo... stay safe... ok? "

He held a hand out for Kitsunami to take so they could take off. He didn't think it was a good idea to grab the kid without his say so or he could lose an arm! or get bit! either way once Kit grabbed on he disappeared in a flash of motion and crack like thunder! He didn't think it would take him long to reach that location... then he needed to link up with tails and plan there next move.

===============================================

Miles had been sitting and mulling over the situation as it had so man angles to consider. But his eyes shifted to Blaze as she spoke and he seemed to sink further into his thoughts. He couldn't disagree more with her on many fronts. Sonic and His DNA especially was easy enough to come by due to all there extended battles within the city and beyond. Every injury they took and every drop of blood could easily have been collected by GUN over the years--- but far more importantly... they didn't need it as they had something far more potent to use.

" I know i say i'm the smartest mobian alive ... but let's be real here. Before Starline came along none of us would have imagined anyone on his intellectual level. Eggman might have expanded his horizons... but he was already a genius of exceptional levels before that. To imagine that GUN doesn't have someone of that level working for them is foolish--- why go and do any of this if you didn't have the ability to finish your goal. They might be brash but GUN has never been fools..."

He stated in a very calm manner as he swished his tails behind him in a very agitated way. He was clearly upset with this situation and wished like Sonic to pummel gun to dust! But unlike Sonic he understood how awful that would look... they were the good guys after all they had to follow the rules.

" As for Sonic's DNA or mine or any of those who fight Eggman on the regular. We all take our lumps... a drop of blood, a chunk of fur, a lost quill... its very common for that to happen to us. If Thawn is as devious as he appears... he might have enough stored DNA to last him a life time--- but he doesn't even need that. Do you know what he has butt loads of? Black Arms DNA... they gathered up all those bodies all those years ago and even before that they had shadow trapped for YEARS and took who knows how many samples... "

" If GUN's aim is to create some super solider... they have the resources ...question isn't if they can but when... and what there ultimate intent is... i won't sugar coat it Blaze, it's not great... and things could turn very quickly in GUNS favor. Only thing we have going for us is that i had the foresight to lock all of starlines notes in my personal vaults... so even if they wanted to, they would be starting from scratch. so we... have time... if nothing else "

Jewel buzzed her wings landing next to Belle and opted to focus on things she was more willing and able to handle. Fighting GUN felt like a battle for sonic and tails not restoration. Choose your battles Jewel! choose your battles!

" Yes... they helped us on several join ventures. I put all of them in a single file to keep things organized. But also because i never trusted the man... so at the very least we should be able to scour the files and see what he was actually up to. I'm more worried they will try to pin this all on restoration... or worse Eggman will use all of this distraction to strike while we are divided..."

She sighed softly as she stared at Belle

" But one battle at a time Belle... we can start scouring that data and assess the damage he did. I still feel foolish for not realizing what he was up to... in a way... this is all my fault..."