#i don’t even mean boxers - i mean briefs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

igbylicious · 8 months

Text

knockout [woosan x reader]

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, boxer au, friends with benefits

summary: Wooyoung invites you over to play after San wins his latest match.

wc: 3.9k

warnings: boxer San, manager Wooyoung, threesome, consensual somnophilia (San is the one asleep), blow job, hand job, spit kink, face-sitting, cunnilingus, face-fucking, choking on cock, cumplay (eating and sharing), dirty talk, San has bruises, they use the pet names ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’ for you but no pronouns, reader wears a dress, established Woosan, San is whiny while he sleeps but gets cocky when awake, Wooyoung is a mischievous lil’ shit (affectionate) the whole way through

a/n: my first ateez fic! please consider a like/reblog if you like it (❁´◡`❁)

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

Your phone buzzes late at night, and you already know who it is before looking. You tear yourself away from the TV and check your messages, where you find a selfie from Wooyoung.

His hair is getting longer, pushed back with sunglasses resting on top of his head. (Even though it’s already dark out. Poser.) He wears a black-and-white shirt with a busy pattern and just one button too many undone, a heavy silver necklace around his neck. But all of that is just a sideshow to the main point of the selfie; Wooyoung is winking cheekily at the camera, holding up a big wad of cash. San won the match.

does this mean takeout is on you guys next time? you text him. After a brief pause you add, also congratulations i guess

(But the dismissive tone is just for show, riling each other up a natural part of your relationship with Wooyoung. You’re smiling as you press send, knowing how much a win means to him and San, how hard they work for it.)

Your phone buzzes again. you should come over

for takeout?

idk about takeout but there’s definitely a meal in it for you 😏😜😘🍆💦

You can’t decide whether to grin or roll your eyes at the message and its string of emojis at the end, but you do send Wooyoung an affirmative text back. Your face decides on a grin as you put your phone down, a spark of excitement coursing through you. Guess you’re going out tonight after all.

This thing between you and San and Wooyoung has been going on long enough that usually you don’t even bother dressing up for them anymore, but hey, it’s a special occasion, right? So you slip on some lacy panties and wiggle into a cute dress, and do a quick check in the mirror to make sure you’re looking at least halfway decent. (Not too much fuss. Wooyoung did text you in the middle of the night.)

Just before you go, your phone buzzes one last time; Wooyoung warns you to send a text once you get to the apartment, not ring the door. At first you do not give it too much thought; they do live in a crappy old place, might just be that the doorbell is broken.

But then the added photo loads, and you see San is conked out on the couch, sitting with spread legs and his head lolled back, mouth slightly hanging open. Apparently he hasn’t even changed clothes since the match, wearing a dirty white tank top and a smattering of bruises across his tanned skin. His dark hair is a mess, pretty lips set in a natural pout while he sleeps.

Immediately, a fresh buzz of excitement surges through you. There is a whole new layer of thrill to this invitation now.

After driving over, you send Wooyoung a text that you’ve arrived. He opens the door for you with a bright grin, and puts a quick finger to his lips to indicate you have to be quiet. His sunglasses have disappeared somewhere between making a selfie and your arrival, saving him a roasting from you. He gives your dress an appreciative once-over, and casually kisses your cheek as he lets you in, resting his hand on the small of your back. His good mood is incredibly obvious, fingers brushing against the top of your ass.

You slip off your shoes and step further into the apartment. The place is a bit messy as always, furnished with a combo of thrift-shop finds, stuff they won off bets, and random things donated by friends. (Even their old van is a hand-me-down, though you have no idea where they got it from.)

The result is a home that’s chaotic, but friendly. Shelves piled with keepsakes, stories attached to everything they own. And for all the messiness, at least they do keep it somewhat clean.

There is a desk in the corner, with a few neat piles of paper money on top. Clearly Wooyoung was in the middle of counting — and accounting, his books laying open with a pen next to them. Despite all his antics, Wooyoung is actually pretty responsible with money. He knows that he needs to be, never sure when they’ll get their next win. (You suspect they run a few less-than-legal stints on the side, but neither seems too keen on making that their main gig.)

And then there is San, sitting on their old couch. Still fast asleep.

“Look how tired,” Wooyoung murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “He worked so hard today, I thought we should reward him. How about it, hm? Don’t you think he deserves a prize for taking home the victory?”

You lick your lips, a sharp craving growing in the pit of your stomach at the sight of San’s soft, sleeping face. As far as you are concerned, you are the one getting a prize here. It’s been a long time since you last had the chance to indulge in this particular kink; it can be tricky to coordinate when you don’t actually live in the same house.

And San makes such pretty noises when he’s asleep.

Wooyoung grins at the expression on your face. “Good girl,” he whispers indulgently, pressing one last kiss on your cheek before he playfully slaps your ass, pushing you towards the couch.

You glare back at him, even if the slap sent a crackle of pleasure through you. Just out of principle, to let Wooyoung know he can’t get away with everything. (He can absolutely get away with everything.)

But then you shift your focus to San, getting on your knees in front of him as quietly as possible. He usually is a deep sleeper but still, you are not about to risk waking him too early. You do take a moment to just look at him; to take in the way his broad chest moves with slow, even breaths.

The hard, battered muscles of his body are completely relaxed now, arms laying uselessly on the couch. There are marks on his knuckles, and it’s odd to think he was using those same fists to beat someone up, all for a cash prize, just a mere few hours ago. He looks so soft now. Not for the first time, you marvel at how handsome he is, the sharp cut of his jawline, pronounced cheekbones and pouty lips. So damn gorgeous, even with bruises marring his face, a particularly nasty one on the corner of his mouth. You want to kiss it, but you tuck that thought away for later.

San’s legs are already conveniently spread for you to shuffle close; could be a happy coincidence, could be that San was expecting this. Expecting you.

(This was a conversation you had long ago, where he’d given you a free pass to ‘wake’ him if an opportunity presented itself. It is entirely possible that he and Wooyoung discussed this before contacting you, and something about the idea of San falling asleep while thinking of your mouth on his dick makes you squirm in the best way.)

You press a hand against the front of his sweats, feeling the outline of his cock. You squeeze it with a light touch, give the impressive length a gentle stroke, and delight at the little “Hmm” that San sighs out.

Encouraged by the sound, you pull down the waistband of San’s sweats just enough so you can take his cock out, heavy in your hand. Still soft, though he gives a beautiful twitch when your thumb runs across a vein across the underside.

Your eyes glance up when Wooyoung sits down, just as carefully as you had been. He is slouched next to San with an arm slung across the back of the couch, fingers ghosting against San’s hair but never touching, while he raises his other hand to bite at his thumb. Uncharacteristically quiet, watching with rapt attention.

Heat pools between your thighs, you love being on display for him, teasing a sleeping San. You’re keenly aware of how your dress has ridden up, your ass sticking out, your neckline low enough for an ample view of your cleavage — though you’re sure it’s your hand that has Wooyoung’s full attention right now, wrapped around his lover’s slowly hardening dick.

You gather saliva in your mouth, then let it dribble down on your fingers and San’s cock. He moans, shifting slightly, lips parting a little wider as you take advantage of the easier slide of your palm. The sound goes right to your core; San’s moans are just a bit shallower when he is asleep, a bit more high-pitched. More needy.

More noises start to slip from his lips as you slowly stroke the length of his thick cock, thumb playing against his slit. Sometimes his hips shift to follow your movement, but he does not wake, his conscious mind unaware of your fist working him to full hardness.

San is getting beautifully flushed, a redness blooming across his cheeks and neck as he lets out a faint whimper, brow furrowed. It is always a fun game, to see how far you can take him before he wakes up — before you are treated to that toe-curling moment of aroused disorientation on San’s face, that split-second where he can’t quite figure out why he is so fucking horny until he sees you, nested between his thighs, and a sleepy yet cocky grin breaks out on his face.

But it’s not come so far yet; San is still under the hold of his tired slumber. His breath hitches as your fist twists around the head of his cock, almost like a little hiccup, precum mingling with your spit. You know you can’t hold off your impatience for much longer.

Wooyoung is still staring, though his eyes wander between San’s cock and the wiggle of your ass, his cheeky tongue dipping out to wet his lips. His gaze is heated, intense, and the slight asymmetry of his eyelids makes his stare only more attractive and striking, dotted by the little mole under his eye. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he watches, but grins when he catches you watching him in turn. He leans forward, elbow on his knees, and beckons for you to offer your hand.

You do so, and watch how Wooyoung decadently works his mouth and lets a thick globule of spit fall past his lips, onto your waiting palm. His grin widens when you moan weakly as his saliva mingles with yours, with San’s precum, and generously gives you more until your hand is messy and slick. Finally satisfied, Wooyoung leans back with a flirty wink.

You make good use of Wooyoung’s ‘contribution’, pumping San just a little faster now. His noises start to pick up, face contorted with unaware pleasure as a small trail of drool escapes the corner of his mouth. It won’t be long now before he wakes. Honestly, you are surprised it has lasted this long at all; San’s fight must have been particularly strenuous tonight.

Just when you contemplate whether it’s time to get your tongue involved, Wooyoung suddenly gets up from the couch.

You try not to get distracted by him moving around behind you, keeping your focus on San, but then you feel a little tap against your ass. You turn your head to see him lying on his back, head between your feet with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Lift your ass up, he mouths and gestures simultaneously.

You do exactly that, allowing Wooyoung to slide under you with his hands on your waist, his face right underneath the flimsy scrap of lace that covers your dripping core, barely worth the name ‘underwear’. “Seriously?” you whisper, though even just the sight of him, raised eyebrow and ready to eat you out, has more arousal leaking into your panties.

“Hey, San isn’t the only one who worked hard for this match,” Wooyoung whispers quietly, wetting his lips. “Don’t I deserve a reward, too?”

Well… If Wooyoung’s idea of a reward is to have you ride his face, then who are you to deny him? You really keep getting the better deal out of their hard-earned victory. Still, you roll your eyes at him, just to let him know how ridiculous you think he’s being, though the increasingly damp spot on your underwear tells Wooyoung all he needs to know.

He lets out a pleased, dark chuckle as you lower yourself down, his hands gripping tighter onto your waist as he positions you for the best angle. He does not even bother to pull the scrap of lace aside, happily eating you out through it.

San whines when your fingers squeeze around him, liquid oozing from the tip, his hips stuttering lightly before he settles back down. His cock is flushed dark, pulsing in your hand, but it is hard to focus on him right now. A lazy hand continues to stroke him while you struggle to focus on anything but Wooyoung’s muffled moans against your sopping heat.

You bite your lip to keep silent, hips moving on their own accord as Wooyoung’s nose presses against your clit, his mouth undeterred by the obstruction of lace as he makes a sloppy mess of your cunt, eagerly lapping away.

Wooyoung is rarely this quiet, but today he foregoes his usual dirty talk and running commentary to direct his full attention on reducing you to a mindless mess. He is a fiend with his mouth either way, thick swipes of his tongue and grazing teeth, mouth suckling at you through the now-ruined lace.

It takes all your self-control to stay on task, to not get distracted by the sound of a zipper, and soon after the wet noise of Wooyoung jerking himself off, still moaning against your leaking cunt. You shake yourself out of it, wrapping your lips around just the head of San’s cock, licking at the steady stream of precum while you use both hands to work his length. He twitches in your mouth, and for a moment you wonder if he’s going to cum without even waking up at all.

But then Wooyoung uses his nose to nudge your panties aside and sucks directly at your clit, and you moan loudly around San’s cock at the sudden stimuli.

San starts awake at the vibration, his hips reflexively jerking forward. You happily meet his thrust to gag on him, making San hiss a throttled curse. “F-fuck, what’s-ahhh—”

His hand flies to your hair, instinctively holding you in place. Your eyes tear up as he hits the back of your throat and stays there, but you can still glance upward to look at him — and he’s a fucking sight to behold. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, his mouth slack and panting hard for breath as he tries to get his bearings. Eyes landing on you, his cock twitching as understanding dawns. The moment is every bit as beautiful as you had imagined.

“Look who it is, Sannie,” Wooyoung grins when he notices San is awake, taking a break from tongue-fucking you. “Came over just to congratulate you. Ain’t that sweet?”

“Fuck,” San chokes out, his voice gravelly from sleep. He hisses sharply when you hollow your cheeks and give a light suck, drawing a low groan. Slowly, the sleep retreats from his eyes and is replaced by a dark alertness, though his face is still flushed, his body tired.

Lazily, he lets you continue doing what you do, only stroking your hair in encouragement as he releases you, letting you return to shallower bobs of your head. “Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, biting his lip. Once again, your attention is drawn to the bruise on the corner of his mouth, aching to be kissed — but your own mouth is preoccupied. Later, you promise yourself. There will be time for that later.

As expected, San’s moans are a little deeper now he is awake, slowly rocking his hips as he watches you take him further with every pass of your mouth. You wonder if he’s even aware of the difference in his sounds, or if that’s just a little secret for you and Wooyoung to know.

Speaking of Wooyoung — now that he doesn’t have to keep quiet for San, he gets talkative again. “Use me, baby,” he groans, his fingers digging into your ass. “Come on, ride me a little harder. Don’t be shy. Smear that wet pussy all over my face.”

You don’t need to be told twice, enthusiastically granting Wooyoung’s request. He moans happily as you fuck yourself on his tongue, any further words muffled between your thighs. You’d worry about whether Wooyoung can even breathe, except he has a death-grip on your hips and refuses to let you slow down. His nose repeatedly bumps into your clit, sending sparks through you every time, your moans reverberating around San.

San grunts at the feeling, voice husky and low. But as attractive as the sound is… some part of you wants to hear his whimper again. Just to see if you can make him do it.

Well. There are a few sure-fire ways you know to push San to the very limit and beyond — and one of them is immediately available to you.

He was already pushing deep inside your mouth, but you do your best to relax your throat and surge forward, your nose brushing his pelvis as you choke yourself on his cock, then pull back to do it again. And again. A lewd, wet gurgle filling the room every time, your throat constricting as you strain around his thick shaft, tears burning in your eyes.

San groans at your renewed efforts, a greed shining in his sharp eyes when he realises what you’re doing, what you are asking him to do. His fingers scrape your scalp as they embed tighter around the strands of hair. Recognising the unspoken invitation to fuck your mouth as hard as he wants.

“That’s it,” he growls, “you know how I like it. Choke on my cock, hm? I’ll stuff you until you can’t breathe.”

You can barely breathe already; it’s hard to pull in air through your nose like this, with San steadily rocking his hips forward. You go slack in his hold, just letting him use you to his liking, trying to curl your tongue around the underside of his cock in the way you know drives him up the wall.

Wooyoung makes a noise when you slump down on his face, and you try to catch yourself but he won’t have it, only sucking more eagerly onto your clit as he grabs onto your thighs to keep you in place. You moan loudly, and San curses in response, his breath getting pitchy.

It’s working, you realise. It’s not as much as when he is asleep, but slowly a whiny lilt creeps into San’s voice as he uses your throat, his face contorted with pained pleasure.

Your head starts to spin, the barrage of sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Slick sounds and deep moans, a heady scent of arousal permeating the air. San’s cock obstructing your breath, his little whines; Wooyoung’s tongue nimbly flicking against your clit, his hands squeezing at the soft meat of your thighs. You’re tilting, slowly but surely, right over the edge when Wooyoung sucks harshly, exactly when San whimpers.

It hits you like a freight train, the violent force of it enough to have you sobbing around San’s cock. You tremble and shake as electricity surges through you, only held up by San and Wooyoung’s hold on you.

Your garbled cries take San over the edge with you, though he still has enough restraint to pull back slightly, no longer nudging against your gag reflex. He shudders with a tight hiss, clumsy fingers catching in your hair as he spills hot seed inside your mouth.

You almost choke again; it’s messy, and there is a lot, leaving you to wonder if San has been abstaining before the match. Lately you certainly haven’t done more with them than casual texts or hangouts, but can make no assumptions about what he and Wooyoung get up to when you’re not around.

You try your best not to swallow it down — and not spill a single drop, either. At the latter, you don’t succeed entirely, a thin wet trail dribbling down your lips when San pulls out and slumps back onto the couch with a final, loud groan. But when Wooyoung gets out from underneath to sit next to you, and pushes a thumb on your bottom lip to show him, you can proudly stick out your tongue to him, sticky whiteness on display.

“Good girl,” Wooyoung purrs, fondly cupping your cheek. “Don’t even need me to tell you anymore, huh? So well-behaved for us.”

You moan contently at the praise, and again when Wooyoung eagerly puts his lips on you, sloppily lapping up San’s cum from your chin, your lips, until his tongue invades your mouth for a proper meal. You can taste yourself on him while Wooyoung tastes San, who is watching it all with a small, cocky grin, teeth flashing at you.

Wooyoung lets out a needy moan as he drinks deep, his tongue sliding against yours in a heady dance. He grabs for your hand, guiding you down to his still-hard cock, hot and weeping precum. Your fingers are still messy and slick, making it easy for you to jerk him off while he continues to hungrily kiss you, licking up every last drop he can reach.

It’s less of a challenge to make Wooyoung whimper, but the sound is no less exciting for it, his high-pitched moans like music to your ears. He cums messily in your hand, some spilling onto your dress. With a final bite to your bottom lip, he pulls away from your mouth, eyes heavy-lidded and looking thoroughly fucked out, lips swollen and shiny from the essences of both you and San. You grin at him, lifting your hand to suck his cum off your fingers.

Only then do you turn to San, who is indulging himself with slow strokes on his cock while he still watches you and Wooyoung intently.

“Congratulations on the match,” you say casually, cum-stained fingers lingering on your lips.

San’s grin returns to his face and he grabs your hand to pull you into his lap…where you finally get to kiss that bruise on the corner of his mouth. He winces as you press up to him, and you can hear Wooyoung grouse next to you.

“Be careful with him, alright? That’s my meal ticket you got there,” he complains, dusting himself off as he gets back on his feet.

But San wraps his arms around you, keeping you captive. “You don’t have to be that careful,” he murmurs against your mouth, his hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds you against his crotch. The night is not over quite yet.

-☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧☆✧-

An indeterminate time and a thorough shower later, you are sitting snugly between San and Wooyoung on their shabby old couch. They graciously borrowed you some clothes, leaving you cosily wrapped in a pair of San’s sweats and one of Wooyoung’s oversized hoodies. In your hands you have freshly delivered takeout, enjoying a hot meal together with the guys.

Their treat, of course.

2K notes · View notes

babygorewhore · 2 months

Text

Primal

Spencer needs to take out his anger on you after his traumatic experience in prison.

Warnings! Porn no plot! Pussy slapping! Mean Spencer! Dom! Spencer! Sub! Reader! Degrading! Bondage! Unprotected sex! Light fingering! Brief primal play! Sir kink! Crying kink! W.C less than 1k. Requested by my angel @xxbimbobunnyxx

“Spencer? Are you going to come to bed?” You prodded gently as you leaned on the doorway of Spencer’s office. He relentlessly typed away at his computer and only cast you a side glance.

“In a minute.” He mumbled. You looked at the clock.

“Baby…it’s almost three am.” You responded carefully and Spencer snapped his full attention to you.

“I can’t sleep. It’s better I’m here being productive.”

Ever since he got out of prison, Spencer wasn’t the same. Understandably so. You tried your best to support him. Help him cope with the aftermath of the trauma he went through. But it was growing harder and harder to sleep alone. You missed him terribly. It had been a while since you’d been intimate.

“You can’t torture yourself. Please, just try to come to bed, Spencer.” You extend your hand but he narrows his eyes.

“Come to bed or fuck you?”

Your eyes widen at his brass words and your mouth becomes dry as Spencer stands from his desk. His long fingers grasp the strap of your nightgown.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you.” He breathes and leans down. Your eyes drift shut as he nuzzles his face into your neck. Spencer’s lips brush against your collarbone. “But I don’t want to scare you.”

“You couldn’t possibly scare me.” You answer back sternly and he shakes his head. Brown curls tickling your skin.

“The nights I laid there in prison. All I could think about was that sound you make when you cum. It would replay over and over in my head as I imagined making it louder.”

Your nipples harden as Spencer cups the back of your head and stares into your eyes. “Do you think you can handle what I want? You think you can…take it?” His lust filled tone sent shivers down your spine.

“Yes, sir.” You reply and Spencer tugs off his tie. He pushes you backwards, leading you to the shared bedroom and you stumble onto the bed.

“Put your hands up.” He orders softly and you immediately obey. Spencer wraps the tie around your wrists above your head.

“Are you going to be a good girl?” You nod but you feel a harsh slap to your cunt making you squeal. “Use your words.”

“Yes, sir!”

“God, you’re dripping already. Clenching around nothing probably and I haven’t even put anything in you. That’s absolutely pathetic.” Spencer rolls his eyes as you blink away tears from your eyes. “Don’t waste those tears yet, doll.”

You weren’t used to this. Spencer was your sweet, nerd boy who spent his time studying statistics and reading nonfiction. But the dark look in his brown eyes caused your hips to buck as he landed another blow to your cunt.

“Fuck,” you whine as Spencer shoves up your nightgown and revealed your glistening pussy.

“Wet from me slapping your pussy a few times? Spread your legs wider.”

You listen to him and Spencer admires the wetness slipping down your inner thighs. He separates your pussy with his fingers, gathering it and brings it to his lips. He sucks them clean before shoving them in your mouth.

“Taste how desperate you are for me to touch you.” He barks and you gag around his fingers. Spencer yanks them out, tapping your cheek. “Bet you spent a while touching yourself while I was gone but no one can fuck you like I can.” He mounts you, disregarding his pants and boxers. Spencer’s length and girth was impressive. He gave himself a few pumps, the aching red tip making your mouth water. He wraps your legs around his shoulders and shoves into you, your cunt squeezing him tightly.

“Come on, you can do better than that.” Spencer growls and wraps his hand around your neck.

Your eyes widen from his force and drool peeks from the corners of your lips as he makes you keep eye contact. “No one can fuck me like you.” You wheeze.

He shocks you by pulling out of you, his cum leaking onto your exposed stomach. You start crying harder and Spencer reaches up. He unties you, giving your aching cunt another slap.

“Run. Run out of here now.”

You lay there for a few seconds and Spencer gestures.

“I said run. Now!” His raised tone frightens you. He never yells. You scramble up, legs shaking and you quickly move out of the bedroom.

You had no idea what you unlocked in him but as you run to the living room, you feel a strong grip wrap around your hair. You shriek as Spencer’s surprising strength manages to manhandle you onto the couch on your stomach.

“You wanted to get caught didn’t you? That’s why you ran around like a deer.” He hoists up your lower body, your ass up in the air. Spencer shoves inside your pussy for the second time. Cum drips off your stomach onto the sofa as he humps so hard into you, the balance nearly knocks you off.

His brutal pace clouds your vision. “Tell me who owns you.” Spencer wraps his arm around your throat. “Tell me right now or I won’t let you cum.”

“You own me!” You weep and your orgasm overcomes you. You cum all over his dick, giving him extra lube and you let out a pornographic moan that would normally embarrass you.

“God damn, princess. You can’t even wait for permission? I shouldn’t have been so nice to you.” Spencer hauls you off the couch, making you sprawl onto the floor.

He looked fucking insane. His eyes filled with dark desire, mouth trembling with weeks of pent up rage and hate. You were terrified and turned on.

“Crawl back to the bedroom and start thinking about all the days I was your sweet boy. Because you’re not gonna see him for a while.”

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @cxrrodedcoffin @bimbotrashcan @redhead1180 @starkeysprincess @oceandriveab @oceanblvd111 @fear-is-truth @olivia-moo

#dr. spencer reid #Spencer Reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #Spencer Reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid cm #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #smut

445 notes · View notes

sanguineterrain · 10 months

Text

in your hands | jason todd

Summary: Jason thinks he's too big to be loved. You show him that that's impossible.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings/tags: bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.

A/N: as always, if you like this fic, tell me through comments and reblogs :)

the divider

Tonight, Jason comes home far away.

You clock it as soon as he walks in. He’s moving on autopilot: boots by the door, helmet on the shelf, gear in the closet. He washes his hands, hangs up his jacket, and then he stands at the doorway. And waits.

You’re never quite sure what he’s waiting for. But you know that he’ll stay stuck in his head if you don’t step in.

“Hey, baby,” you say, cupping his cheeks. “Hey. You wanna eat or clean up first?”

The change is instant. As soon as you touch him, Jason is there. You’ve never mentioned it to him. It frightens you too much to explore, knowing that you’re his tether. You don’t want to think about what that means, having the power to anchor a man who used to be dead.

He looks at you, meets your gaze head-on.

“Did I disappear?” he whispers.

“Little bit. It’s okay.”

You keep stroking his cheeks, avoiding his shaving cuts and the freshly split lip. There’s a bruise around his eye and on his temple.

“Wanna wash up,” he finally says, but his hands cling to your waist.

You pet the back of his neck. “Want me to go with you?”

“Please?” He glances at the kitchen. “But if you’re in the middle ‘f something, then—”

“No, Jay. C’mon.”

You take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom. Jason undresses while you draw a bath. Soon the bathroom starts to fog up with steam. You pour in some Epsom salts for his muscle aches—you know he should soak more than he does.

You turn off the faucet. Jason is in his boxers, staring at himself in the mirror. He picks at his autopsy scar, presses the puckered white flesh until it turns red.

“Jay,” you say gently. “C’mere, honey.”

His hands drop to his sides. Jason goes to the bath, pulls off his underwear, and sinks into the water. It’s a generously-sized tub. Jason had gotten his old tub replaced for a larger one after you’d mentioned that you liked baths. Soon enough, you’d introduced him to the wonders of hot baths for his sore muscles.

Even with its size, Jason still has to bend his knees slightly to fit. He pushes himself up easily. A little water sloshes over and dampens the edge of your shirt. Jason curses.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, honey. You want me to come in?”

He nods. You pull off your shirt, then your pants and underwear. Jason folds in on himself to make room, but you stop him.

“I’ll just sit between your legs, Jay. No problem.”

You step into the bath. Jason holds your wrist so you can sit down without slipping. He stares at his hand on your arm after you’ve sat.

You reach over for a washcloth and pour a lightly-scented soap. You lather it up first, then rub it over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Jason is perfectly still.

“Can you lean over, baby? So I can get your back.”

Jason obediently leans over. You smile at him as he holds himself up with his core. You know Jason’s not just strong, that he’s agile too. He’s very good at wielding his body.

You wash his back. This close, you can see the contours of his muscles, how broad he is.

When you’re done, you wring the soap out of the cloth and cup water in your palms to rinse the suds off of his skin. You catch his gaze in the mirror across the tub. Jason turns his head.

“God, look at me. How are you not afraid every time I come stompin’ around?”

You stop pouring water and rest your hands on Jason’s biceps. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs. “I’m like a huge, fuckin’... monster. Too big, too loud. I’m—” He swallows, bows his head. “How can you look at me?”

“Jay, honey. You’re not a monster.”

“Bruce thinks so,” he whispers, and straightens. “He can barely look at me. Every time he does, ‘s like he doesn’t even recognize me.”

His hand quietly swishes through the water to claw at his autopsy scar.

“This is all I am. Just violence. ‘M too big for anything else.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull his head into your chest. Jason hugs you back. His shoulders begin to shake.

“You’re more than your body,” you say. “You’re more than what the Pit made you. What you were.”

He shakes and cries into your neck. “I was small. People loved me when I was small.”

You pick up his head. Jason’s eyes are thick with tears. You lean in and kiss his Cupid’s bow.

“I love you.” You brush away his tears with your lips. “I love you so much, Jay. That’ll never change.”

“Too big for it,” he rasps.

You shake your head. “No, Jaybird. You’re never too big to be loved.”

“I’m s-scary.”

You kiss his temple, rub between his shoulder blades. Jason clings tighter.

“You don’t scare me. You never have.”

He pulls you closer, so you’re chest-to-chest. You straddle his stomach with your legs and hug Jason as tightly as you can.

“I was good when I was small,” he says. “I don’t–I don’t know how to be good anymore. I wanna be good, I do. I don’t want Bruce to think I’m bad. I’m still good.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh, Jay. Baby. You are good. You came back to make a change. You’ve always been good. You’ve got a good heart. Nothing’s going to change that. Bruce is stubborn and stuck in his head. But you’ll always be his son. And you’ll always have people who love you.”

“What if I’m not worth it?” he whispers. “What if I’m too lost?”

“Then I’ll go out and find you. And we’ll come home together,” you say. “You’ll always find your way back home.”

He smells like soap and Epsom salts. You kiss his autopsy scar. Jason shakes more.

“Let me wash your hair, baby,” you say.

He nods, tears on his lashes. You wet his hair and pour shampoo. You rest your lips on his cheek as you lather the shampoo, detangling tiny knots with your fingers. Jason bends at the waist so you can rinse off the soap with the faucet.

You tap his hip and Jason sits up. He slips his arms around you again and tucks his chin into your neck.

“Don’t let go,” he says, suddenly desperate. “Don’t–don’t let me go.”

“I won’t, Jay. I’m right here.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd angst #fluff #soft jason todd #batman fanfiction #dc fanficton

2K notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

Spiral

Bucky Barnes x teacher reader

Warnings: AANGST Arguments, mean Bucky, break up, make up, fluffff

listen, don’t eat me alive for this, I’ve been craving some angst (with a happy ending), the type that makes my chest itch so here we are. If this is too toxic for you and you only live for sunshine and rainbows and perfect communication, then this is not the fic for you. He gets mean because that’s what I wanted. So mean. I wanted to feel physical pain while reading. But then my hamster brain got exhausted to write more groveling. So don’t come at me about “she shouldn’t have taken him back, he should’ve begged and groveled more” He groveled.

You sighed, rubbing sleep away from your eyes, trying to get them to focus on the time on the clock.

2:57 AM

You stretched out some of the kinks from your neck after falling asleep on the couch, reaching for your phone and squinting at the bright screen, all your calls and texts left unanswered. He didn’t respond to one. You sat up hearing the lock click open, some of your anxiety melting away hearing the thud of his bag hit the floor.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah” He toed off his boots and shrugged off his jacket, heading straight for the bedroom without even looking your way, his shoulders heavy from exhaustion. You followed him to your shared bedroom, taking his bag from him and unpacking it while he stripped his clothes off getting ready to take a shower.

“What time did you guys get back?”

“Couple hours ago” He grunted, tossing his clothes into the hamper, heading to the bathroom and clicking the lock shut. You blinked, slightly taken aback by his coldness but it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this side before. Bucky had improved a lot with his stress and how he handled missions but ones that involved casualties or hydra would pull him into deep waves of despair, holding him down till he nearly drowned.

You swallowed the uneasiness that crept up your spine; now wasn’t the time to ask him why he hadn’t let you know he was back safe or why he had ignored all your messages. He would have been busy with reports and right now he was drained. You went to grab his Henley and some boxer briefs, laying them out on the bed for him as soon as you heard the water shut off. He emerged out with his towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his short locks while you grabbed his clothes, handing it to him before he went to the closet.

“Here, I already got them out of the closet”

He half mumbled in response, pulling his clothes on and falling into bed, snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow. You weren’t a fan of him sleeping with wet hair, grabbing a dry towel and gently patting his hair as best as you could without waking him. He mumbled something again, pulling the sheet higher on himself and tucking himself further away from you, unbothered with his still semi damp hair. You jolted at the sound of your phone buzzing, Sam’s caller ID lighting up the screen.

“Hey Sam”

“Big guy get home alright?”

“He did, why?”

“Hm” You could hear the hesitation in his voice, “He’s been pretty out of it these past few missions, probably because he’s exhausted. Tony’s told him to sit out a couple of them but he’s there anyway. Stubborn as hell”

“He really is” You shook your head, frowning at his sleeping form. Usually you found his stubbornness endearing but not when it was taking a toll on his health.

“We uh...” Sam paused again, contemplating on if he should tell you his next words, deciding facing Bucky’s wrath would be better than losing him all together. “I know he’ll kick my ass for telling you this but we nearly lost him today”

Your mouth dried up, heart rapidly hammering against your ribcage. You couldn’t get any words out to acknowledge what he’d just said but you heard him loud and clear.

“Oh”

“It’s a lot, I know. Maybe talk to him. He’s getting reckless, it’s going to get him killed. We’ve tried talking to him but you know how-”

“Yeah” You blurted out, your mind now racing along with your heart, your body feeling hot. You could feel your anxiety sky rocket at the thought of Bucky endangering himself, never coming home to you again. The way your bed would feel empty. The way your soul would leave along with him. You couldn’t speak anymore, humming and mumbling the rest of the conversation. “Thanks Sam”

You slipped under the covers, sleep not taking over as easily. Your anxiety at an all time high. Bucky used to text you as soon as he got back. Not a single one of your calls would be left unanswered. Running to you the second the jet landed. He’d never leave your side, taking you into the shower with him and making love to you till the sun came up with endless cuddles afterwards. Even after some of his darkest missions, he’d search for you eventually, seeking your comfort and warmth.

Now?

Nothing.

You groaned hearing the alarm go off, forcing yourself out of bed and going through your routine, getting ready for work and packing your things for the day. Your movements were shaky, the conversation with Sam screaming in your head while you poured some coffee and got started on breakfast. You wanted to scream and cry so badly but you couldn’t. It wouldn’t be a productive conversation when Bucky was like this anyway. You ended up running on autopilot, thinking about the lessons you’d teach for the day, supplies you still had to order for the classroom, the nagging parent that wanted to arrange a meeting after school. Bucky trudged into the kitchen a few minutes after you, setting on a bowl of cereal, his eyes sullen from a lack of proper sleep.

“Can I make something for you?” you tested the waters to gauge his mood though you could see from his face he was still mentally elsewhere. He shook his head, huffing in frustration when the utensil drawer jammed, squeezing his eyes shut to collect himself before trying to open it again.

“Sweetheart, let me get that for you” You set down your things, realizing that his exhausted state made his patience wear thin.

“It’s fine” He tried to push the frustration he felt down, his teeth gritted as spoke, yanking at the drawer once more.

“It’s probably stuck, just pull it slowly-”

“I said I got it”

“But-”

“I’m not one of your fucking students!” He stated louder than necessary, pulling the drawer out with more force than he intended, all the contents inside crashing and clanking to the floor. You yelped in surprise, ignored the shakiness you started to feel coursing through your body, stepping towards Bucky instead, your heart breaking over how lost and worn out he looked.

“Baby I didn’t say that-

“Why the fuck do you treat me like a child then?! Taking out my clothes, drying my hair, making my breakfast, texting and calling 100 times when I’m away. Do I look like I’m incapable of taking care of myself?” He spat, taking a step back from you when you tried to reach out from him, his brows furrowed, blue eyes glaring at you. You couldn’t help but let your anger bubble over, how dare he yell at you when he was the one carelessly putting his life at risk at risk on a daily basis.

“Honestly?!” Your composure started to crumble, your eyes boring into his sleep deprived face, “From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it”

Bucky let out a humorless laugh, scoffing while you continued to stare at him. He slammed the drawer shut, not bothering to pick up what had fallen as he started to walk away from the kitchen and back to the bedroom.

“Fuck this, I don’t need this” He shook his head while you followed him, going straight to the closet to grab his duffle bag he took for overnight missions.

“What exactly do you not need” You tried to take a deep breath in, not wanting to upset him more when he wasn’t in a good state of mind.

“You”

Oh.

“I don’t need you or your coddling” He started to grab handfuls of his clothes, shoving them haphazardly in his bag. “It’s suffocating y/n”

You watched him in silence, squeezing your nails into your palms, desperately trying to hold it together while he continued to pack the few belongings he had.

“Having someone constantly nag you about your whereabouts, doubt if you can even take care of your basic needs. Its-it’s just exhausting”

You swallowed away the tightness that constricted your throat, not wanting to aggravate him further even though your own emotions were now thrown for a loop. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t your Bucky.

“James, all you had to do was just tell me you were safe, you used to answer your messages, I worry about y-

“Well don’t! Because I don’t worry about you. Alright? There. That’s why I don’t message”

You wordlessly stared at him, your mouth dry as if you’d swallowed cotton. Your chest felt like you had been hit by a truck, feeling pain on the inside as your heart strings snapped one by one each time he spoke.

“I don’t message because I don’t care. When I come back I just-I just want to be left alone. That's why I spend so much time at the compound after. I don’t exactly feel like rushing home”

You wanted to bite your tongue, walk away but the words were falling from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Clearly you don’t care! Is that why the fuck you take on so many missions when you’re clearly worn the fuck out? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job” Bucky growled while you willed yourself to not let him see you cry, your eyes betraying you as tears welled in your lash line.

“It’s not doing your job if you’re dead Bucky!” Hot tears were now rolling down your cheeks, any resolve you previously had thrown out the door.

“You don’t know anything” Bucky shook his head, scoffing and pushing past you while you pathetically trailed behind him, unable to stop this train wreck of an argument.

“What?”

He finally turned to face you, dropping his bag in the living room, his sullen eyes daring you to try and stop him from leaving. You were about to open your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“What the fuck do you know y/n, you get to go in every morning, coddle some children for 8 hours, then you come back home, fucking try and do the same shit with me after like you have nothing better to do, too stupid to realize I can take care of myself. Why would I need you? Huh? Tell me” He challenged, the rational side of his brain kicking and screaming at him to stop but he was too far gone, too deprived of everything to stop the venom he was spitting. “I don’t need you. I don’t fucking want you”

“Th-that’s how you feel?” Bucky blinked at the sound of your voice cracking, though his ego and anger at the rest of the world not letting him back down. He shrugged, his stomach now churning over your stoic expression but your eyes giving away how much he was hurting you. “Fine”

You didn’t move a muscle as he grabbed his bag and headed out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Every single fiber in your body wanted to crumble to the floor, wishing it would swallow you whole. You pushed back all the emotions that wanted to crash all over the floor, shakily packing your things up and rushing out the door, hoping your little ones would distract you enough to get through the day.

If anything they made it worse.

Every one one of your students knew something was off, seeing right past the smile you had plastered onto your face, doing your best to appear normal. You fought off tears as your third graders quietly made you cards to make you feel better during their recess time, a few of them even leaving portions of their snack on your desk, hoping it’d make you smile. You avoided reading any of the sweet little notes, knowing you’d break down into sobs if you read them.

As soon as you got home, all your pent up sadness turned into rage. Angry tears streamed down your face as soon as you locked the door shut, the soft scent of home, of your Bucky now made your stomach turn. You hated that the whole place suffocated you with him, pictures of you both, his records and books on the shelves, a Henley on the couch. The kitchen was no better, plums on the counter, his favorite coffee in the cupboard, a Captain America mug still in the sink.

You desperately wanted to shower and crawl into bed but the shared bedroom was the worst of all. You couldn’t stand to be in the space where his clothes were, the sheet still lingering with his soft scent that used to make you feel safe and remind you of home. You didn’t even realize you had broken down into sobs on the floor, all the pent up emotions you had kept in you spilling out all at once.

The last thing you wanted to do was coddle and suffocate Bucky, his words echoing in your head.

I don’t message because I don’t care

What do you know, y/n?

I don’t need you.

I don’t fucking want you.

Fine.

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he got home, blinking at the dark house, usually you’d leave at least one light on. He had made it clear he was leaving, he couldn't expect you to be waiting at the front door with open arms. He stood for a moment, wondering if you had perhaps gone to bed early but it was eerily quiet. He didn’t like the cold silence that greeted him, it didn’t take him long to realize you weren’t there.

Yet there was an inkling of hope that maybe. Just maybe you were somewhere around.

“Y/n?”

Nothing.

He made his way right to the bedroom, only to be met with more cold silence. Bucky’s mind swirled, regret, guilt and shame constricting his neck once again. As soon as he had walked out, he wanted nothing more than to run back into the house and take it all back, tell you he didn’t mean a word of what he said. He wanted to scoop you in his arms and beg for forgiveness and shower you with love for the way you cared about him so much. He let his feet carry him away instead, not being able to think straight, frustration and pain feeding the caged monster he unleased on you.

The last person that deserved it.

Where had you gone?

Did it matter?

He paced around the room; none of your things were out of place but it was too late for you to have gone on a walk or to grab food. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, feeling nothing but disgust with himself, the image of your sweet fallen face burned in his mind. How could he push away the one person who cared enough to take care of him so tenderly. So gently. So lovingly.

And to say he didn’t care? Or worry?

How could he let those words fall from his lips when you were the reason he stayed alive. It took everything in him to not smash the first thing that came into his hand, of all the reckless and careless things he had done in this life, this was the worst. This hurt more than anything Hydra had put him though. He almost wished they’d take him away again, wipe his memories, wipe away the sound of your voice cracking, wipe away the way you’d softly call for him. Wipe away the feel of your soft hands touching him and soothing him when he couldn't sleep-

Wipe everything away because he was selfish.

Unable to exist with he guilt of knowing he’d hurt you so much.

His hands were working faster than his brain could comprehend, calling the first person he could think of, desperate to know you were at least okay and alive before he purged the city to look for you.

“Nat-”

“She’s here” Nat deadpanned, cutting the call immediately after. He knew by her tone of voice, there would be no point in trying to call back. He had no right to see you. No right to come and ask for you to come back. He had no right for anything yet he had already broken off into a sprint. He made it very clear he didn’t want you, very clear you meant nothing, very clear he was the most fucked up idiot in the world, completely undeserving of your love.

But he was selfish.

He loved you.

Bucky didn’t waste a second, hopping onto his motorbike and speeding off to the compound, bounding to the elevators and immediately to Nat’s door. He barely raised his hand to knock, the red head reluctantly opening the door to a disheveled Bucky.

“She doesn’t want to see you”

“Nat, please-

“Barnes. She doesn’t want to see you” She threw in with a shrug, her green eyes challenging him to argue back.

“I want to see her” His voice was small, hopeful, only to be met with a scoff and eyeroll, the assassin stepping out of the room and gently shutting the door behind her.

“So you can tell her you don’t want her?” Nat crossed her arms while Bucky felt his insides crumble more, his own words taunting him.

“She told you?”

“Not much because even now, she’s more worried about you instead of how you treated her” Nat glared at the super solider as he hung his head, knowing damn well he had already been spiraling for weeks, his explosion a result of pent up pain and stress left undealt with. “Y’know you could’ve lost it on one of us but not her, she’s always been there for you in ways no one else could”

Bucky felt his throat tighten, unable to get any words out as he silently nodded and made his way to a different floor to sleep in a guest room. Of course he didn’t sleep, tears staining the pillow, struggling to keep his sobs down. He spent the rest of the night all the way till morning pacing up and down the hall instead, waiting for you to wake up, ignoring the glare Nat gave him when she saw him sitting on the floor outside of her room. As soon as the door clicked open again, Bucky scrambled to his feet, rushing to your side.

“Y/n-

“Don’t”

You couldn’t bare to look at him, turning on your heel with your bag slung over your shoulder. Bucky reached for your wrist, weakly grasping it, the undeserving inkling of hope he had slowly dissolving when he felt your muscles tense.

“I’m sor-

“I said don’t. I don’t want to hear it” You shook your head, tugging your hand away and continuing down the hall while Bucky trailed behind you like a puppy.

“Angel, angel please wait!” He caught up with you, moving to block your path, but you shoved his chest, pushing him aside, gritting you teeth together till you made it outside. You would not let him see you break twice.

“No”

“Angel, I-I need-”

“You made it very clear you don’t need much. I’m not something you need” You cut him off before he could finish, unable to shake off the way the words he cut you deep, tangled around you like barbed wire. Your words cut him right back, his chest filling with even more guilt and regret.

“That’s not true baby” His voice trembled, looking at your tear stained cheeks and puffy face. He’d never forgive himself over the pain he’d caused you, itching to pull you in his arms but how could he when he made you cry in the first place.

“Don’t call me that” You scoffed, feeling your throat tighten, your vision cloudy with fresh tears. You kept your eyes trained towards the elevator, hoping to escape before the damn broke.

“But you are”

“No, I’m not” You shook your head, “You can get the rest of your things today, you won’t have to worry about not rushing home anymore” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, dashing towards the doors as soon as they opened and striding through the compound till you got to your car. The skin on your knuckles was pulled tight as you gripped the steering wheel, breathing slowly till you got home. Everything came crashing down again as soon as you were back in your room; it wouldn’t have hurt this much if you didn’t actually love him

But you did.

Bucky looked defeated as the elevator doors closed, his heart breaking further when you didn’t spare him a second glance. He didn’t bother wiping away the tears that were now streaming down his face as he made his way back to the guest room, ignoring Steve’s concerned glance and slamming the door shut. As expected, there was a knock at the door moments later, blond hair and blue eyes peering inside, unbothered by the death glare Bucky was shooting him.

“You did something” He cocked an eyebrow, looking at his bestfriends guilt ridden face, staring at his feet like an admonished child. Bucky chewed at his lip, figuring there was no point in lying at this point, if anything he deserved the scolding he’d inevitably get.

“I messed up”

“That would appear so” Steve nodded, urging him to continue.

“I said a lot of things”

“You should apologize”

“I can’t apologize for the things I said” Bucky shook his head, his voice trembling again, “I-I can’t just say sorry. It’s been weeks. Weeks of giving her shit. This just- it was too much. Y-you should have seen her face Steve”

Steve remained silent, letting him continue.

“Fuck- I-, y’know she goes as far as drying my hair if I try to sleep while its still damp? Even when it’s late? and she has work the next morning”

“And the problem is? She always takes care of you, I’ve seen it myself”

Bucky scoffed at himself, shaking his head while fidgeting with his hands.

What was his problem.

He had a girl that actually gave a fuck about him, wanting to know if he was safe and loving him enough to take care of him even when he was broken.

“I got mad at her for it” His voice was a whisper, dripping in shame, “She’d waited for me to get home, took care of me and I yelled at her”

“Explain” Steve didn’t like where the conversation was going but he wasn’t about to let Bucky off the hook without finding out exactly what happened. “All of it”

“I-I was tired. I got frustrated when a drawer got stuck and lashed out on her and told her I didn’t want her. Didn’t need her. Had no interest in seeing her. It had already been a long time of me just not seeing or talking to her properly in general”

“Bucky”

“I know” He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at Steve’s face. “and a lot of other shit. And I can’t take it back”

“No, you can’t” Steve agreed, much to Bucky’s discontent but again, his best friend wouldn’t lie and he had brought this all on himself. “You actually care about her?”

“I fucking love her” Bucky’s eyes shot up, full confidence in his voice, he, without a single doubt in his soul, loved you completely.

“Then give her time. You hurt her, Buck”

Bucky nodded, hating that he had no choice now but to wait. He quietly collected his things while you were at work, not wanting to torment you further.

You hadn’t spoken to Bucky for weeks. Every time your missed him, thought about him, picked up your phone to call and check on him, you remembered what he told you.

He didn’t want you.

You downed another drink, staying tucked away at a booth while Natasha and Wanda went off dancing, the both of them dragging out out of the house, insisting you had to get out. Even after the break up, they remained close to you. No amount of make up could cover the puffiness and redness of your eyes or mask the way your voice was stuffy from nights of crying to sleep but there you were. On your third glass.

“Someone looks happy to be here”

Your eyes searched the crowd for the familiar voice, eventually landing on Sam, his eyebrows playfully wiggling as he slid into your booth. You relaxed when you saw he hadn’t come with Bucky but you knew based off his face, there was something on his mind.

“I think you both should talk”

There it is.

“There’s nothing to talk about” You shrugged, swirling your drink around with your straw while Sam sighed.

“You’re both miserable”

“I made him miserable” You countered, nervously fidgeting with your fingers instead.

“You know that’s not true-” Sam started but the scoff you let out let him know that was a pointless road to go down, “Okay fine. Things weren’t great. But it was an abrupt end and he’s been kicking himself and you don’t look like you’re doing so hot either sweetheart”

“Thanks” You deadpanned while he grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

“He’s really trying for you, y/n” Sam said softly, the playfulness in his voice replaced with sincerity.

“What do you mean?”

“Talk to him”

You spent the rest of the week contemplating what Sam said but every time you picked up your phone, you dropped it again. You messages would probably be ignored and he likely hated you even more. Which is why you were curled up on the couch, trying not to think about him, having a night for yourself, hoping not to be tempted with your phone though a soft thump at the door pulled you away from the story. You set down the book you were reading, growing nervous when you heard the sound again. You were sure you were just hearing things but this time it was more clear. The second knock at the door made you blink, curious to know who would come by at this time.

“Bucky?” You gasped, surprised to find him standing on the other side, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, the stems nearly crushed from how nervous he was, “What-what are you doing here?”

“It’s-fuck, it’s been hell sweets” Bucky whispered, his knees already ready to give way, the smell of home, the sight of you, all making him feel overwhelmed. “Hell knowing I hurt you”

You stepped aside to let him in, not wanting to keep him in the hallway. Bucky stayed rooted in place on the welcome mat, not wanting to cross a boundary if you didn’t want him there. He hesitantly came in when you gave him a small nod, his movements shaky as he toed his boots off and followed you to the living room, the both of you standing in silence.

“You said you didn’t want me” You kept your eyes trained on your feet, tears already threatening to spill over, you could feel the warmth of his body with how close he was, smell the scent of his laundry detergent, his cologne, the leather of his jacket.

“How could I not want you sweets, you’re one of the reasons I’m alive-”

“Didn’t seem that way”

“I know baby, but-”

“Don’t call me that James” You shook your head, your heart twisting hearing his pleading voice, the sweet names he had for you making you weak.

“No” Bucky shook his head as he felt his stomach drop at the sound of his name coming from your mouth, he despised it, hated it, “ m’not James, m’your Bucky, your Jamie, your baby, please-”

“You’re not a lot of things” You tried to keep your voice steady but it was already beginning to crack, your nails digging into your palms to keep from pulling him into you when he stepped closer.

“I’m sorry”

You remained silent, swallowing the lump that made your throat tighter, your vision blurry.

“I’m so sorry doll, please?”

You could hear the quiver in his voice, now barely a whisper, the sniffle between his words making your lip tremble.

“Please?”

The soft sob that slipped past your lips at his pleading voice broke Bucky, his legs giving way, desperate to take away everything he did to hurt you. He was on his knees, his face buried in your tummy, his tears soaking your shirt. His cries were muffled as he tried to burry his face in further, desperately clinging onto you while you hesitantly brought a hand to card through his hair.

“Why” You still felt like you had so many things left unanswered.

“It was never you baby” Bucky kept himself hidden from you, his arms hugging you tightly while continuing to rest against your stomach. “I-I kept everything inside and it spilled onto you, I don’t have the words- M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish because I want you, I want to love you, I want everything you give me, I miss you, I missed you, I shouldn’t have walked out, m’sorry”

You hummed, petting his hair softly, the simple action causing him to feel even more emotional.

“Please, wanna be your Bucky, please, I’m sorry doll” He nervously tilted his face up, his chin still pressed against your stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks. You placed your hand on his scruffy cheek, which he instantly leaned into, your thumb swiping away his tears.

“I-I’m scared” You said truthfully, every single fiber in your body wanting to pick him up and cling onto him forever but you were nervous. He walked out once...

“I’ll give you all the space you need. Just please give me another chance, it doesn’t have to be today or soon, just- I promise I’ll do better doll”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours to pull him to his feet, letting him sit on the couch with you. Bucky placed the flowers he was till clutching onto on the coffee table before sitting beside you, mindful to keep some space in between.

“I-I told Tony to pull me out of missions”

“What?”

Bucky nodded with a small smile, it was the first thing he did when he realized he had to take care of himself first before coming back to you. You’d done enough of picking up his broken pieces.

“The missions weren’t good for me. Too many, a lot of them triggering. I needed to pull back but I kept going. Didn’t stop until I ended up hurting you. Figured it was time I spoke up. Even started to see a therapist”

“You did?” You couldn’t help but inch closer to him, knowing exactly how much he struggled with opening up.

“I did it for me so I could be better for you” Bucky stated honestly; he made the choice to better himself because that’s what you deserved. “You don’t have to take me back right away-

“Come back home” You whispered, meeting his eyes with your teary ones, you’d take it slow if you had to but you wanted to do it with him by your side.

“Are you sure?” Bucky’s heart hammered out of his chest, not wanting to get his hopes up or make you feel like he was pressuring you, “I’ll wait if you need more time-”

“Come back home” You cut him off, biting your lip to keep from crying again, clawing into his lap, his arms engulfing you into a tight hug while you clung onto him, burying your face into his neck. He smelled like love, home, your heart. The feel of his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe and whole again.

“Come home, Bucky” You hugged him tighter while he pulled away, his hands moving to cup your cheeks.

“Bucky?” He whispered, having missed the way his name sounded, the softness of your voice, the way you fit with him.

“My Bucky” You nodded, letting your forehead rest against his, pressing a soft kiss to his nose.

“Jamie?”

“My Jamie”

“Baby”

“My baby”

“M’never leaving again, angel”

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc @buckybarnessweetheart @pandaxnienke @manyfandomsfanvergent

3K notes · View notes

lucysarah-c · 4 months

Text

“Then Lauren said—”

“Stop eating my carrots!” Levi slapped her hand away from the bowl.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, pouting at him as she remained seated on the countertop. She caressed her hand, but the pain wasn't real. “Why?” she complained, playfully pretending to be hurt.

“Because I’m trying to make myself dinner,” he replied, continuing to slice up the vegetables. He momentarily pointed with his knife toward the boiling stew on the stove. “And when I asked if you were hungry, you said no,” Levi added, pushing the chopped vegetables into the bowl.

His stern gaze was quick to return when she grabbed another carrot slice. “I’m not hungry,” she insisted with her mouth full.

Levi maintained his stoic expression, one hand resting on his hip. “Is this going to be one of those times where I ask if you want something to eat, you say you’re not hungry, and then you end up eating half of my meal?”

There was a brief, intense silence until she swallowed her food and replied, “I never do that.”

Levi simply sighed and bent to pick up an extra batch of ingredients.

“Where’s your squad?” Y/N asked as she swung her legs on the countertop. Levi kept cooking, both of them enveloped in the dim light of the almost deserted kitchen.

“No idea,” Levi replied quickly. “Until tomorrow’s morning practice at 6, they’re not my responsibility.”

His girlfriend chuckled. “I bet they’re getting drunk downtown.”

“Good for them. As long as they don’t break anything that belongs to me and they’re on time tomorrow, they can get as shit-faced as they please.”

“What if they break something in the barracks?” she insisted playfully.

“Those budget issues are Erwin’s problems,” Levi said.

She laughed softly, her laughter echoing in the empty, massive room meant to hold many more soldiers than just the two of them. “I went downtown. I met up with friends from other divisions, had lunch, went shopping, had tea, saw a theater presentation, and then had dinner. What did you do all day?”

“I did a deep cleaning of our chambers,” Levi replied, a hint of resentment in his voice. “Something you were obviously not going to do. I did laundry, cleaned everything—even the clothes I was wearing. So, I lounged in my boxers in my desk chair, catching up with a book and drinking tea. When it got dark, I turned on a light, swapped the tea for whiskey, and kept reading. I spent my free day reading, having zero human interactions, and not dealing with anyone’s shitty problems. Best free day I’ve had in months.”

“Does that mean you’re done with your tasks for the day?” she asked playfully, giving him a sly look despite him being engrossed in his cooking.

Levi quickly replied, “Don’t worry, I still have plenty of time to do you, girly.” The words didn’t match his uninterested tone and expression.

But it made her chuckle anyway, mostly out of embarrassment. She softly hit his arm and complained, “Levi! A cadet might hear you.”

A subtle smirk appeared on his face, but not much more. There was a brief, comfortable silence as he put the ingredients into the boiling water and stirred them around.

“You know, I want your opinion about something Juliet told me. So I want you to be honest, be yourself,” Y/N commented. Levi simply hummed in agreement, his eyes fixed on his upcoming dinner. “But be nice,” she warned him.

Levi stopped stirring his meal, looked up at her, and said, “I can’t be both.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever. She’s dating a new guy… and I don’t think he’s good for her.”

“Like the last ten guys,” he interrupted her, “in the last eight months?”

Levi wasn’t a social person, but he was certainly up to date with his girlfriend’s gossip.

“Hey! Are you slut-shaming my friend?”

“No, your friend can sleep with the entire male population of the walls if she pleases,” Levi said casually as he moved around the kitchen. “But she has this tendency to think each one is the love of her life, and they last two weeks.”

Y/N couldn’t deny it. She sighed loudly. “She’s… a hopeless romantic.”

“Daddy issues.”

She snorted and then chuckled. “Hey! She’s my friend!” Y/N tried to defend her, but there was no conviction in her words. “…She used to have a crush on Erwin, remember?”

“Exactly. Having a crush on Erwin is the definition of daddy issues,” Levi said with a playful smile as his girlfriend burst into laughter. “Am I wrong?”

“No, no.”

Returning to stirring before heading back to the kitchen board to cut the potatoes, Levi asked, “So?”

“Oh yes,” Y/N caught herself and continued, “Well… she’s seeing this new guy. He’s in his mid-thirties, and the way she described him made me realize he’s a fuckboy and—”

“A fuckboy?” Levi quickly snapped, looking at his girlfriend, who simply hummed back, not understanding his reaction. “God,” Levi raised his hand to press on the bridge of his nose and slightly shook his head. “Your friend really has a radar for choosing the worst dudes out there.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” she complained. “Let me finish!”

“There’s nothing to finish,” he said. “A fuckboy, for fuck’s sake,” Levi repeated under his breath, almost cursing at the idea.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“A fuckboy, Y/N, really?” He repeated, louder this time, as if trying to make her see reason. Not sensing her understanding, he sighed loudly. “I was a fuckboy when I was 18, maybe even into my mid 20s. Yeah, maybe I fought the MPs in the underground, smoked around, got drunk, had a bunch of casual sex, and got high with Farlan. But I was 18!”

“What does that have to do with any of this—”

Levi quickly interrupted, “18! You can be a fuckboy at 18, maybe until your mid-20s,” he said. “You can’t be a shitty fuckboy in your mid-thirties! That’s not a fuckboy, that’s an unstable, immature, stupid dude,” Levi explained as his girlfriend burst into laughter, with him continuing to curse under his breath. “At this rate, he’s having a fucking midlife crisis, not being a fuckboy.”

Her girlfriend kept laughing, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "So. What is the fucking issue? Don't tell me your shitty friend got knocked up by that idiot."

Y/N kept laughing, tears running down her cheeks as she tried to calm down. “No,” she whispered out of breath between laughs, “it’s the opposite.”

Levi raised an eyebrow silently, questioning what she meant.

“He couldn’t get it up.”

It was Levi’s turn to chuckle. “Well… you definitely can’t be a fuckboy if you can’t get it hard… that’s for sure.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @galactict3a @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

542 notes · View notes

letstripdotcom · 7 months

Text

truth- matt sturniolo x fem!reader

a/n- i’m obsessed with matt in this car video⬆️

summary- you’re curious on how good your sex is so you ask the one person who you know will be brutally honest.

warnings- smut. that’s all🕺🕺

“i wish i could be a man but not me so then I could have sex with myself and tell myself if it’s good or not” i rambled on the phone with one of my best friends, nick sturniolo.

“y/n what the fuck?” he laughed. “i mean i- i don’t know it’s just a thought.” i sighed. “well if i liked women i would have sex with you” “thanks nick” i giggled

“why not just ask someone you’ve had sex with?” he asked very casually. “i don’t know i just feel like they wouldn’t be brutally honest” “yeah i guess you’re right. i mean you could always just ask a friend do have sex with you” he suggested.

“yeah, but who?” there was a moment of silence and thinking “mason?” he tilted his head “i haven’t talked to him in months, i feel like that would be way too awkward.” there was another brief pause “noah is cool what about him?”

“i’m pretty sure he had something going on with paisley.” “well fuck” nick said. “well i love you dearly but i gotta go. talk you you later love youuu!” he hung up the phone. i sat down an let out a long sigh. i don’t know why i was so bothered by this.

i pondered on the subject for days, until i found answers upon overhearing a conversation between matt and chris. i didn’t hear the whole thing but i did manage to overhear matt say “do you ever wonder if your dick is too small but everyone who has seen it is just to embarrassed to tell you?”

matt! it was perfect. i needed answers and so did he. the plan was to have sex with matt and you would tell him if his dick is small and he’ll tell me if my sex is any good. but how would i even approach that? “hey matt let’s have sex because we’re both insecure” yeah no

i sat on the sturniolos couch as you waited for the pair to go up to their rooms. when they were finally settled in upstairs, i started thinking of how you were going to ask matt. i decided to just go for it.

matty b

you

hey matt are you up?

matty

yeah what’s up?

you

well this may seem insane so you can say no if you want but i overheard you talking to chris earlier and i was wondering if we could make a deal.

matty

i’m listening

you

so i was wondering if we could like have sex? and i could tell you if your dick is small and you tell me if my sex is good. and we have to be brutally honest

matty

upstairs in 10?

you

see you then.

i shut off my phone and mentally prepared myself for what was to come. normally having sex never made me nervous, but first thing, this is matt. second thing, he’s actually gonna be brutally honest. what if i’m awful? and as bad as it sounds, what if his dick is small?

after 10 minutes passed, i headed upstairs to matt’s room. i knocked on his door and he opened it shortly after, wearing grey pajama pants and no shirt. i examined his body carefully.

the veins in his tattooed arm that’s holding the door open. the way his pants hung low on his small waist, revealing part of his boxers. his v line. his messy hair. i started to get nervous. please don’t be bad. i said to myself.

“we’ll come in” he said nervously, stepping out of the way. “so how are we gonna go about this?” i shrugged. “well we could-“ matt stopped. his hand reached out and cupped the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss.

once i eased into it, it was nice. matt’s lips were soft and plump, and he was very gentle. his unoccupied hand made its way to my waist, gently rubbing it. his tongue grazed my bottom lip, asking for access to the inside of my mouth. i let him in, and his tongue explored all of my mouth.

matt was a really good kisser and it was really turning me on. he gently made his way from my lips, to my jaw to my neck. he suckled gently enough not the leave any marks. i let out a quiet breathy moan.

he positioned both hands under my shirt and slid it off my body. he started to kiss the bare skin on my chest. wow he knows what he’s doing. he guided me to his bed and sat me on top of him.

i raked my nails gently down his bare chest, meeting the waistline of his pants. i looked at him for permission to continue and he nodded. i pulled his pants off, leaving him in his boxers.

i leaned forward and kissed him, grinding on his bulge that was only being held back by one thin layer of clothing. he grunted which seemed like a good sign

he reached around me and unhooked my bra, sliding it off. his mouth left mine and attached to one of my nipples, his hand massaging the other. i tossed my head back in pleasure. “fuck mattt” i whined. he hummed around my nipple causing me to grind harder onto him.

he separated from my chest and looked me in the eyes. “ready?” he asked “y-yeah” i nodded. he slipped down my shorts and underwear and i removed his boxers.

his dick sprung up and slapped his stomach. i swallowed nervously. definitely isn’t small. all the more reasons to be nervous. i looked at it with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape.

“well?” he muttered. “umm..” i paused trying to find words “definitely not small. like at all. you have nothing to worry about” i rambled “okay” he laughed. “well, my turn i guess” i sigh, lifting myself up. i slowly start to sink my way onto him. he lets out a broken whimper.

“i- fuck f-feels so good already” he gasps. i exhale the breath i didn’t know i was holding. i adjust to his size before bouncing slowly, wincing at the slight stretch. i moan at the feeling of my sticky walls hugging him.

i gradually speed up my pace. his hips start to buck upwards, meeting me halfway. this helps achieve a deeper angle. “g-good. you feel so good baby” i moan and clench at the way he said ‘baby’

“keep clenching and i won’t last much longer” he breathes. “i’m so close” i moan. “fuck y/n” he whines. i clench again, my stomach muscles tightening. “f-fuck say my name like that again” i beg “y-y/n” he moans, his voice cracking.

i came all over his dick, my legs a twitching mess. “yes yes yes. fuck matt” i whine as i ride his to his release. “i’m cumming. f-fuck yes. oh feels so good” he shouts praises as he cums. i lift myself off of him and sit down, catching my breath.

“so?” i asked. “fuck that was amazing, you have nothing to worry about. he lets out shaky breaths and collapses into my chest.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n- didn’t know how to end this but enjoy 😜

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo

802 notes · View notes

bandgie · 2 months

Text

Buttons | ARMAGEDDON EVENT

Request: Wrath | Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ) by anon🎀! song!

warnings: MDNI18+, fem!reader, public sex, mean!yunho, pussy play, pussy slapping, nipple play (brief), PIV, cumming inside, no protection, ruined orgasm, squirting, reader is a menace, super slight, gagging

2.4k words

The best part about Yunho’s anger is that he’s never destructive.

He never yells. He never breaks things or makes a hole in the wall he’ll have to plaster later. It took what felt like centuries to control that sickening desire to harm when his top blew off. Yunho knows he struggles with keeping his cool in the heat of the moment, but at least he tries and tries until he succeeds.

He’s trying to control that anger now. Your manicured fingers feel over the crotch of his slacks repeatedly with that mischievous look in your eyes that only pisses him off more.

“I told you to stop that already.” Yunho isn’t looking to pick a fight at the movie preview. He was invited to watch a showing with a plus one, his lovely girlfriend. That’s the last thing you are, however, as you keep pestering him.

“Stop what? Can’t I touch my boyfriend?” Those glossy lips twist into a knowing smile. Yunho briefly looks down at the hand and forces his head back to the big screen. “You’re doing more than touching, you know that.”

Neither of you can speak that loudly considering the movie had already started and other invitees have been watching dutifully.

But you only hum, in agreement or disagreement, Yunho doesn’t know. All he can feel is your hand rubbing over his thigh to find where he might have hidden his cock. It doesn’t take long in the dark, especially when he’s sitting down which causes him to bulge.

He shoots you a glare. The pretty vein sticks from his neck as if he’s keeping himself from speaking too loudly. But you only stare back in challenge when you grope his cock. It’s warm even through the fabric. You cross your legs tightly and let out a tiny sound.

Shit. You look good. It was your idea to match tonight and you decided to bring out your finest black dress. It makes your boobs squish for extra cleavage that even Yunho had a hard time looking away from. Now it’s all he sees as he peers down on you, switching between your breasts and smooth thighs that continuously rub together.

His jaw ticks.

“Babe,” he leans down, burying his nose in your hair and getting a whiff of your rose-scented strands. “You’re pissing me off.”

But like a child who finds joy in pulling a cat's tail, you grip him harder. “I am? Why? Do you want me to blow you instead?”

You have to keep in your laughter at his reddening cheeks. “I don’t mind getting down and dirty in the theaters. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“When we were high schoolers,” Yunho pulls away from your alluring scent to look into your seductive eyes. “We’re adults now. Act like one.”

You roll your eyes. If he truly meant that, he would have slapped your hand away the moment you began to feel him up. Instead, Yunho widens his legs and keeps still while you make him hard. It’s not as easy considering it’s a horror movie playing in the background, but your persistence pays off when you feel him throb.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” you whisper. It’s pure enjoyment you feel when his cock finally strains against the confines of his pants. When you could just barely make out the outline of his head from the dim light.

You use your thumb to run over the tip, over and over until Yunho’s breath gets caught in his throat and his hips instinctively raise off his seat.

As quickly as he feels pleasure, he feels infuriation. Something in his honey eyes snaps. You nearly yelp when he stands, pulling you along with him in haste and you don’t have time to grab your purse.

“Yunho!” You try to yell with your breath. “I almost knocked over the popcorn!”

He doesn’t say anything. Can’t when he's bubbling underneath the surface and his cock painfully aches against his boxers. You embarrassingly smile at the people in the theaters, giving a polite ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse us’ while Yunho aims for the exit.

You stumble over your heels and you swear they threaten to snap under your feet.

Wooyoung, a colleague of your boyfriend’s, gives you a weary look as if to say ‘you good?’ Yunho doesn’t pause to let you tell him that yes, you are all right.

You just probably won’t be walking for the next few days.

The halls of the movie theaters are much brighter, but just as quiet as inside. It’s now that you can talk freely. “You can’t just drag me outta the theaters right in the middle of the movie!”

He passes the main bathrooms, heading for the ones that are nearly abandoned way in the back of the building.

“But you can be a slut in the theaters. Is that right?” He turns to spare you a look full of annoyance, arousal, and everything in between. “I’ll give you what you want if it means you can be decent in public.”

Yunho yanks the door open to the men’s restroom. He doesn’t bother checking to see if anyone occupies the stall as he drags you in, capturing you between the sink and his arms.

Your dress had ridden up from walking so quickly. Yunho doesn’t allow you to fix yourself before he spins you around, facing your reflection. It’s him you focus on in the mirror though. His heaving chest and the redness of his neck only accentuate the veins there. He stares at the exposed part of your ass and wordlessly pulls the material higher until it bunches around your waist.

You jump, but arch your back to give Yunho a good look at your clothed cunt.

“What if someone walks in?” “Oh well.”

That makes you clench with something you think isn’t fear. “I don’t think this is a good idea. If you get caught-” But a slap to your ass shuts you up. It’s a yelp that comes out rather than the end of your sentence. You turn your head to see Yunho’s heavy hands soothing your ass, then grab it in a warning.

“Now it’s a bad idea? You really are trying to get on my bad side, huh?”

That isn’t true. Well, sorta. There’s just something about pushing Yunho to his limits that you love doing, which makes you get in trouble that’s worth it in your eyes. Deep down, maybe you did want him to treat you like this. But you just can’t stop yourself from pressing his buttons a little more.

You fake a pout. “I don't want someone walking in.”

You got him. He bares his teeth and reaches for his neck to undo his tie. It slaps against his chest before he finally wraps it around your lips. You cry out, tilting up as Yunho ties a knot to the back of your head. The silky cloth sits tightly between your lips, drool already beginning to seep from your mouth.

“Then this should shut you up.”

Putting his hands back on your ass, Yunho tugs your underwear down to your thighs. His fingers find your pussy before the cold air does and he’s pleasantly surprised to feel that you were already wet. The pads of his fingers rub circles on your clit.

The pleasure is immediate. You perch yourself on the counter and grind your hips in his hand, shamelessly muffling your moans into his tie. He lets you, despite his demeanor, and follows your movements. It only takes seconds for his palm to grow slick. He maintains his other hand on your ass to keep you moving.

You ooze with arousal, knowing that it’s Yunho’s hand collecting it all. You would feel bad, but it makes your cunt slide against it so much easier. He’s not applying enough pressure to make you cum, but it’s enough to make you desperate. To make your walls clench in hopes of being stuffed. You whine, looking at your lover in the mirror with spit seeping down your chin.

Even with his dark eyes, he laughs. The sound sends shivers through your body and you know his smile is far from genuine.

He pulls his hand from you, smiling wider when your hips wildly buck and your fingers aimlessly grasp for his. “No! Nonono! Yunho!”

The smile on his face disappears. It’s replaced with a stern look that makes you regret raising your voice. He whips you around, effortlessly planting your ass on the counter and ripping your underwear off until it’s nothing but a lump on the bathroom floor.

He pulls your thighs apart, staring at your core before he raises his hand and comes down on it.

You squeal. Your hips buck in the air as he comes down again, again, and again.

“Who” slap! “are you” slap! “talking to like that?” slap!slap!slap!

Strings of white cream connect to his hand every time he pulls away even for a second. It's hot pleasure that’s on the brink of pain when your clit throbs under his touch. Your cunt spasms and convulses. The makeshift gag can’t let you cry properly. All you can do is drooly apologize. Closing your legs isn’t an option. It would only make things worse for you.

“Shorry ‘m shorry!” You squeal again when his hand comes down, but he doesn’t move it from your core. Yunho flicks his wrist rapidly so his palm rubs tortuously on your pussy. It takes everything in you to keep your thighs from snapping shut. You lean against the cold mirror and try to keep your jerking hips under control.

Something not quite like an orgasm, but not quite like normal arousal builds in your stomach. It's a stark contrast to the painful pleasure on your clit. It’s warm, it’s sweet, and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You realize what it is too late. The only warning you manage to give is a wide-eyed yelp as clear fluid shoots from your cunt right onto Yunho’s fine tux.

It releases in floods. Making you embarrassingly moan and gasp for air as your stomach can’t help but continuously squeeze the squirt out. Yunho stares in awe, still flicking his fingers across your clit to help get it all out.

“Fuck!” You can feel your makeup ruining from your tears. “I dinn’t- Yun’o I dinn’t mean ‘o.”

It’s not anger you see, but a pleased grin. As if soiling yourself was the only thing that could have made him feel better. With his wet hand, Yunho undoes his belt. He doesn’t bother removing it from the loops as he tugs his slacks just low enough for him to pull his cock out from the slit on his boxers.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” But Yunho is anything but repulsed. He runs his flared head over your messy clit, watching little droplets of your juice dribble into the counter and his cock. “I have to fuck you.”

You can’t argue if you wanted to. The cloth between your lips is completely drenched with drool and your cunt is so sensitive that it can hardly feel Yunho tap his tip before finding your entrance.

It’s too easy for him to push in. There’s no need to stretch or warm you up when his cock can reach the hilt in one go. You gasp at the pressure, your hazy eyes meeting his fired-up ones as he quickly finds a pace.

Each thrust earns a moan. Each moan earns a thrust. You grip onto his broad shoulders that easily cover your entire body as your body bounces. He groans, reaching for the top of your dress to spill your tits.

They’ve been hard for what seems like hours. Your nipples beg for attention that Yunho happily gives. He leans his head down to suck on your bud, rolling his tongue around the hardness while keeping his hips pounding into yours.

You clench around him. Your back naturally arcs into his form as he tugs on your nipple. None of the sounds you make are pretty. It’s all whines and gasps from the constant way he slams into you.

Yunho lets go of your nipple, pressing a last kiss to the one he neglected in apology before raising back up again.

He’s going to cum. You can feel it in how his thrusts turn sloppy and his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure. His hands find your waist as he moans, screwing his eyes shut and throwing his head back.

Every pump resonants in the empty bathroom. You can feel his pelvis touching your clit with every thrust and you know you’re not too far from your own orgasm.

He looks down at you, deciding it’s your tits (and face) he wants to look at when he finishes. You think he might kiss you with how he’s begun to lean towards you, stopping just inches shy from your mouth.

Everything feels warm. Yunho reaches down a hand to play with your clit. You wrap your legs around his torso as your high approaches closer. It’s Yunho who cums first. He finishes inside, ignoring how you can’t pucker your lips or you can’t beg for a kiss with how much you’re moaning and the tie in your mouth. Instead, Yunho spurts his cum deep in your pussy with a knowing smile. The blood vessels on his forehead sticking out with how much he pours into you.

Still, you cum with him. Your walls clamp around his cock as he rides out his high. He stops too soon though. There’s not a chance to come down from your orgasm as Yunho cruelly pulls out of your needy cunt, ignoring how it squeezes him to stay and finish what he started.

You cry against the gag, trying to keep your legs wrapped around his hips that he easily pries apart.

His cock shines with your arousal and cum, with the orgasm he ruined perfectly.

Yunho scoffs at your whining form, the crocodile tears he’s learned to not be affected by. “What? Don’t tell me you thought I was gonna let you make more of a mess.” You were planning on begging when he finally untied the tie from your lips, but he shushes you with another slap on your cunt.

“You just want to piss me off today, huh?”

#smut #atz smut #ateez smut #armageddon event!#Yunho atz #Yunho ateez smut #Yunho smut #yunho ateez #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho ateez

386 notes · View notes

harryistheonlyoneforme · 1 year

Text

maison*

warnings: smut, sleepy sex, creampie, cockwarming

summary: in which harry returns home after being away and just wants to be close to his wife

pairing: ceo harry x reader

a/n: maison is the french word for home

blog navigation | masterlist | taglist

yn stirs awake as she feels the bed dip beside her, jostling her body just a bit. her eyes are still closed despite her being mostly awake, and she nearly jumps out of her skin as she feels warmth hover over her before arms are being wrapped around her. she finally pops her eyes open when she can feel harry breathing against her face, something she absolutely hates.

“i’m sorry, honey. didn’t mean to wake you, just wanted to love on you a bit,” he apologizes, but she knows he can’t feel too bad as he begins peppering sweet kisses all over face and down to her neck. he smiles against her as she huffs halfheartedly, taking a glance around the room and seeing that the sun is out, but not too bright. she knows that his flight landed at 5am, so it should be around 6 now.

“‘s too early,” she groans, but she can’t stop herself from reaching up and playing with his hair a bit, following his head as his kisses get lower and lower the more feverish they become. she has a bad habit of falling asleep straight out the shower without putting clothes on, and for once harry doesn’t give her a lecture about if something happens while she’s sleeping; this time, he uses that to his advantage.

he hums against her skin before nipping at her bare shoulder. “never to early to love on my wife, missed you so much,” he mumbles. he’d been gone for an entire week in another state for a press conference, and they’d only been able to sneak in some brief calls in between speeches and before he heads to bed. all of the fancy dinners and boring conversations only made him miss her that much more.

she wraps her arms around him but ultimately loosens her grip when he goes lower, his kisses traveling to the dip between her breasts. her breathing is picking up now, her back arching up into him just a bit when he ghosts right over her nipple, but his lips move to the skin right around it. that pulls a whimper from her chest but he doesn’t pay any attention to it as he moves lower and lower, past her belly and her hips, until he’s eye level with her center but he doesn’t do anything.

“missed you too. please, do something,” she’s growing desperate now, the amount of teasing irritating her just a bit. he woke her up but is teasing her, it’s unfair.

“yeah? y’gonna let me make you feel good? gonna let your husband take care of you?” he rasps, feeling his cock twitch against the sheets. she only whines and nods in agreement, bucking her hips to meet his mouth.

“yes, i want that,” she gasps, feeling him gently nip at one of her dampening folds before spreading her open to get a good look at her clit. she shakes her head at that, though, tapping his shoulders to get his attention. “no, don’t want you to eat me out, need you inside,” she explains, and harry grunts in annoyance as he’d take any excuse to have his face between her thighs but he can never say no to her.

“y’such a brat,” he rasps, but his words hold no weight as he slips his boxers down his legs and kicks them somewhere at the foot of the bed. he begins to move up her body until he’s lying beside her. “roll over, gonna take you like that,” he instructs. she’s immediately turning over until they’re face to face and getting comfortable, and harry wastes no time in propping her leg up over his hip. angling his hips, he swipes the head of his clock through her folds, pulling a whine from deep inside her chest.

pressing his lips to hers, he lines himself up with her before inching in slowly, the both of their mouths falling open at the slight stretch. she feels so warm around him and he makes her feel so full. he gives her a moment to get accustomed to him before he’s holding onto her hip and pulling out just a bit and pushing back in m, even deeper. that single thrust sends her reeling, her hands flying to his shoulders for a bit of stability as he starts to fuck her.

“feel so fuckin’ good around me, ‘s unreal,” he gasps against her lips, pressing kisses to her open mouth. the moment the praise leaves his lips, the loudest moan he’s heard all night falling from hers. she couldn’t speak even if she wanted to, the way he’s filling her so deeply taking her breath away. the two fall into silence as harry keeps an eye on her to monitor how she’s reacting to him, save for the sounds of their moans and grunts with each meeting of their hips.

he knows she’s close when she gets this deep furrow in her brows and her leg twitches slightly against his hip, but he doesn’t even need to coax it from her any longer as she just tenses up against him and locks down on his cock with no further warning.

“that’s it, angel. i’ve got you,” he coos, holding her tight against him as she finally lets go, the evidence of her orgasm being the ring of arousal she leaves at the base of his cock when she does. his thrusts never falter as he works her through the entire thing. not until he can feel the beginning of his orgasm creeping up on him. “feel so good around me, gonna fill you up,” his words are choppy as his cock begins to twitch inside of her.

he can’t even provide her with anymore words as his orgasm takes over, a broken moan leaving his lips as his cum leaves his tip in warm spurts, her still fluttering hole milking him as he fills her. he continues gently rutting into her until he has no more left in him, slumping against the pillow when he’s finished. he doesn’t want to pull his softened cock from her but he knows the position will get unbearable after a while, so he makes the decision to move them.

holding her tight and rolling them over, harry maneuvers them until he’s on his back with her stop him, making sure he stays inside her the whole time. the angle change makes her whine in overstimulation but he’s shushing her with a kiss to the top of her head. “i know, ‘m sorry. just gonna stay like this now, i won’t move again,” he promises.

a chill runs through her body and she starts to shiver against him, causing him to frown slightly before reaching for the blanket to cover them with. once she’s warm, she’s out against his chest in mere minutes, her soft snores tickling the light hairs on his chest. he just takes a few moments to admire her, his eyes taking in every single one of her features as his eyes get heavier and his breaths begin to even out. the last thing he sees before he succumbs to the slumber is the little subconscious scrunch of her nose as she feels his breath on her face, and a small, lazy smile forms on his face as his head falls back onto the pillow.

2K notes · View notes

johnbrand · 2 months

Text

Screen Froze

Podcasting had become inescapable in recent years. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on...well everything. Politics, world sports, cooking, an obscure movie from 1978 only released in a now-extinct language. If it could be covered, it would be. And one could find this content anywhere across the internet. Youtube, social media, even streaming services promoted their podcasters. Everyone was watching everyone talking.

Of course, with so many different podcasters flying about, it was difficult to actually spot out talent. And from a sociologically micro perspective, it was even harder for individuals to find podcasters discussing the content they actually wanted to hear about. The more unique the niche, the less people one could happen upon to be talking about it during their recorded stream of consciousness. It was a simple formula, but it forced individuals to browse for hours or even days to find what they were searching for.

Sometimes though, people could not hold such patience. They would not wait for their new hero, a disciple preaching their values and morals to audiences around the globe. They would skip past one livestream discussing the economics of green villages in Switzerland to the next debating the potential existence between a minor character in two separate fandom universes. They could even perhaps land into a podcast like Sean’s.

“Most people just don’t understand the Soviet Union’s impact on architecture,” the measly, pale nerd innocently commented. A little shy in front of the camera, he was only able to relax a bit when discussing his favorite topics. Sean dressed in theme too, wearing a brutalist-like business casual outfit, a trait his small but dedicated fanbase adored.

“There were a lot of architects that really shaped this movement from all around the world,” Sean continued. “But today, we are just going to focus on those from the USSR.”

So what happened when one’s patience dried up? Well, everything was brought to a halt.

DragonHeart49: anyone else’s screen freeze? superduperloverboy: mine too <3bitsandmore: sean, I think ur glitching out

With the screen frozen, our impatient soul could now get to work. If one could not find the podcast they were looking for, then why not just create their own? Obviously, this did not mean constructing a podcast themselves, but rather alter the fabric of reality and completely realign another’s being to their preferred state. That was much easier.

Physical modifications were made first. A much larger body was necessary, something that demanded confidence and respect from others. Juicy pecs, rippling abs, sturdy legs. There was always something unreasonably fun in bloating the podcaster’s feet up a few sizes. An imposing frame to be craved by others, even when hidden underneath clothes, was priority. And speaking of clothes, those were quickly stripped down to less formal articles. Expensive branded tee, athletic shorts so small that boxer-briefs were visible, classic white Nike socks, all of it much more respectable than a button-up and tie.

This was not the impatient soul’s first time altering a podcaster to their liking, nor would it be their last. Physically at least, each of the end products were a little different. All alpha males, but just enough variation to not warrant any unnecessary rumors. This particular podcaster had his pre-American heritage redirected from France to India, the features in the screenshot tanning accordingly as a dark stubble acquainted itself along the sharper jawline. Of course, the bulge was accurately enlarged for geographical standards too.

Mentally however, all the podcasters could be considered copies. They each spoke of the same rhetoric, theories, and ideologies that our impatient soul wanted to hear. No matter how “backwards” or “hateful” their discussions were deemed as, nearly anything could be said by hulking bodies with undeniable charisma.

“These homos have no idea what they’re talking about!” Sanjay raged as the podcast restarted, his deep voice cocky and assertive. "Sure bro, I was just thinkin’ about a girl’s rack I saw earlier today but there's more to a girl than big tits. There's a tight pussy too!”

The chat section lit off with encouragement, their fates too having been altered.

MassiveFART69: you tell them fags bro! LOL XD crassmassschlongnator: we want to BREED THEM TOO!!!! <3TITSGALORE: JUST TALKIN ABOUT IT ALREADY GOT SANJAY GRABBIN HIMSELF AGAIN

Sanjay vacantly looked down, finding himself already subconsciously scratching at the thick bush within his shorts. He let out a hot protein fart followed by a laugh, his scratching slowly extending into groping his fat 8 inch babymaker.

“God, that was WET bros!” Sanjay applauded himself, his free massive hand swallowing the mic. “Anyway, I’ll catch you on the flip side dudes, gotta go hit the gym. Bros for life!”

There was a reason the traditional masculine movement was becoming stronger. Maybe it was because men were slowly aspiring to become the alphas’ equals, or because fags were beginning to submit to their nature. Or possibly, it could have been because each time a screen froze, reality was altered one click closer to traditional, normal masculinity.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf #breeder tf #indianization #fratification

311 notes · View notes

lacollectionneuse1967 · 10 months

Text

slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous

Theseus Scamander x Reader

“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”

summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene

part one / part two

Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so.

Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore.

But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.

Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you.

You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder.

“Y/N. Wake up, darling.”

You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.

You emerge from the covers and start to stretch.

“What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.”

You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.

“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.

“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”

Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.

“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.

“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”

It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence.

“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint.

When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still.

For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard.

“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”

It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.

At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.

—————

Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.

You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there.

It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.

"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.

“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely.

When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.

But you were a united front.

It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore.

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”

He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken.

“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.”

He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin.

-----------

Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."

You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.

"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"

Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."

You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.

You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.

"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."

"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.

Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."

He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.

"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.

"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.

Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.

Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.

“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"

Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."

“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”

Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”

“Theseus, please-"

“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”

“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"

“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.

Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not.

“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.

Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either.

"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"

Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.

"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."

------------------

Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.

The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.

You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.

As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.

Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.

You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.

You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.

You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.

"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.

"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.

You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.

The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.

He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.

Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.

"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."

The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.

"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."

Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.

Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.

"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.

Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.

"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.

"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"

That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.

He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.

And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.

Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.

"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"

You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.

Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.

You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.

It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.

You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.

"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"

Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.

"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"

"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"

Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.

"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."

"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.

He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.

He pulls away again with a pant.

"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.

"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.

You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.

“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside.

"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.

But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.

He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.

Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.

You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.

He flashes you a lazy smile.

“What? You want me to help you put it in?”

You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?

"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.

He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.

He's looking directly into your eyes.

“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.”

You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.

His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.

"Say my name," he says.

When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.

"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"

You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.

Your head spins, you're seeing stars.

"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"

You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.

He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.

Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.

"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.

A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.

"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."

Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..

You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.

Could he love me? Could I let him?

"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.

But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...

part three here

author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry... please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too! as always, feedback is welcome <3 taglist: @mystic-mara

#theseus smut #theseus x reader #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #hp fic #fantastic beasts

1K notes · View notes

spiderbeam · 12 days

Text

pairing: bartender!reader x boxer!carlos with a twist

a/n: like two suggestive comments, lots and lots of flirting

In the two years since you’ve started working as a bartender, you’ve learnt the golden rule of working at a bar. You never, under any circumstances, ever say it’s a slow night. You don’t particularly believe in karma, but you’ve witnessed it one too many times. The bar is empty, the night is moving relatively easy, it almost looks like you’ll be getting home early—until someone speaks those damned words and all hell breaks loose.

You never say it’s a slow night. Never. And yet, as you’re wiping the countertop with a rag, the sound of Franco’s playlist has you nodding your head to the beat. The dim red and blue lighting of the bar has long since stopped giving you headaches, and the bar is surprisingly empty—even if it is a Wednesday night.

You don’t say it. Not out loud, anyways—but the thought crosses your mind. It’s a slow night.

“Hey,” you hear Franco call as he turns around the corner, a tray with dirty shot glasses in hand and a rag slung over his shoulder. He nudges his head somewhere behind you, a mischievous glint in his eye as he says, “your guard dog’s here.”

You try not to make your smile too evident as Franco heads to the back. And where he was blocking your view just a moment ago, you spot that all-too familiar head of dark brown hair. He meets your gaze, and offers a small casual wave.

You smile, throwing your rag over your shoulder as you walk towards him. “Hey, look who it is,” you say as you walk towards him, standing behind the bar. “It’s been a moment since I last saw you around here.”

Carlos nods. “Yes, it’s—” he chuckles, shaking his head a little, “it’s been a busy couple of weeks.”

Even from behind the counter, you can spot his gym bag propped on the stool next to him. His hair looks disheveled, you note—not that you’re complaining. “Lot of people wanting to get into boxing lately?”

He smiles into his glass. “You could say that.”

You tilt your head slightly, taking your chance as Carlos glances towards the opposite side of the bar. The red and blue lighting really do wonders for him. The line of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his lips as he takes another drink.

You’re not blind. You know Carlos is attractive—which is why you don’t doubt there are more than a couple of people taking boxing lessons with him for reasons other than wanting to learn how to box. Not that you’re in any position to judge—it’d be hypocritical of you. Especially when you’re already checking him out now that he’s not looking.

He turns his doe eyes back to you, and you find yourself smiling. “And here I was, thinking I was special,” you tease.

He arches a brow slightly, and you take pleasure in watching how the corner of his lips quirk up. “Oh, you are.”

“Mhm.” You shake your head with a laugh. “I’m sure you tell that to all the girls taking classes with you.”

You reach behind you for a glass and a bottle of the tequila you remember him ordering last time. When you turn around, you find Carlos staring at you with his big arms folded over the counter, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Stray tufts of brown hair are an inch away from blocking his line of sight, and you have the brief urge to brush them away. Carlos doesn’t seem to notice. “Am I that transparent?”

“Only a little.” You pour his drink, feeling his eyes on your face as you do so.

“Well, it’s only fair,” he says, and there’s that tone to his voice that sends your stomach into a tailspin.

“How so?”

He raises a brow. “Well, I bet you’ve got half your regulars here tripping over each other to buy drinks from you in hopes of scoring your number.”

“You mean it’s not my abilities as a bartender that keeps them coming back?” You smile, leaning your forearms on the counter, arms barely brushing against Carlos’. “It’s hardly my fault if they think my number’s on the table. And if some wannabe hot-shot lawyer wants to spend his money paying for my rent—who am I to tell him no?”

“So long as you’re making their pockets bleed,” Carlos’ accent becomes slightly more prominent after his second glass of tequila. It drips over his words, and you find yourself leaning closer to him.

You laugh. “Oh, absolutely.”

“So, does that mean you haven’t taken any costumers home yet?” He asks so casually, so mundanely, as if that very question coming from him doesn’t shoot warmth into your stomach. As if you’re not aware of this little cat and mouse game the two of you like to play. Toeing the line, flirting with enough deniability to pull back, to not make things awkward the next time Carlos decides to show up to your bar, or the next time you decide to schedule boxing lessons from him.

You look over your shoulder, making a quick check to see if you spot your boss nearby. You serve two shots, holding up one for you and offering the other to Carlos. A strange expression you can’t seem to place crosses his eyes. “That depends.”

He shifts on his seat. “On?”

“Have you taken any of your boxing students home recently?”

Carlos scoffs a laugh, and you’re glad it comes off as banter, and not as the question you’ve been itching to ask him since you last saw him. You still remember your last session with him—how, as you were walking out, you overheard a girl telling one of her friends that she’d be more than willing to help Carlos with his cardio beyond gym walls.

As soon as you heard them say it—among other things—you couldn’t help but look at the girl speaking. She was pretty. Very pretty. Pretty enough that you’d consider it if she was flirting with you at the bar. Pretty enough that it left you wondering whether Carlos would take her up on it.

You meet Carlos’ dark brown eyes over the rim of your glass. Fragments of girl’s whispered phrases come back to mind—his arms, his hands, have you seen him? I bet he’s the type that talks you through it—

You feel heat climbing up your throat just as Carlos chuckles. “No,” he says raising his glass in unison with you.

He doesn’t drink. Not until you match his answer with, “Good to know.”

He rolls his eyes with a laugh as the two of you down your drinks. You don’t need to say it. And if Carlos’ shoulders seem more relaxed after that, you don’t let yourself feel too hopeful.

A beat. Carlos toys with his glass before clicking his tongue as he casts a look around. “Hey, is that guy from last time still giving you trouble?”

“Nah.” You shake your head, biting down your lips to prevent a pleased smile from spreading on your lips. “Pretty sure you scared him away.”

“That’s good to hear.” Carlos pauses for a moment. He looks at you from his seat. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, looking somewhat hesitant. He searches your face for another beat before he finally asks, “How bad would it be if I asked you at what time you get off tonight?”

You purse your lips, pretending to think about it. “Not sure.” Your fingers trail gently over his arm, and you don’t miss the goosebumps that appear on his skin in your wake. You meet his gaze. “I guess you’d have to ask me to find out.”

Carlos’ eyes flick down to your glossy lips, and you swear for a moment your heart stops. You’re both standing on the line of plausible deniability—after you cross it, there’s no going back.

“At what—”

Carlos phone buzzes next to your hand. Both your eyes drop down to it. Annoyance flashes across his features as he reaches for it. “Joder,” he mutters breathlessly, turning it around to check who’s is calling him.

You’re still tracing featherlight patterns on his skin, relishing in the way he seems to react to it. You flash him a cheshire smile, “Is that one of your students?” you ask.

Carlos exhales, his focus alternating between the contact name and you. “No—no, it’s…” his jaw clenches and unclenches, “…work.”

You stop your drawing of meaningless patterns on his skin, arching a brow. “You don’t look too happy.”

Carlos catches your hand in his before you can pull it back. His thumb brushes against the back of your palm. “I am not a fan of my boss interrupting when I’m talking to a pretty girl.”

“Ah,” you hum, and he pulls back his hand. Neither of you say it, but the two of you can feel it. That unspoken boundary snapping back into place. You find yourself missing the warmth of his touch. Still, you smile, “Want me to get you a drink while you answer?”

“Ah… no, that’s okay.” Carlos’ jaw clenches slightly as he glances back at the screen. He runs a hand through his hair, scrunching his nose frustratedly. “Just… I’ll be back in a second, okay? I—” he looks like he wants to add something else, but then a text flashes on his screen, and his teeth grind together. “I’ll be back,” he repeats, and you watch him walk out of the bar with his bag still left on the stool under your care.

Franco’s voice comes from behind you as he moves to take the dirty shot glasses from you. “Aw, gone so soon?” he teases, and you stifle the urge to shove your elbow into his rib.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, shoving him back anyway as you hear him making kissing noises as he walks away.

Carlos ends up coming back fifteen minutes later, looking more annoyed than you’re used to seeing him. By the time he comes back, the bar feels a little more crowded, but his seat remains unused.

He sits down, only to find you leaning against the bar, rag in your hand as you stare up at the TV.

“Crazy, huh?”

Carlos furrows his brow as you watch the screen, enraptured. “What?”

You tilt your head towards the news report. “Stolen paintings. Don’t know much about art, but I know what a million euros means to me.” As you turn around to face him, Carlos doesn’t look nearly as impressed as you do. You fold your arms over your chest “What about you? Say you get all that money. What’s the first thing you’d do?”

His gym bag is heavy on the stool beside him. You never ask what he carries inside it—that much should be obvious, right? He’s a boxing instructor, someone who works at the gym. And yet there are facts that slip past you. Like the fact that it’s nearly three am, that his gym closes at ten. That he has no business heading into a bar with a bag that he could very well leave in his locker. A bag that looks a little too heavy to be just gym clothes.

“That’s easy.” Carlos grins. “Buy a drink from you.”

a/n: heist!au is that you??? oh i’ve been procrastinating all afternoon on a test i definitely should study for but oh well. heist!carlos calls to me. i’m not sure whether this would qualify as a drabble or a one-shot (i write this on a whim so i couldn’t check the word count but i’ll add it tomorrow probably)

also that franco cameo was absolutely self-indulgent idc

#—carlossainz!#drabbles 🌧️#heist!au #heist!carlos #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x you #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #ferrari x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 driver x reader

170 notes · View notes

suspiciouslackofclowns · 3 months

Text

“You’re gorgeous.”

Lips brush softly against Billy’s temple. Fingers card into his hair at the base of his scalp, holding him like he’s something precious.

Billy scrunches his nose.

“Knock it off,” he scoffs.

When he bats his hand around, shrugging away from the touch, his wrist is snatched with a gentle grip.

“So fussy over nothing,” Eddie muses. He smooths his thumb from side to side against Billy’s inner wrist, leaning forward and planting another kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Why do you always get so grumpy when I compliment you, hm?”

Now, Billy’s brows draw together. Eddie kisses the crease, snorting into Billy’s palm when his free hand flies up to shove at his face.

“‘Cause it’s gay.”

“Well, I have some news you’re not gonna like.”

The brunet’s voice is muffled. He wiggles his eyebrows from between Billy’s fingers, and Billy only retracts his hand when lips press against his palm.

He makes a show of wiping his hand against the front of his shirt, and Eddie snickers.

“I don’t like it, okay?”

“Don’t like kisses? Blondie, I’m wounded.” Eddie closes the short distance between them, crowding Billy against the headboard. “You sure seemed to like ‘em a minute ago when I was—“

“Shh, stop,” Billy interrupts.

He can feel his skin grow hot when Eddie cracks a face-splitting grin, so close he can almost taste it.

In the back of his mind, on loop, is the sound of the headboard thunking against the wall over and over. The box springs creaking. Those damn fucking handcuffs rattling around his wrists.

As if sensing how deep his embarrassment runs, Eddie reaches up to tuck a curl behind Billy’s ear.

Just enough softness to cut the edge. Always.

“C’mon, you know how pretty you are, how can you expect me to not wanna smooch all over your face?”

“I said knock it off,” Billy warns.

Eddie stays close. Lingering well within the short reach of Billy’s personal bubble, but his expression dulls ever so slightly. Like a switch being flicked off, the light behind his eyes vanishing.

It has Billy holding his breath.

“Do you think we’re doing something wrong?”

The brunet’s voice is lower than before. Quieter. Billy opens his mouth and closes it again, looking for the answers in the other’s expression.

When he doesn’t provide a response, Eddie huffs amusedly and tilts his head to the side. Releases Billy’s wrist in favor of interlacing their fingers.

“Just ‘cause you don’t want love to come your way doesn’t mean it won’t, y’know.” He leans back against his free hand, giving Billy adequate space to breathe, and chews his lip in brief thought. “Don’t have to be naked to be loved, either.”

For a long beat, Billy just stares. He almost wants to run to Munson’s bathroom and look in the mirror, just to check and make sure his thoughts aren’t written all over his face for Eddie to read aloud. It’s a silly urge, all things considered.

He’s sitting in a trailer that he spends more time in than his own bedroom, wearing a stupid t-shirt and boxers that aren’t his, surrounded by pillows that he forced Eddie to buy because one pillow just wasn’t up to code.

The devil is in the details, and suddenly the air feels thin.

Even with the small space between them, Billy is still boxed in with no feasible way out. He furrows his brows and clenches his jaw.

“You don’t love me,” Billy spits.

Then Eddie laughs and it brings his blood to a simmer.

“I kinda do, though,” he lilts. “I get this happy little rush whenever I see you, I think about buying you cassettes and other shit with my negative account balance, and I quit lookin’ at nudie mags a little while back. If you’re mopping up what I’m drippin’.”

He fucking winks and Billy’s sure his face is redder than a tomato right now.

“What do you look at?” he hears himself ask.

His voice sounds far away over the thundering in his ears. Eddie snickers and leans over towards the edge of the bed, pulling the top drawer of his nightstand open and routing around.

How he keeps track of anything in this room is beyond Billy. Still, he manages to produce exactly what he’s looking for; a Polaroid.

Eddie sits back up, looking over the picture fondly for a moment before he hands it over. Billy accepts it with shaky hands.

The camera has made it into a few of their sessions before. For later, Eddie always says, and then snaps the most diabolical picture any lens has ever seen. The pervert probably has a whole shoebox full of them by now.

Not that Billy would ever ask to see.

He’s expecting something filthy when he turns it over in his hand. A shot of cum all over his face, or his mouth full of cock with a fist in his hair, shoving him deeper. The last thing he needs to see right now.

Instead, it’s an image of him smiling. Fully clothed. Eyes shut, and crinkled at the corners.

He looks genuinely happy, and he can’t even recall when the picture was taken. All he can deduce from the background is that he’s in Eddie’s room.

Go figure.

“We were smoking,” Eddie says, leaning closer to tip the picture down so he can peak at it once more. “One of those first times, before we ever did anything, and you were so giggly. Laughed at damn near everything I said, and I knew I wanted to remember that sound and how pretty you looked when you smiled all big like that.”

“Wanted to remember?”

“Mhm, you immediately smacked the camera out of my hand and yelled at me,” Eddie snickers. “Wasn’t sure I’d get another opportunity.”

He sighs fondly, like that’s endearing to him, and Billy presses his lips into a line.

“You jerk off to this?”

“Well, when you say it like that—“ Eddie pauses. Dawns a bit of a blush and shrugs one of his shoulders, still peaking at the picture. “You look relaxed. Totally at ease and happy, and it just gets me excited, I guess.”

Billy nods.

“How many times have you whacked to it?”

Eddie clears his throat and averts his eyes, sitting up straight reaching to toy with a lock of his hair.

“Like, uh, I dunno. A lot?”

“What’s a lot?”

Briefly, Eddie’s eyes flit back to Billy’s, and he looks away again. Tugs his hair in front of his face to hide his rapidly reddening complexion.

“Maybe something like 20-ish?”

Billy’s brows shoot upward.

“20 times?”

“Just counting the times I’ve used it exclusively.”

“Christ.” Billy shakes his head, spreading the faintest hint of a smile. “No wonder you keep saying you like me so much, you fuckin’ Pavloved yourself.”

“No, I felt that way the first time!”

Billy laughs, and he doesn’t miss the way that Eddie stares at him through half-lidded eyes. Like he just did something sexy with the intention of getting a rise out of the brunet.

It makes everything too real.

The air between them is suddenly hot again like it was mere minutes ago. Billy swallows thickly.

“That’s really your ultimate fantasy? Making me happy?” he asks. Glances back down at the picture. “More vanilla than I would’ve guessed.”

“Oh, you saying I can’t fuck you nasty and make you happy at the same time? That’s a challenge I’m willing to accept.”

Eddie crawls closer again. Dips down to nudge his face into Billy’s chest like a cat, pressing kisses against the worn fabric of his shirt.

When a hand brushes up his side, Billy goes rigid. Takes a few calming breaths and fights the urge to squirm away when Eddie kisses at his collarbone. He warily pushes his fingers through the brunet’s hair instead, cradling the base of his scalp.

Because maybe he’s something precious, too.

“You’re weird, Munson.”

Eddie chuckles, nosing fondly at his neck.

“You’re gorgeous, Hargrove.”

#mungrove #billy hargrove #eddie munson #fluff and angst #internalized homophobia #getting together #ficlet #my writing #unedited

238 notes · View notes

nocturnalcharm · 23 days

Text

Faking It - Part Two (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

𐙚 prompt: part 2 of this fic! 𐙚 cw: smut!! unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), rough, name calling, blowjob, hair pulling, dom!logan sub!reader, creampie, hehe 𐙚 a/n: thank u to everyone who asked for a part 2 :) sorry it’s kinda short, i felt so bad ab making everyone wait :(( i’ve been writing for 10+ yrs for fun but ive never written a smut before so im aware its not the greatest but ill get better with practice :,)

**Tumblr will not let me tag anyone and I cant figure out why! I apologize for not tagging anyone who said they wanted to be tagged**

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

It slipped out of your mouth before you even knew what you were saying. Your face burned hot, hoping he would think you were just joking and ignore it.

But you weren’t. You might not have meant to say it out loud, but it’s definitely how you felt.

“That so, huh?” You could tell from his voice he had a smug look on his face.

You turned over, laying on your back and looking at him. “Maybe...”

“Y’know, I could tell something was different today.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“That tiny little bikini. You sitting in my lap. These adorable little panties that you're wearing.” His fingers slipped under the sides of your underwear, daring to pull them down. “Do you have any fucking idea what you do to me?”

You stared at him. Most of those things were just purely coincidental, but you didn’t care anymore. You two were finally recognizing that it wasn’t hate or annoyance between you both… It was lust. It was desire. It was need.

You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down into a fervent kiss. It felt so right. You gasped for air in the brief moments you two pulled away.

You pushed him over, so he was now on the bottom, and straddled his waist. It only made the make-out hotter, physically; The room felt like it was on fire. You started to grind your hips down onto him, and you could feel how badly he wanted you through his pajama pants.

You started to slowly kiss your way down to his hips, taking your time.

“Enough with the teasin’.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, as you slowly pulled down his pajamas and boxers, only tormenting him more. Once his cock was free, you silently gawked at his size. You took him in your hands, stroking him a few times before trying to fit him in your mouth. You sucked on his tip and he moaned.

The sounds he let out were like music, causing you to work hard, wanting to hear it again. You continued to suck, adding more and more of his length into your mouth, and using your hand to jerk off what you couldn’t fit.

His hands found their way to your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail and helping you bob up and down. He pushed you down slightly further, making you deepthroat him. You gagged, instinctively, and pulled away to catch your breath.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “I’m sorry. Was that okay?” He was clearly worried he’d hurt or upset you in some way, considering you two hadn’t exactly gone over your boundaries. It was sweet, how he was checking in on you. But you didn’t want ‘sweet’.

“Just shut up and use me.”

Those words unleashed something inside of him. With his hands still holding your hair, he gripped harder, pulling you back to look at him.

“Oh, I see. You liked to be used like a good little slut, huh?”

“Mhm.” You nodded enthusiastically.

“Good.” He pushed your head down, forcing your mouth to take his cock all the way down your throat. You barely had to do any work, as he used the grip on your hair to move you up and down. You could feel your panties getting wet just from sucking him off.

“You’re doing such a good job. You love sucking my cock, don’t you?”

You moaned around him in response.

“Say it. Say you love it.”

You came up just long enough to speak, before continuing to deepthroat him, “I love it.”

He let go of your hair, grabbing the sides of your face instead, and started to pound your throat. Tears formed in your eyes as you gagged.

“Your turn.” He growled.

“No.” You stopped. “I just want you to fuck me.”

He stared at you. “Then beg.”

“Please, Lo. Please just fuck me. Need to feel you inside me.”

“Take that shirt off.”

You slipped your tee over your head and threw it across the room. He stared at your bare chest, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it. He flipped you over so you were on your stomach. Then, he gripped your hips, pulling them so your ass was in the air. You felt his tip teasing your slick entrance. He pushed in slowly, letting you adjust to his size.

“Fuck. You feel so good. Like this pussy was made for me.”

He wasn’t even in all the way, before you pushed back, taking the remaining inches of his cock.

“Mm, such a good slut for me.” He groaned. He grabbed your hair again, and started fucking you at a harsh pace, pulling your head back. You moaned as he thrusted into you, unable to form any coherent thoughts. He felt so good inside of you.

After a few more minutes of thrusting and moaning, he pulled out and flipped you over again. He put your legs over his shoulders and immediately started fucking you again. Your legs started to shake.

“Takin’ my fucking cock like a good girl.”

“Lo, M’gonna cum.” You whimpered.

“Me too.” He grunted, “Fuck. Where do you want it?”

“Inside.”

He was a little shocked, but hid it from you. “Yeah? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes! Please, Lo.”

He leaned down, kissing you while he continued pounding. Your legs were up by your head. He pulled away from the kiss and held your legs down. His cock was hitting your cervix in a delicious way that made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

You clenched around him tightly as you finished, digging your nails into his back, and surely leaving marks for later.

He groaned as his thrusts got more erratic, then slowing. You felt his hot cum pour into you, as he fucked it deeper into you.

He stayed still for a moment, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, and he got up and wet a towel. He wiped you down, and you couldn’t help but smile. “So, how come we never did that before?”

***

The next morning, you woke up to your phone ringing. It was Xavier. You shook Logan awake and answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

“Good morning, Charles.”

“Good morning. The mission is over, so you two may head back today after check-out.”

“What? We didn’t even complete it?” You were confused.

“Yes. There is no mission. The real mission was to get you and Logan to get along and it seems that was accomplished last night. You two may continue to stay at the hotel until the original check-out date, 2 days from now, or you can come back today. It’s your choice.”

“I- Okay. Thanks, Professor.”

You hung up the phone, face beat red.

“I’m going to kill him.”

#saige speaks #wolverine #logan howlett #logan fanfic #logan fanfiction #logan fluff #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfic #logan x reader #logan smut #logan howlett fluff #bg3 #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine smut #xmen wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fluff

212 notes · View notes

forcedtogrow · 12 days

Text

FTM cock-shame, forcemasc edition

You’ve been going to the gym with your coach for a while now, he’s a bigger and more experienced lifter and has helped you push through every goal you thought was impossible to reach. After many, many weeks of watching your hunky coach glistening with sweat, you start to get curious about his tdick, if he’s big all over… He wears a packer most of the time to create a bulge in his gym shorts that makes it hard to tell, but one day he forgets to wear underwear and you catch him changing.

His soft is bigger than your hard, in every dimension. It’s honestly embarrassing that a guy like you is even considered in the same category as a guy like him—that’s what you think anyway. You’re getting hard watching his dick jiggle as he shifts his weight while changing, but it’s not like anyone will notice less than an inch in your boxer briefs. You look away in time so he doesn’t see you flush with humiliation for being so inferior, you didn’t even know bottom growth could look like that! I mean, you’re really small anyway, maybe half an inch? Most guys don’t get luckier than 1.5 inches even after years on T…but he is packing.

Your arm brushes his while you pull your shirt off and adjust your binder, he smiles at you. “Nice job today kid, I can tell you’ve been training hard between sessions”, he’s toweling off his upper body while he talks to you, flexing and contracting his arms, chest, his back—“you seem distracted”, he points out as you’re staring at his pecs, and coach flexes to emphasize he knows where your attention is at.

“I, uh, I’m ah…I mean I’ve never seen you change before”. You wish you hadn’t said it but when you start you can’t stop, “your bottom growth is fucking huge, coach. I didn’t think it could get that big”. He laughs and punches your arm harder than he means to, or maybe he wanted to hit you that hard. “It can, if you don’t mess around with that low dose shit, you could make way more progress if you doubled your dose and stop being scared of becoming a man”. Coach puts his hand on your shoulder and gives you a faint smile, like a good father softening criticism with love.

“You want to look like me right?”, he cups one of his pecs and runs his hand down his abdomen. “You want to get big and hairy,” he grabs your hand and rubs it against the coarse hair on his abdomen, “just like this right? And down here too”. You stop just shy of touching his dick. “What if someone sees us coach? I don’t wanna be the gym slut…”.

“You won’t be the gym slut, you’ll be my slut, but only if you up your dose and start growing for me”. Coach lifts you up and carries you to the back of the locker room, slamming you up against the wall. “Let’s play show and tell, kid. Show me yours and I’ll tell you how big you could get if you really wanted”. You pull down your boxer briefs to show the tiniest head of growth, like a mini dick-tip barely poking out of its foreskin.

“That’s it? Really?” He bends down to look closer, keeping his hands on your waist; you can feel the warmth of his breath on you. “It’s not like I can make it grow faster! It-it’s just growing slower cus I’m on the gel…it’s not fair to compare us anyway, coach. You have the biggest I’ve ever seen”, you can almost feel his lips touching you and suddenly your legs feel like giving out. “No more gel. No more low-dose T.”, coach rubs his bottom lip over your dick, making it twitch in a way you’ve never felt before. “If you promise to do your shots and turn into a big, hairy muscle man for me I’ll suck you off, and you can think about how much better it’ll feel to get a blowjob when you have a big fat cock like mine”, you start squirming your hips trying to force yourself into his mouth, but he easily forces you down with his strong hands.

“I’ll double my dose coach, I’ll do it tonight! I’ll let you put the shot in my ass yourself”. As you say it he starts to close his lips around you and gently circle your tip with his tongue, but stops abruptly. “Don’t get so excited kid, I’m gonna need a little more effort from you if you really want to show me how much you want to be a man”. Coach presses you harder into the wall, “see how easy it is for me to pin you? Don’t you wish you were strong like me?”. You start to moan and pitifully try to push him off of you, accidentally rubbing your dick against his thigh. “Seems like all you want right now is my mouth. Isn’t that right, slut?”. You let your mouth hang open and start rocking your body against your coaches hard, hairy thighs.

“I want to be just like you coach…”, you say moving close enough to kiss him, but he puts his hand over your mouth. “How about this”, coach moves down to your hips again, “I’m gonna suck your baby dick while you tell me how badly you want to be a big man for me”.

Coach starts lightly wrapping his lips around you, not sucking yet, just looking up at you like a muscle whore. “I want to be just like you coach, I want to eat and lift until my muscles feel like they’re going to explode”, coach starts sucking you off and doing this flick with his tongue…even his tongue is so strong… “I want to be be bigger than you, even if I have to quit my job and lift 24/7 and be an empty-headed muscle slut, only thinking about injecting myself with T and eating and lifting until the only clothes I can wear are XXL tank tops, I-“ you gasp as coach grabs your ass to push your cock harder into his mouth, sucking and slipping his tongue over your hole as the same time. “I-I…want to feel my dick getting bigger, I want to fill up your mouth with thick it is, I want to look like a real man next to you”. Coach keeps sucking and starts finger banging you like he’s possessed, you could not have imagined how sexy he would look with his shoulders flexed, veins bulging on his arms while he takes you into his mouth…red faced, sweating, gasping and moaning on your little clit-dick…

You cum so hard in his mouth you feel on the edge of blacking out.

“Now bend over and I’ll get the needle”.

#force masc #autoandrophilia #forcemasc #forced masculinization #ftm nsft #ftm top #ftm dom #ftm t4t #ftm sub #ftm ns/fw #ftm bottom #bottom growth #nsft tdick #tdick #cock shame #ftm4ftm

157 notes · View notes

victoria-grimesss · 9 months

Text

Ghost Headcanons ~SFW & NSFW~

masterlist

->Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

->Warning: MDNI pretty please!! smutttt, some fluff, romance, etc.

->A/N: giggling and kicking my feet

SFW:

He's a quiet, stoic, and serious man but somehow you worm your way into his heart and although he may have been annoyed at first, he had a feeling you were going to be an issue when you first met.

It was an intensely slow burn built up to your relationship filled with passed glances, touches that you wish were longer, and the sound of his commands lingering in your mind for longer than normal.

Eventually he asked you out, unconventionally. He marched right up to you after training, still drenched in sweat and asked you flat out. You accepted and from there grew something as incredible as it is intense.

100% scary guard dog privileges.

Walking at night is never scary when he’s next to you. His stare is enough to deter any wrongdoers, he walks on outside of the sidewalk.

He's quiet but don't mistake that for aloof. He's observant as all hell. Always watching out for you when you're out together. An absentminded action he says.

Not a big fan of PDA but he always has a hand on you at all times. Ushering you through a crowd he's got his hand on the small of your back guiding you.

He enjoys being seen with you, having you next to him and just being in your presence is all he needs.

He denies he gets jealous but when a guy who shows a little too much interest in you enters into conversation with you he'll come over just to puff up his chest and throw a heavily tatted arm around your waist. "A bit jealous Simon?" "Don't know what you're talking about love."

He has an insane amount of those mask that are strewn about everywhere, and they are all in a disarray of washed and unwashed.

He thinks it's cute when you put them on and mimic him, especially if you're not British and you mimic a butchered Manchester accent. It gets a laugh out of him.

Others adore the two of you, especially the rest of the 141. He has literal heart eyes for you, through his rough exterior he really does love you.

His love language is words of affirmation and actions. You'll wake up to some flowers and painkillers on the side-table after a particularly shitty day.

Even if he's in a hurry to get out of the door he will never miss the chance to give you a hearty kiss and tell you to have a good day.

He listens to classic rock, there's usually some form of it playing in the house, he doesn't like the silence due to the tinnitus from the field. The vibes are great in the house.

You can’t tell his mood over text AT ALL. He texts in short brief choppy sentences. He prefers phone calls.

Ex:

You: “don’t forget to take the meat out of the fridge when you get home, maybe swap the clothes from the wash to the dryer if you have time. I’ll be home around 6pm traffic shouldn’t be too bad. Insert story about your day.”

Him: 👍

Aggressively British, sometimes you don't even know what he said. You just stare at him. "Did you hear me love?" "I was questioning if those were actual words that just came out of your mouth."

Sometimes you wake up at 3am for water to see him eating a big portion of fries in just his boxers with just the dim light of a football match as a light source. You usually make eye contact once but say nothing then retreat back to the room. The first time you saw that you were convinced it was a fever dream.

Sometimes his jokes are worse than Price's. You laugh out of sympathy nonetheless. You're his #1 fan.

Speaking of Price, if you're on the team he won't let your relationship get in the way of his career or mission. You are on the team because you're capable and can handle the job at hand but he does keep close eyes on you just in case on risky missions. If you get hurt he blames himself. You reassure him it's just part of the job.

There was a visible tension between the two of you that was visible to the rest of the team before you got together. I mean Ghost stared at you a majority of the time when you weren't actively working. So when they saw the two of you coming out of the same room one morning it was a definite relief. "Oh for fucks sake it's about time!" "Shut it Johnny."

He either sleeps completely silently and still to the point you think he might be dead, to which to check on him and he just opens his eyes right away. You almost shit your pants. OR he snores like a train, this option is usually when he's safe at home with you and can relax.

He loves it more than anything when he can fall asleep on your chest with you combing your fingers through his hair. He swears he's never been more relaxed.

You never discussed children but you get small glimpses into dad actions when Soap is over to help Simon fix something that takes two. "Johnny are you daft? Hold the bloody flashlight straight I can't see fuck all with you shining it in my eyes." Soap is hysterical seeing him upset over a sink leak. "Yea yea sure LT." You just watch from afar, giggling.

NSFW:

He's intense, alluring, and dominant. He can last many rounds; he enjoys taking you every which way he can.

His voice.

He loves the effect it has on you, how he can pin you against a wall and simply stare down at you, drawing it out by raking his gaze from your lips and around your face not saying a work and just toying with you until he would utter a few simple words and have you weak in the knees. His ego is huge because he knows you find him irresistible.

Will come up behind you when you're in the kitchen, voice low and creeping right to your ear, low enough to hear the gravel. His hand would snake around you securing around your waist. All of your clothes end up on the kitchen floor, they look better down there anyway he said. "I'm a bit famished love, care if I take a bite?"

Confident in the bedroom, especially if you're vocal. He likes to hear how he makes you feel. In return he'll tell you exatly how you make him feel. "Gods love, you..fuck-fucking hell you're doing such a good job."

Sessions in bed are messy, hot, and sweaty. He plays dirty but matches what you give him. He won't degrade you, he respects you. But he is a tease.

Will tease the tip of it until you're begging and withering. "You want it say badly yea? Go ahead, tell me how badly you need it pretty girl."

His favorite positions would be doggy, missionary with your legs up around his neck or your ankles in his hands. He loves to see your reactions.

He finds himself sometimes lost in the moment, silent as he works on you. Eyelids heavy as he tries to commit this moment to memory, hands gripping you with fervor. His breath hot on your skin when he lowers his lips to your neck to leave his mark. "You're my good girl, such a good girl for me. Say it."

He may be dominant in bed but he lets you call the shots. If you need him and you're out at the pub just grab his arm and take him to the bathroom. Out on a late night date? His car is in the back of the parking lot, he's grabbing the keys and reclining the front seat. You've had sex in a supply closet once out of sheer desperation once.

Hates hates military galas, will really only interact with the 141 and some others if he has to but loves to see you all dolled up. His favorite part is smearing your makeup on the pillowcases afterwards though.

Shower sex is also an option, seeing you all soapy and wet really gets him going. Makes for easy cleanup afterwards too.

If you like his uniform he's more than happy to just bend you over and unzip the front of his pants. You’ve don’t it with the mask on more than once.

Gets off on going down on you. Could die doing it and die a happy man. He'll definitely get himself off while getting you off.

Enjoys a good blowjob every now and again, let’s you take the lead not a big head pusher unless you ask. He’ll do whatever you want.

Eye contact is a must. Missionary with your legs around his neck, and a hand around your neck making sure you know who's making you feel like this. "You love this don't you? Dirty girl."

If you're being a brat and he's had enough he'll just have you ride him, he'll put his hands behind his head and have you do all of the work until you get too tired to continue. You'll have to admit defeat. To where he'll take the reins by grabbing your hips.

If you have long hair he enjoys hitting it from the back and wrapping a majority of your hair around his fist and pulling just enough for you to make noise for him.

Definitely a mirror in your shared bedroom where he can sit you on his lap and you can both watch as you work yourself on him.

His eyes roll back in his head when he cums, his grip leaves marks. He enjoys finishing inside you, the closeness and intimacy makes his stomach burn in a good way but he’s all for pairing your ass or tits too. He’s not a picky man.

Aftercare king, although he likes to bask in the afterglow for a bit with you. You lay on his chest trying to catch your breath, the room is stuffy and warm and your heart is racing but you've never felt better. But after he cleans you up he'll come back with a good cup of tea to end the night.

tag: @chiharuthecatmom

850 notes · View notes