#love how he loved rhythm and blues

[ghost-facess]

brian jones is so, so pretty.

[waugh-bao]

Keith with Willie Dixon across the years

[rockybloo]

I need to draw Sweetheart and Bitterbat singing Alicia Key's Diary because it's such a good representation of both them.

Not in terms of the lyrics but how they'd sing in karaoke with Sweetheart being chill and hitting just the amount of notes she needs and Bitterbat throwing limits out the window and just going completely wild with that shit because he got the green light to sing with his girlfriend in a duet and he's not missing a chance to serenade his queen.

[screampied]

IDK HOW TO START THIS REQUEST🔥🔥🔥

Suguru fucking reader while they’re wearing his hoodie 🙏

see what I’m getting at right…..( + I hope ur doing good Vegas 🗣️ )

❤︎ ໋𓈒 suguru fucking you in his oversized hoodie

warnings. fem! reader, cowgirl, praise, dirty talk, choking, unprotected, mdni.

“you’re a dirty girl, you know?” and his voice, it was so smooth— a risqué rasp hides behind it as both of his hands firmly attach towards your waist. you’re suppressing moan after moan as you’re rocking back and forth against him, feeling him reach such deep pits of your entrance. your walls continue to clamp around him, squeezing him tight and it makes a low groan depart from his sheeny lips. “i… i’m startin’ to see why you like wearin’ my hoodies, sweetheart. so you can ride me with them on, huhh.”

he’s so hefty, geto was far more thick than he was long and the quaver you felt in your thighs had you aching…

he stares at you with the slyest expression. even something as simple as his gaze was sexy, he studied your frame and ran his fingers against the soft cotton fabric you wore. one of his old hoodies, a dark cerulean blue with a random band name stitched near the very back. “. . s-suguru,” you’d huff out, leaning into his neck to gingerly nibble against his skin. “touch me more, feel my body a little more.”

“oh but baby, you know i don’t like being demanded,” he replies cheekily, guiding your hips in such a way. he grips your waist, swaying them further against his lap and you moan at the way his stretch from his cock wore you thin. “if you want me to touch you more, you know what to do,” and he lightly grabs your chin, making you gaze right into his darkened irises. “pretty please, suguru. let’s start from there, hm?”

a tease—a simple way to describe geto, he loved getting under your skin.

you made it so easy for him too, his eyes mindlessly roam all over your body and he groans. something about seeing you ride him with his old hoodie gets him hard, you feel his cock twitch inside you before you grind just a tad bit forward toward him.

“pretty please,” you huff out in shortened breaths, clinging to your final pants. a simple thing as breathing was even hard for you, you’re having a competition with your own each breath, it’s cute. all you wanted was to just feel a hand of his skim all down your body, running down your waist, your thighs . . . maybe even between your legs. “touch me, sugu. p—pretty please.”

“gotta be more specific, princess,” he whispers, his voice still deep—sonorous with such playfulness behind it. you could listen to his voice all day, you’re steadily rocking your hips against him before he watches you grab his hands. still, man spread, he snickers once you slowly move his hands further down your waist. “mhm. okay, anywhere else?”

you bite back a moan, feeling the plump crown head of his cock thrash against your sweet spots repeatedly. you’re swinging against him each time you go forward and it makes him grunt. your rhythm was simply hypnotic. time and time again, you’re so loud and you squeeze a grip on his wrists before babbling.

“touch my thighs, a-and touch here,” he remains quiet, amusingly ogling at how handsy you are. his fingers trail towards the material of the hoodie, sliding underneath it before you make him rub against your bare tummy. “right there, sugu.”

“such a naughty girl,” he hums.

brushing his thumb against your waist, another focus near the inside of the hoodie, his touch was so warm…

geto grunts, leaning back with his legs all spread. his sweats were pulled me just briefly, and you’re riding him so good that you spot his adam’s apple poking out. you lean in to kiss near his neck and he groans, feeling the thrusts against him only get sloppier. “fuck, that’s it, girl. s-shit, fuck me like that, yeah,” and his lips were so close up to your ear. you’re a whiney mess, feeling his strong hips attach to your rotating hips before your hand ends up wrapping around his neck.

it’s unintentional— but he finds it hot.

you make direct eye contact for a short concise moment before you moan from his dick french kissing near your pulsating g-spot. “k—kinky girl,” he chokes out, hooded eyes never leaving yours. and his eyes shoot up the moment you find out he’s turned on. your rocking on his lap quickens at a more rigorous pace before he speaks in a husky rasp, “nah, don’t let go now,” he fake pouts, spreading his legs just a bit further. your fingers loosen against his throat before he holds your wrist. “choke me more baby, c’mon don’t be shy. you know what you’re doing to me.”

“you’re kinkier than me, suguru,” you pant, feeling yourself coming close the more you bounce on his cock. his thighs— it rubs against your skin, it feels so smooth. a smooth clean service, skin slaps and slaps and you’re so dizzy that your head spins— your mind’s going through a whirl, and he chuckles before slowly sliding his hoodie up towards your chest.

he grunts, a thumb exposing your breasts that flung against you with each move you make. you’re frantic, wrapping one arm around him with another tightening its grip around his pretty throat. “obviously. we know this, girl,” he jeers, and there’s never a dull moment where suguru geto is sassy. and he even shoots you an eye roll, arched black brows slightly forming into a furrow.

the sassiest.

“ooh,” he purrs up all into your right into your ear, an arm dangerously snaking around your waist. “someone’s gettin’ whiney. you gonna make a mess on me, princess?”

“y— yeah,” you croon out a whimper, the curve of his cock plowing right through you. your walls continue to squeeze him tight, hugging him like a vice before you moan right into his neck. “s-shit, ‘m gonna cum, sugu.”

his head throws itself back and it’s sexy, long strands flowing effortlessly— and he smells good.

his aroma was something you could never get enough of, so rich and elegant. geto wore the same cologne and it never grew old. he breathes through his nose before bringing a sharp spank to your ass. “fuckkk me,” he’d gruffly utter. he was approaching too— he felt it rising and rising, that familiar twitch in his right leg rapidly . you moan, feeling his dick frantically pulse right inside your cunt and you release your grip on his neck. for a moment, he stares into your eyes before grabbing your chin. “kiss me, baby. give me . . a taste.”

his words were a bit slow, he was growing weary himself but didn’t wanna stop. not now—not ever.

you lean in to give him a sloppy kiss, tongues immediately collide and clash against each other. geto’s breath was warm, his hands continued to slide up the hoodie before squeezing your breasts, fondling a bit with your perky nipples as you’re just about to reach your incoming peak. “baby,” he huffs out in short pants between each kiss. with his abs clenching beneath his shirt, you anchor a hand right through his strands as you start to suck on his tongue. only for a second, he groans—gifting your ass that same spank that makes your skin roughly ricochet. “. . uh, fuck. make me cum, ride me jus’ like that,” and his voice was the same low gruff but it sounds a slightly more . . needy.

he tastes candied, syrupy…

a lingering minty flavor resides on his tongue as your saliva mixes with his—a husked grunt gets caught in his throat. once he feels his base merely have enough though, he cums.

all inside you, you end up following shortly afterward and your body ends up spasming all on him. geto’s so pretty when he finishes. hooded eyes a low, he’s gasping for air once you pull away. sheeny glossed lips that were a bit marked from your lips attached to him, he pursed them together before feeling himself trickle inside you. “s—suguruuu,” you’d mewl out, bringing your hips to a halt as his fiery tip spits out thick amounts of velvety cum. it’s so full that you feel full, he makes you quiet by pressing a thumb against your lips, holding you close to yourself.

“listen to it with me.”

all you could hear was your pants and the subtle sound of his heartbeat— as we as geto dumping his seed into your walls, your finish was just as immaculate and euphoric. it’s so carnal, a hand runs down his chest as you lean forward to sneak a kiss near his chin.

“. . damnnn,” he breathes, holding you close. his thigh twitch and after a few long minutes he ends up finishing the last few drops inside of you, a hand grabbing your waist. geto stares into your eyes, a lazy pussy drunken stare and he slyly speaks in a drowsy tone. “you’re such a pretty good girl,” and he corrects himself, taking his hoodie off of you to fully expose your gorgeous physique. “. . . messy, but pretty.”

and you slip off a moan once he drags a hand down between your legs, two fingers inserting inside of you after he pulls out—swirling the inside of your entrance of the mess that happily coats his fingers before he takes his digits back out.

“you should wear my shit more often, princess,” he coos, and you watch as he slowly slots his slender fingers into his mouth. no shame at all that he was tasting the aftermath. his tongue gyrates against it before he takes it out abruptly, a long glossy strand of spit departing as well before he drags your lip down with a thumb. “open for me ‘n say ah. if i gotta taste how nasty you were for me, then so do you, princess.”

[irndad]

a/n: continuation to this, but you don't necessarily have to read it first! all you need to know is reader got shot protecting maeve, and both survived. spencer has been in love with her the entire time.

“Have you called Maeve?” 

She asks it on a beautiful, rainy day, about five weeks after the event in question. She’s a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, has been from the start- Spencer’s been correcting for that. He’s been treating her like something fragile, a beautiful glass figure that was almost shattered. This is something he knows irritates her, but how can he not?

He tries not to think of it, but the memory of her in a hospital bed, bandages over her abdomen, the wooziness of giving her blood. He can’t help his caution, now. People assume, quite often that Spencer was unaware of the fact he’s in love with his best friend. Like it was something he didn’t know, didn’t have to live with. 

Spencer can be oblivious about a lot of things, but being in love with the person he’s shared a desk with for 4 years is not among them. 

“No,” he replies, looking up at her as she sits down, handing him the cup of tea she made him. They’re at his apartment. She’s been cleared for desk work, but Spencer had been nervous about the whole thing. They’ve fallen into a rhythm of her going to his apartment after work, and for how determined he is to tell her how he feels, he’s not really able to pluck up the courage.

“Spence,” she sighs, “You have to call her.”

“I did! When it happened, I called her. We talked. We just don’t talk anymore.”

She furrows her brow in an adorable way, and Spencer’s heart threatens to fall out of his chest. He’s been playing a game of she loves me, she loves me not in his mind for the. Past few weeks. 

Took a bullet to see me happy. She loves me. 

She stirs her ceramic spoon, the clink of it against the mug fills the silence. She bites her lip, clearly disappointed with his response. 

Wants me to call my not but kind-of ex. She loves me not.

She’s wearing this blue floral dress, and he is trying not to stare at where the fabric has ridden up, kissing the skin above her knee. She’s got lipstick on, and he tries not to read into how she’s sitting so close to him. Except he is kind of reading into it. 

Before she got hurt, he had tried to shove this feeling down- tried to ignore the swoop of his stomach when she walked by, or when she gave him a compliment, or when she let him do a card trick for her. He tried to shove down how much he fucking hated it the one time she had a date pick her up at the office. 

She’s just easy to be in love with. She writes little smiley faces on post-it notes and leaves them on his desk, and when the whole Emily thing had gone down, she’d spent weeks taking care of him through her own grief. 

She’s sitting on his couch. Five weeks ago, she was half-dead in a hospital bed, and now she is on his couch, in a beautiful dress after returning from the job they both share. 

He does not want to call Maeve. 

The comfortable silence turns tense as the episode of Doctor Who plays in the background, and he’s still a little gunshy- she’s breathing, she’s okay. He feels creepy, but he lets his eyes close for a moment so he can hear the sound of her breath, to know it’s still there.

“Spencer,” she says, after she pauses the show, and he turns fully to face her, “I am okay.” She grabs his hand, and he takes a couple of seconds to process the touch as she places it over her own wrist. ‘I am fine. They fixed me up. You are allowed to stop worrying.”

Her tone is even, but intentional. She’s giving him permission, as if his presence is some guilt-driven notion that’s stopping him from getting what he really wants. It’s true, though, that he doesn’t always believe she’s okay. Notices how she’ll wince when she bends a certain way, and the scar by her eyebrow is healing well, but he still searches for it in her face.

He savors the feeling of the soft skin of her wrist under his touch, running his fingers over the junction of her hand and wrist with delicate affection. How she hasn’t figured out he’s in love with her is anyone’s guess. 

He wonders what it would feel like to kiss her there.

“I know I can call her,” he manages to say back, meeting her warm gaze in a maybe too honestly in love glance, “I’m where I want to be.”

“Before I got hurt, you picked out an outfit, you asked for advice on dating, Spencer. You did that. I just-“ she sighs, moving her hand from his grasp and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “The piece of you that wanted that is obviously still there. You don’t have to spend a Friday night with me in your apartment because you feel guilty that I got shot.”

“You’re not here because I’m guilty-“

“Then why-“

“You’re in my apartment right now because I am in love with you, and if you’re out of my sight for more than twelve hours than it’s like I forget that you’re still alive. That you didn’t get yourself killed before I ever got the chance to actually tell you.”

He’s not yelling. Well, he’s kind of yelling. Talking loudly, anyway. Her eyes widened and he’s hyperaware of how close she already was, is. She smells like lilies and her, and it’s all so present. She could have died. She might have never heard it. 

She’s heard it now, he supposes. All the weeks of agonizing, notebooks he’s managed to fill in the last few weeks trying to figure out a way to say it to her that could charm her into loving him back- all gone. He’s told her, now. 

All the cards are in her hands.

Her doe eyes almost sparkle at him, her head tipped to the side in a fond, loving gesture, and he wants to kiss her, wants to feel her faded-lipstick pout against his mouth. He wants his I love you to turn into I can have this. 

“Spence,” her voice is a trembling, insecure thing. One half of his mind wants to rage at him- there’s no way she’s going to tell him she loves him back, that someone like her could ever want someone like him. But the other half, one that seems dangerously like hope- she took a bullet for him. She didn’t even think twice. “You’re in love with me?”

It’s like it’s not even him who replies. Some bitter thing takes over his voice and speaks for him. 

“How could I not be? It’s you.”

It’s then he notices, that oh, she’s tearing up. 

A beat passes, and Spencer sucks in a deep breath before rambling an absurd amount. 

“You don’t have to- We can still be friends, obviously, you know that. But we can, I just- I needed to tell you because when you were in that hospital bed and you’d never heard me say it, I just couldn’t live with you never knowing. But now you do, and you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay-“

He doesn’t get to keep talking, because she grabs him by the collar of his shirt and kisses him. She’s warm and beautiful and her hair brushes up against his cheek and there’s something in him that takes over when he moves to  cradle her head between his hands, both desperate to keep her in his grasp and savor the moments he gets to hold her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and something completely undefinable. 

When she pulls away after a moment that feels entirely too short, heavy lidded eyes meeting his in affection, and Spencer thinks he’d like to do that for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too,” she says back, and he commits it to memory, the sound of her so-sweet voice wrapping around the words he’s fantasized about hearing since the first time she smiled at his joke about philosophy. “I’ve loved you a really, really long time, Spence. I just thought I lost my chance, you know with- with everything. I never really thought I had one.”

He can’t even speak, really. He doesn’t think he can wrap his head around the fact that she felt like he wouldn’t like her back. 

It doesn’t feel like a concern, now, when he leans in to kiss her again. She smiles into him, and Spencer memorizes the feel of her waist encircled in his arms, when he realizes that this is the heart he is able to hold without limits. 

She loves me too, he thinks. She is safe, she is okay, and she loves me back. 

On the following Monday, when Morgan sees the two of them with linked hands before Hotch gets to the office, he doesn’t say anything. 

He does hand Emily 20 dollars, though. 

[katiefrog217]

AziraCrow | Book Reading

(Scroll down for mini story vvvv) + (Companion Piece)

Aziraphale liked books, especially the old ones. They were the main reason for owning his bookshop, after all.

He loved reading them, too. Sitting quietly in the back of his bookshop with a good book and the occasional accompaniment of an old record made for quite the delightful evening, in his opinion. Despite his being handless (and therefore, fingerless), Aziraphale was perfectly capable of turning pages on his own. Not with his talons of course; Heaven only knew the trouble that would come from attempting to turn the aging and potentially fragile paper with such unreliable instruments. It would be a simple enough fix if a page did happen to tear, but the memory would haunt him forever. Instead, all it took was a flick of his wing and woosh, the pages would turn themselves. Sometimes he just had to ask nicely. However, there were times that he didn't need to expend the effort.

Those times just so happened to coincide with a particularly serpentine visitor.

Crowley's visits were irregular and not always predictable. Most of the time he would pop in to complain about Who-Knows-What and disappear off to Who-Knows-Where. Sometimes he would stay longer, and they would share a glass of wine or some other alcohol, chatting a lot about nothing and reminiscing about times long passed until the shadows grew long. On rare occasions they would sit in comfortable silence, doing nothing more than enjoying each other's company. Aziraphale would then pick a book to read and Crowley would slither over to join him.

Of course, Crowley didn't like reading - or at least claimed he didn't. 'Not worth his time,' he'd say dismissively. Still, he (bored expression and all) would come, make himself comfortable by coiling around both the book stand and Aziraphale, and just watch. Just about anyone on Earth would likely be uncomfortable being stared down by such an intense gaze, but not Aziraphale. Over the many millennia, he has grown used to being observed by those golden eyes. Dare he say, he even found it comforting in a way, but that was besides the point.

He wasn't sure how it started; perhaps Crowley found himself overly bored that day, but he began turning the book pages whenever Aziraphale raised his wing to compel them instead. It had started him at first, and he had looked to Crowley with much confusion, though the demon had nothing to say in return. He merely shrugged (or at least it could be considered the serpentine equivalent of a shrug) and turned away. A few more pages in, and he'd turn them again. This happened over and over until Aziraphale heaved a sigh gave in, allowing the serpent to do as he wanted. At first, it was quite awkward to give verbal cues, and there were times when he became so engrossed in his reading that he forgot entirely, but eventually they settled into a comfortable rhythm. Nowadays he didn't even bother. It had become almost automatic: Aziraphale would finish the page and it would turn, no questions asked.

Aziraphale suspected it would baffle the minds of many to see a demon treat anything so gently, yet Crowley turned the pages in such a way that they were never bent nor crumpled. In fact, it seemed to him that the older the book was, the gentler Crowley'd be. He seemed... 'content' was the wrong word to describe his attitude towards the activity, but he never said a word otherwise. At least, not to Aziraphale.

He never pointed this out, of course. Crowley would stop doing it if he did, and he didn't WANT him to stop. He enjoyed it too much.

Once in a blue moon, Crowley would make a comment about whatever Aziraphale was reading at the time. It was often snide, mocking, not always audible. Hisses of exasperation or an exaggerated eye roll were not uncommon either. Then he would turn away, bored despondence washing over his face, shutting down any attempts to further the conversation. Not that he would respond if Aziraphale did, though that hadn't stopped him from trying. On one occasion Aziraphale had tried to push the topic, only for Crowley to deflect, insisting that he had only glanced the passage at random. He stopped turning the pages then. Aziraphale never tried again and settled with only giving him sidelong glances when he said something particularly egregious.

And so they would read, the silence broken only by the ticking of an old clock and the occasionally rustle of a page.

...

Aziraphale liked his books.

He liked reading them alone in his bookshop.

But he liked them best when Crowley was there to turn the pages for him.

[samodivaa]

Bucky with an oral fixation due to his anxiety so you let him suck your big tits (smut)

Bucky’s heart may fail him in so many horrors—both in waking, from his nerves, and in sleep, from his nightmares, because the punishment of his disordered mind is its own disorder. A disorder nobody else has. There is no cure, but he is trying to master it, he is learning to live with it—just as he has learned to live with other storms of his mind. The impossibility of love? He has you now. The past can't be annihilated, it is a part of him. Regret, denial, sadness—it leads to anxiety and his habit of always chewing on something—gum, sweets. He holds his breath, a desperate attempt to slow down his heartbeat, a desperate attempt to get away. One second. Two seconds. The moment he chews on the pencil you gifted him for that purpose, he is feeling better. No amount of him trying to explain himself is doing any good, he doesn’t even know what is going on inside of him—but your observation is the first step of the inner unfolding, of finding a solution to every problem he has. You create so much love, compassion, equanimity and joy in his mind that he doesn’t feel ashamed or judged. But seeing him biting down on that pencil—once you've seen how broken he is, it's like seeing him naked. How can you help now? “Bucky, why don't you suck on my tits instead?”

His gaze, though almost improper, is the most sensual thing he could have done at the moment, and it jolts your heart into a strange rhythm, leaving you unable to speak. There is lust and then there is love. They are related, but still very different things—you surge forward, crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing your lips to his. It is desperate and frantic, but the feel of his mouth against yours sends a bolt of electricity straight down your spine. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed. He gets on top and the gentle, erotic pressure of his mouth on yours, the compelling pleasure of his kiss—the world stops and all the silence, but for your hearts, trying to synchronize your crashing. It is all the thrill of these kisses, of your new naughty suggestion. It is the impatience of the way he tears your shirt from your body, that really turns you on—lust getting the better of him, Bucky is a gentle lover, but not today which makes a jolt of some foreign but not unwelcome sensation pierce you. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out: “I already love that idea, baby”

You let out an involuntary airy moan as he grabs them in his palms, his huge hands palming your tits, kneading gently at first before he rubs his palms in circles. He rolls one nipple between his fingers, humming in satisfaction as it hardens under his touch before he begins to suck on it while massaging your other tit. He's drooling, swirling his tongue over it before biting gently the nipple and he is thankful that your head is thrown back so you don't look how desperate he is. How fucked up he is. He fully embraces the deliciousness of this sin, the calmness that it brings to his mind and all you want to drown his worries. You want him to do something totally unlike himself and it is working—but this lust is something close to anguish, because he needs to stop eventually and he doesn't want to. He leans back a bit, searching for your eyes as he struggles to breathe, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take deep breaths, to soothe with oxygen—the vast ocean of blue that is his eyes, remarkably focused and soft at the same time. “I love it, I love how big they are” he says thickly and completely without shame. He bites down on the curve of your breast, breathing softly on top of the skin “Can’t stop,” he says, the words coming out like a caress. He says it again, over and over. A litany. As your clothed cunt contracts at the friction against his pelvis, his words, you can feel him, hips bucking slowly up into you. He latches his mouth directly on your other nipple, making you cry out as he envelops a part of your breast into his mouth, a hand coming up to play with the other one. “Bucky—enough”  Your hands go to his hair as he sucks sharply on the breast, but you can’t pull him away. You can’t help the whimpers that escape you, the long drawn out sobs that punch out of your throat whenever he bites a little harder, giving your other nipple a harsher tug as a punishment every time you try to push him back. Sucking removes any daily existence from his mind, any anxiety, grounding Bucky firmly in the moment and dragging your body with it. Until he had enough. What a beautiful madness, he never felt so relaxed.

[ghoularaki]

cw: zayne being a service dom, size kink, fingering, bondage. MDNI

zayne honestly loves how much of a brat you are.

if he was a little less reserved he could say he was proud it. most of it is his doing by letting you get away with your princess-like attitude and continuously spoiling you.

he loves how you huff and stomp like a bunny when you don't get your way. but what he loves the most is how you cling to him and beg him to indulge you. depending on his mood, he will give in. though, when he's stern with you and you back down with wide eyes, obviously embarrassed, that's his favorite part.

no matter how much you like to pretend you are in charge, one little firm glance and you are instantly flustered. it always pulls an amused simper onto his face before he goes back to his typical stoic expression.

he can't help but bribe you with little treats whether it be candy, stuffed animals or himself when he wants you to listen. it always works like a charm. but on the days you want more he still obliges since you don't listen with harsh punishments, if anything you crave them. it's like allowing a child to eat as much candy as they want for them to finally learn too much of a good thing can be bad.

you look so pretty like this: under him and mewling like a kitten. it had been another day of you avoiding a checkup meaning he had to seek you out. at least this time you had the decency to sound guilty. telling him you forgot despite he had put a reminder on your phone for you.

so he offered to take you home, well more so his home, but you had no qualms. or you didn't.

now you laid on his bed, hands bound together by his tie, laid on your chest. your legs just as restrained, tied together with baby blue rope so your calf stayed to your thigh, and thigh to your chest on both sides. you were perfectly spread out for him, unable to squirm.

leaning over your form to establish just how much bigger he was than you, zayne's focus never strayed from your face. mouth parted and eyes hazy, you were thoroughly fucked out. he hummed in satisfaction. gently his fingers dragged in and out of your pussy, teasing.

"you're so pretty for me," his deep, soothing voice lulled into your ear.

a small moan broke out. tingles spread all across your body. he's been at this for what seemed to be hours. going at that pace that's enough to keep you at the edge, but never bring you over. it's maddening.

"zayne, i said i was sorry!" you cried out, wanting him to go more than a leisure pace.

"that you did."

his fingers pop out of your glistening hole to drag up to your puffy clit. from how your legs were forcibly spread, it was on perfect display. the swollen nub ready for zayne to play with at his discretion. your back arched as he swirled and flicked your clit.

"i'm sorry, please, please! i'll be good, i promise. i'll listen to you forever and ever, please," you babbled on.

zayne chuckled, amused at you being reduced to such a pliant thing. "i'll stop torturing you, now."

tears burst from your eyes as zayne kept his rhythm. moaning and whining, you snuggled closer to him as he bent further down to kiss away the tears. as you toes curled, zayne plugged his fingers back in and his thumb swirled your clit. petting the spongy spot deep inside you, you came with more babbles flowing from your tongue.

as you came down, he softly thrusted his fingers in and out, not wanting to drag your orgasm out as long as possible. when you sagged against the sheets, sweat on your forehead, you expect him to finally depart from you. but his fingers stayed inside, going back to tickling your g-spot.

"w-wait," you whimpered, still sensitive.

"you didn't think i was done, did you? there's still plenty you need to learn."

[tteokdoroki]

bkg jerking off over you while you sit there and look pretty🫶🏾

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. expressive.

about. bakugou never gets good at controlling how his emotions sit on his face — especially when he’s close to a well earned release.

warnings. minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact! smut, vaginal sex, squirting, pulling out as a contraceptive method (don’t do this), male masturbation, cumplay, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, slight overstimulation, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou.

i imagine that bakugou never really gets good at controlling his facial expressions. usually, it’s super easy to tell when he’s pissed, because he has his fangs bared and his thick, dark eyebrows pinch together at the centre of his forehead. when he’s sad, he’s either unconsciously frowning or pouting — which isn’t an uncommon sight if you think about it. when he’s happy or calm, there’s a light that reflects in his ruby framed eyes to the point where they shine across a room, his soft lips upturned into a small smirk with not a trace of doubt laid across his face. 

you think, however, that katsuki is most beautiful when his body is hung over yours and he’s about to cum.

“you cummin’ baby? y’ gonna make a mess on my cock. milk your cock f’me?” you love how strained the blonde’s voice gets when he’s close, caught in the ridges of this throat and pierced by the occasional high pitched whine here and there. katsuki always makes sure that you get there before him, fumbling with your swollen clit nestled between your soaked puffy folds — using the tips of his fingers to catch whatever viscous track of juices slips out of you and around his throbbing girth before he rubs it back into the little nub. 

the air feels like it been sucked out from his lungs when your wet pussy selfishly sucks him in, clenching down on every ridge as if she doesn’t want to let go. your eyes disappear into the darkness of your skull, mouth lewdly hanging open wide enough for bakugou to spit into it. he immediately licks into your mouth afterwards, languidly rolling his hips into you with vicious wet smacks to the same tune. 

he roughs you up with spit swapping kisses, hardly giving you any room to breathe. you cry and gasp into bakugou’s open mouth, sucking on his tongue and filling him with your salacious siren’s song that only gets higher and higher with each step you take towards orgasm. he follows each movement of your mouth like he’s after the pied piper, chasing the heat of your tongue against his while his rough hands work you into a mating press — legs thrown over his shoulder and cock so deep inside you, you can practically feel him in your throat. 

his lips feel like heaven, pillowy and plush as they move with yours expertly, knowing just how to kiss you — eliciting a bright fire in your lower tummy that sets you ablaze from the inside out. squeezing around every blue, pulsating vein that twists its way around bakugou’s fat, milky shaft, you take what your given and squealing as it hammers into your g-spot over and over and over again until your mind blanks he’s claimed rule over your every thought like a barbarian fighting over land. 

“k-kats! daddy — ‘m gonna,” you drool the words across his open mouth like an erotic flash flood, your sanity dwindling into nothing and your resolve crumbling — he works into your sopping heat, stretching you open,  pounding away at that embarrassingly creamy cunt, just brushing at your cervix. poor you, you can’t help but sob at the unruly rhythm, your mount licking and unlocking to accommodate for the curve of katsuki’s dick that fills you up just right. 

it’s not long before your body fails you, and you’re cumming right then and there. white flashes behind your eyes and drowns out your vision, a scream of your lover’s name loudly rips through you while your release trickles out of you unexpectedly.

“shit, that’s it. all over me, all fuckin’ over me.” bakugou punctuates each of his breathless words with a sharp thrust into the depths of your squelching insides, watching the way you gush and stream around him and onto the bec with a hung jaw and drool seeping out of the corners of his mouth. once you’re spent and fucked beyond, he pulls out slowly — both of you mewling at the cool air on your hot and raw sexes.

now, you both know that pulling out isn’t an effective  method of contraception — but you’re both young and dumb and kid on believe in fate. but it doesn’t make it any less hot when katsuki pumps his dick over you to get off.

your boyfriend wastes no time in grabbing hold of his cock — sticky and glazed in everything you had to offer him, dripping with precum that helps guide the slick movements of his palm along his pretty shaft. you’re so pretty, covered in love bites and sweat and cum, lying there with big dizzy doe eyes — of course it’s going to rile him up. katsuki fucks his fist with an insatiable wanton, squeezing the base where you’ve left a foamy ring if your cream on him, to stave off his orgasm just so he can look at you a little longer. 

“show me your pussy baby, wanna see how much i’ve ruined you.” he heaves through the fog of desire carried in the vibrato. it shakes when you peel your doughy thighs apart — stuck together by clear ropes of your gooey release 

“i want you to cum for me, baby.”

bakugou presses his nose into your shin, a light blush dusting the bridge of it along with his cheeks. “i know, sweetness. ‘m gonna — fuck. g-gonna give it to you.” he stutters out, running a thumb through the seedy slit of his cockhead. you feel like you could cum again just from watching bakugou get off to the vision of you — his lips drag along your inner shin as well causing warm breath to coast along your salt-licked skin until you’re shivering through your aftershocks in anticipation. so you dip your fingers between your legs to spread your ravaged folds, circling your abused hole to give him a good look at the damage he’s done to you.

“please katsuki,” you gasp, teasing him just a little by playing with yourself to the same pace that bakugou jerks off with . 

the blonde chokes back a pathetic sob, letting go of his achingly hot and heavy dick to let it thud against his tummy. he’s always been blessed, the sight of katsuki’s length is mouthwatering enough as it is — but seeing it bright red and shining under the yellow light, covered in a thin layer of white to show how turned on he is, is reward enough for you. 

he’s so wet and heavy, oozing at every opportunity he gets — smearing a trail of precum along his manuka honey skin. “you drive me fuckin’ insane, my baby’s tryna kill me,” bakugou slurs over the drool collecting in his mouth, spitting down onto himself which only adds to the lewdness of the situation. “wheredya want it, hah?” dewy sounds of bakugou fucking his own, soiled palm mask his shaky breath, his hips ramming forward and never letting up on their urgent rhythm. “you want me to paint that pussy, white?” leaning forward, he taps his red-hot tip against your overstimulated sex — nearly busting.

“you like that? so fuckin’ naughty, maybe you wanna get all knocked up ‘n filled up by me,” he goads, pressing his cock head against your entrance before going back to jerking off — bat the way your whole body joints from the idea of ‘accidentally’ being bred.

“or do you want me to fuck that angel mouth of yours, get a taste of me?” he speeds up, chasing that innate desire to cum, throwing his head back while a needy groan escapes from the cage in his chest. “m-maybe i should cum on those pretty tits, maybe your face. show you how much i love you. how would you like that, baby?”

his sinful suggestions lull a weak moan out of you as you rut upward, letting katsuki push his slick cock through the remainders of your release still trapped between your folds. shaking hips, you hear the blonde hiss at your warmth around him while he pumps himself harder and faster, losing pieces of himself to you. leaking all over you.

“let me have it, katsuki. cum for me, wherever you want.” you command him wistfully, following through when his colourful curses turn to airy and dreamy moans — hot spurts of viscous seed shooting from his tip over your quivering mound and soft tummy, claiming your body as katsuki’s prize. you’re in love with the way his face twists, his crimson eyes wet enough to reflect their colour like a kaleidoscope,  his pink lips bitten until cherry red and wet with his own tears and sweat,  his soft blonde hair matted to the sweat that pearls against his forehead. 

katsuki looks like an angel when he cums. 

“fuckin’… holy shit, i fuckin’ love you so much.” bakugou cries as he cums, collapsing over you smaller-than-his frame as the aftershocks wrack through him. you push your fingers through his sweaty locks to bring him back down, soothing the static ringing in his ears as the rest of his orgasm smears against your inner thigh. “y’so pretty baby, jus’ go fuckin’ insane watchin’ you cum hard f’me like that.” he breathes, lashes fluttering against your neck.

kissing the side of his head, you hum in content. “i could say the same about you, lover boy.” pushing at his muscular shoulder, you giggle. “now let’s get cleaned up, unless you were serious about getting me knocked up.” 

“s-shit,” laughing rasping, bakugou rolls off of you and nestles himself into your side. “don’t say shit like that. you already got me so fucked up.” 

“you and i both know we could go again, hot shot.” you grin as bright as ever — tempting your boyfriend into another round. “best two out of three?”

“i fuckin’ love you,” 

“i love you too.” 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[hoshigray]

Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

[vanteguccir]

Sleeping inside her | Matt Sturniolo pt. 2

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Matt wakes up the next morning and just wants to fuck Y/N.

Warning: Smut (mdni), somnophilia (consented!), p in v, fem masturbation.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 1

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt felt his senses slowly return the next morning. The sun that came through the cracks in the blinds kept the room warm and welcoming, warming the blanket that covered his body. The sounds of birds outside and Y/N's light breathing filling the space.

The boy tried to move, holding his breath for a moment as he felt his cock being pressed by his girlfriend's walls, keeping him warm and hard, then remembering how they went to sleep the night before.

His blue eyes closed as Matt tried to focus on anything but his completely naked girlfriend next to him as his cock was buried inside her, the scent of her skin keeping him high. But all his self control was lost when his girl's hot, sticky walls squeezed him tightly while she was still asleep, seeming to want to expel him out or bring him in more, Matt wasn't sure.

The boy wrapped his left arm around Y/N's waist again, careful not to wake her, before lifting his own left leg and placing his foot on the bed, so that he could guide his movements more easily.

Matt pushed his hips back until only his head was inside, before slowly inserting his length again, letting out a breathy sigh at the delicious sensation, thanking Y/N for using lube the night before, which along with her wetness made the contact easier and more pleasant.

Matt rested his forehead on Y/N's shoulder, closing his eyes and focusing on the sensation, his hand going to one of the girl's tit on instinct, massaging the area carefully.

His hips seemed to take on a rhythm that he was already very well accustomed to and would never tire of doing, a calm and slow one, specific to moments when he wanted to love his girl and feel every little part of her perfect body.

His back flexed with his movements, sweat starting to accumulate on the back of his neck and biceps as low pants fell from his lips.

The wet sound that Y/N's pussy made with each thrust was the only thing that filled the room, increasing Matt's arousal.

It didn't take long for the girl to wake up, a moan escaping her lips before her eyes even opened.

"Matt- Fuck." Y/N moaned slowly, pushing her hips back against the brunette's pelvis, eliciting a low moan from him.

"Morning baby." Matt said in a low voice, the fingers of his left hand now able to pinch his girl's hard nipples, pulling them, making Y/N arch her back so that her ass was completely pert and her chest was fully forward.

Matt's right arm, which had previously served as a pillow for his girlfriend, was now around her neck, forcing her head back so that he could see her expression over her shoulder. Y/N's right hand quickly snaked its way until it stopped on Matt's arm, which served as her special necklace at that moment, squeezing the spot tightly as she licked her lips, wetting them.

One of the greatest pleasures for the boy was watching his girlfriend's pleasured features as they fucked or made love, the way her eyes rolled back and her eyelashes fluttered, the way her mouth opened in a perfect circle as her tongue lolled out or arched inside her mouth at the sensation, sometimes her full lips being bitten hard by her teeth in an attempt to silence her loud moans.

Matt was able to adjust his feet so that his thrusts were deeper and stronger, but keeping them slow, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. His cock moving in and out of Y/N at a single pace, taking out almost everything and then thrusting his entire length until his red head hit the spongy spot that made his girl see stars.

"Does it feel good, baby? Does it feel good to feel my cock moving in and out of you so easily? 'Was made for me, hm?" Matt whispered against Y/N's ear, hearing her gasp and moan in response.

The girl took her left hand to Matt's back, grabbing his ass and forcing him to go deeper, rolling against his hip and Matt followed her movements, Y/N's eyes rolling as she felt his dick hit points inside her that she didn't think was possible

Sex, fuck or love was always like this with Matt, no matter how many times the two got intimate, the boy always managed to surprise her.

Matt moaned hoarsely when Y/N made a specific movement that made his dick twitch, feeling suffocated by her moist walls. He lifted his left hand, which was previously on her tits, and brought it to her bare shoulder, removing the strands of hair stuck there by sweat, planting kisses on the area, his blue eyes opening and closing constantly, feeling like he could drown in the intense pleasure.

That same hand snaked down his girlfriend's body, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, stopping at her hip momentarily, where he squeezed tightly, smiling at the idea of ​​being able to look at the area later and see the imprint of his fingers adorning her skin in a perfect way, almost like an art.

Y/N felt unable to form coherent words, moans, and murmurs escaping her lips along with gasps and sighs, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pleasure, wanting to stay there forever.

Y/N's body twitched on its own as Matt moved his fingers nimbly across her clit suddenly, his hand going from her hip to her pleasure point in seconds, moving his index and middle fingers in circles and then up and down at its own pace, his hand acting automatically as if that action was already engraved in his memory.

"Fuck, look at you, I could watch you like this all day." Matt murmured, his blue eyes fixed on Y/N's face.

His hand acted quickly to lift his girlfriend's left leg into the air, his fingers pressing the inside of her knee, starting firm and faster thrusts, looking for his own orgasm, wanting to reach it with his girl. Matt took his cock out only halfway and came back in with force, making Y/N feel each of his veins massage her walls and his head press against her magic spot. Her hip movements became more frantic and uneven as her head fell further back, slamming the back of it against Matt's shoulder, telling him that she was close to her orgasm.

"Please Matt, I need- Please..." Y/N begged, unable to form a complete sentence, only able to think about reaching her peak.

"Do you want to cum, babe? Are you going to give me one, hm?" Matt asked against the top of her head, closing his eyes as he felt his own orgasm begin to rise.

"Please. Please, Matt, please." Was all Y/N could say, her hands clenching into fists in their respective places, marking her boyfriend's skin and crumpling the sheets.

"Cum for me, love." Matt whispered and his approval was what made Y/N collapse, her legs shook incessantly as her stomach contracted, the fingers of her hand taking on a white color with the strength the girl used in her grip, her head pushing firmly against Matt's shoulder as her eyes rolled back tightly, her mouth open in a perfect O as loud moans escaped her rosy lips.

The image along with the way Y/N's pussy squeezed Matt's dick tighter than before brought him to his own orgasm, strong and hot jets reaching the depths of his girlfriend's pussy. His left hand went down from the girl's knee to her thigh, squeezing the area tightly, while his right hand, still around her neck, clenched into a fist in pleasure. His own thighs shook from the intense orgasm as his mouth opened and gasps and sighs came from his lips, along with some moans and calls of his girlfriend's name.

A few seconds passed and the two felt the waves of pleasure gradually diminish, their minds becoming active again as panting echoed through the walls of their shared room.

Y/N opened her eyes slowly, her vision adjusting to the brightness of the room that was almost imperceptible before, lowering her leg that was still in the air.

Matt took his length out of his girlfriend slowly, afraid of hurting her, knowing how sensitive she would be, his left hand going to her stomach and caressing the area affectionately, kissing her shoulder repeatedly.

The girl lightly squeezed Matt's arm one last time, before taking her hand away, turning on her boyfriend's bicep so that she was now facing him. Matt's right hand quickly found comfort in Y/N's hair, caressing it.

"Hi." She smiled big, her eyes shining with love.

"Hi." He responded, laughing lowly as he brought his face closer to hers, his lips finally finding the ones he loved so much, his tongue passing through Y/N's closed lips, wetting them and asking for passage, which was granted.

A slow kiss began, the kind that makes you want to stay there forever, the kind that allows you to breathe through your nose calmly, lengthening the time of the gesture.

Y/N broke the kiss, placing her forehead against Matt's and closing her eyes, breathing in, absorbing the natural scent of the brunette's skin and the lavender of the blanket.

"I love you." Matt whispered, his left hand making a calm and affectionate path from her thigh to her waist, touching his nose to hers in an eskimo kiss.

"I love you more." She responded, letting out a low laugh at the gesture and moving closer, pressing their bodies together, her face settling against Matt's chest so that the top of her head was under his chin, her right arm wrapping around his waist. A sigh of relief and comfort escaped her lips, her mind convincing her to enter a state of sleep again.

"Sleep, baby. Today, we have the day to ourselves." The brunette muttered, knowing it was Saturday, so she had no work, and he had no videos to record. His lips found the top of her head, kissing the area for long seconds while he inhaled through his nose, instantly relaxing, being able to enter the world of dreams again.

[izvmimi]

barely thirty seconds pass before you finally bite.

"what are you doing, satoru?"

the question is silly, because it's quite clear what he's doing, crystal even - he's staring into your eyes, and despite questioning it, you still haven't broken the eye contact, electric blue practically glowing as he stares into your eyes. you're close together, noses just inches apart, but he's not on top of you this time, nor is he about to kiss you anytime soon. still, you're rather intimate, sitting across his lap, your arms folded in your own.

it's a private and still moment, captured in the safety of your shared home. satoru clears his throat softly before answering.

"i'm trying to see if you'll fall in love with me," he replies, matter-of-factly. despite how reasonable he means to sound, his voice is subdued and breathy, and you laugh, and still you don't break eye contact.

"i'm already in love with you, silly."

you'd meant to wrap your arms around his shoulders with this statement, but his hands grip gently at your wrists, holding you still. he's barely blinking as he looks at you, not wavering as he stares deep into your soul. a minute has passed so far in your exchange, neither of you backing down.

"i want you to be sick with it. so full of love you can barely eat or whatever."

your eyebrows scrunch, and you scoff. "conceited."

gojo swallows your taunt like the sweetest honey, a smile tugging at his lips. his thumbs pass over the soft skin of your wrists, and he breathes in. your gaze continues to be held. he does love you, he loves you far more than anything in this world or the next.

"it's only fair that if i have to be this way that you do the same."

two minutes have passed now, but neither of you are really keeping track anymore. you can feel your own breath slowing, your heartbeat trying to match his in rhythm.

"you can't possibly love me more than i love you," you remind him. your lashes lower but your gaze does not. satoru tilts your chin upwards slightly, guiding you not to back down with the touch of his index finger.

"wrong. my love has no limits."

if you weren't so absorbed in the way his pupils dilate, or in the shades and sparkle in his eye, and your reflection in them, you might have had the wherewithal to remind him he's cheesy. but you can't. love is overtaking you again, and pulling you into his eyes.

another minute passes, and neither of you speak, suffocated with something intangible.

satoru breaks the silence again with another murmured 'i love you."

you say it back through a kiss, through your arms reaching for him, holding him close, through your repeated moans.

[yanderestarangel]

Could I make a request? The Lin Kuei brothers’ reaction to a surprise lap dance/strip tease.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 | "𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄/𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄?"

TW : afab anatomy, v!sex, 69 upside down, praise, provocation, oral (f!re), sex without a condom, pet names (good boy/good girl), no pronouns used other than "you", himbo/bimbo reader.

★︎ BI HAN | SUB ZERO

♡ Bi Han would have a pleasant surprise after coming home from work tired and seeing you under the purple LED light in the room, wearing sexy and provocative clothes just for him - maybe a short skirt, tight socks up to your thighs and a thin shirt on top, bad enough to cover your breasts -he would smile under the mask, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow as he looked at the chair in the center of the penunbral room.

"-Is this a surprise for me bunny?" He said, releasing a small puff of cold air through his mouth, you could already feel his heart racing, even though he tried to control it. You told him to sit on the chair, which your husband quickly obeyed, while music played in the background.

He realized how much you had trained just to make this pleasant surprise for him, even with the cold sash, he was grateful, your sensuality and grace on his lap, teasing him and rubbing against him, was not only exciting but invigorating for him. He would enjoy your heat, the rhythm of the music in the background, your beauty, even if you told him not to touch you... Bi Han would.

His hands would go on your thighs, squeezing them, while the bulge in his pants increased, damn, he fell in love with you again... Not even he knew it would be possible. You were perfect for him, and only his.

"-Fuck you make me so hard (Y/N)... This is your fault." Bi Han whispered under sub zero's mask, pressing your ass under your skirt, over his pulsing erection, you trembled as you felt how hard he was, it was obvious he needed you, and it was just meant to be a pleasant surprise, it ended with Bi Han fucking you from behind.

Your pussy was drooling on his dick, your skirt was serving as support for Bi Han's hand, he was holding the fabric like a lever, watching your ass shake and undulate with each thrust of his, your knees hurt as you tried to support yourself on something , your feet floated brutally from the ground with each rough thrust of the taller man, moans echoed inside and outside the house, while a white trail of cum from Bi Han's dick soiled your cunt.

"-That's it... Fuck dear, take it all like a good boy/girl for me, Mmm- Fuck yes exactly like that, that's what pretty boys/girls like you deserve for pleasing me so much, I loved the surprise-" He stammered between moans, controlling himself not to cum inside you again.

"-Yes just like that, you deserve to cum until you can't take it anymore baby, and I'm going to make sure you get that." Bi Han slapped your pussy, going back to fucking you... You should really give him more lap dances sometimes.

★︎ TOMAS VRBADA | SMOKE

♡ He was at home with you that day, but he was called in a hurry to some Lin Kuei meeting, returning at night and tired. However, this tiredness would disappear as soon as he arrived and saw you in a short silk dress, showing all your curves, he could perfectly see your ass wanting to come out of the tiny cut in the fabric, making the poor ninja get a hard-on immediately.

"-Wow... Is this for me baby?" He spoke blushing, his blue eyes glued to each step you took sensually towards him, guiding the big boy to a chair in the center of the dark room, only the moonlight illuminating your body and Tomas' needy look.

The music started, along with your movements on his lap, he promised that he wouldn't touch you, only when you allowed it, but it was difficult to see you so beautiful and provocative like that and simply not beg to be able to fuck you. Your eyes met each time you turned around and rubbed yourself even more against the aching erection he had under his pants.

He would whimper so much, seeking more contact with your body. "-Can I touch you please? Please baby..." Vrbada begged, while using all his self control not to touch you and fuck you with all the strength he had at the moment. The killer didn't wait any longer when you agreed, bringing his strong hands to your waist, as he brought you closer. He would take out his throbbing cock, rubbing it against your soft folds under your dress, while he praised you, telling you how beautiful you looked like this, and totally his.

Obviously this would end with Smoke holding you with his arms, with his dick buried completely in your mouth, while he held you upside down, fucking you with his tongue, you could feel every choke in your throat due to the size of his cock, he would delight in your taste, telling you to roll like he did on his lap, only on his tongue.

"-Mmm- Oh F-Fuuck- Y-Yes baby, keep it up, roll that pussy tongue in my mouth- fucking hell my love!" Tomas moaned against your sensitive flesh, making you moan against his cock and shed tears of pleasure as you felt his cock impaling you deliciously well.

★︎ KUAI LIANG | SCORPION

♡ You two hadn't seen each other for two weeks, because he had gone on a mission to distant islands, along with the other ninjas. The longing was unbearable for both of you, especially your husband - he would get sick for not being close to you -

However, when he arrived that night and saw you in your lingerie, with an empty chair in the center, he almost went into an instant boiling state, but he controlled his powers in time. Kuai would smile at you tired and grateful for the surprise, his eyes said it all, he was longing, horny and even more in love with all your efforts for him.

"-Thank you for making an effort for me, little flower." He whispered in your ear, running his warm, calloused fingers over your lace lingerie, while you danced and moved gracefully to the rhythm of the music.

"-You're so beautiful darling... Just fucking hot." He smiled against your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass - there was no point in telling him not to touch you, this man was hungry for touch and lust -

He would just enjoy the moment, stimulating you enough, going with two fingers to the thin fabric of your panties and rubbing your clit.

"-Such a pretty and tight little slut for me, I missed it so much (Y/N) you have no idea." the pyromancer would apply enough pressure to make you wet against the fabric, a slutty smile would appear on his lips, as he moved your panties to the side, just enough to expose your wet and needy pussy for him.

Kuai Liang would make you move with your pussy on his dick exactly like you were doing on his lap, the thick and extremely hot shaft would hit every right spot inside you, while he moaned hoarsely between clenched teeth, holding the sides of your ass , watching every inch of him disappear and reappear with your every movement.

"-Yes, F-Fuck~ yes, such a good whore for me, I'm going to fill you with my seed today sweetheart, that's what you deserve for being a cute himbo/bimbo for me." The ninja spoke, slapping your ass hard, the pain mixed with pleasure in your core, it would be a long night.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[norrussell]

Friends Don't | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: you go out to celebrate George's home race win, not even imagining what the night will bring

Warnings: smut, drunk driving, unprotected sex

A/N: you will maybe have to necessarily read part 1 and part 2 hehe. For the sake of the plot, we'll pretend some things already happened. I've spent the whole week writing this and only got it to all click together from the third attempt. Third time's a charm, right? But at least had a blast while editing, which is a rarity. I actually enjoy writing these 'chapters' and building this world sm <3

Sundays were a day for rest and relaxation. A day for sitting down with a good book and a cup of coffee. A day for cuddling up with a loved one and watching a movie. A day for taking some time for yourself; a day to reflect and recharge.

That was, of course, unless your best friend was George Russell. And that your Sundays didn't consist of spending most weekends a year at different race tracks around the world. Not all of them, but you tried to be there for him at least once or twice a month, as much as the opportunity allowed.

That afternoon, George took the checkered flag in Silverstone in P1 and now you were in your room, preparing for tonight's celebration. The victory party was going to be wild, and you knew it. You had seen how George celebrated previous wins, and tonight was going to be no different. Especially because it was his home race.

You took a deep breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. You had dressed to impress, wearing a sparkly blue dress that fit you perfectly. Finishing your look with a pair of strappy heels and a silver necklace, you couldn't help but think about how previous events with George brought you even closer together.

Your friendship kind of became more... intimate. No pun intended. Guess you were both afraid not to lose each other over the past experiences, and that deepened your bond whether either of you wanted to admit or not. Now your only fear was that your closeness wouldn't tear you apart.

A soft knock pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see George standing at the door with a sheepish grin on his face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his hair tousled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and husky. "Ready to party?"

Never before have you paid any mind to the nicknames he called you, but now a thrill ran down your spine. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only person in the world.

"I am," you said, smiling at him.

As you stepped out of the door, George took your hand in his and led you to the car waiting outside. The drive to the club was short, but the anticipation was high. The party was in full swing when you arrived; loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

George led you to the VIP section where his friends and family were already celebrating. You saw his siblings and a few of his close racing buddies. You could hear their loud cheering as they saw George walk in with you and feel the envious glares of the other women in the room.

George handed you a glass of champagne and raised his own in a toast. "To the best damn team in the world," he said, looking at you and his friends.

Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together. You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, feeling it go down smoothly. The night was young, and the energy in the room was electric.

The party kept going on as the night deepened, and the noise of the songs blasted through the room. Glasses were filled up with drinks constantly, making it more of an effort to ignore the effects of the booze. You found yourself on the dance floor, surrounded by George and his friends. The bass of the music throbbed in your chest, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm.

Throughout the night, each person had a chance to take their turn with you on the dance floor, and eventually you were spinning around in George's arms. The heat of the club mixed with the buzz of the alcohol made your skin flush against his. You could feel his muscles flexing as he twirled you around, his hand firmly holding onto yours. The closer you danced, the more the tension between you grew.

For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was watching. You moved on him like it was just the two of you in the world, your hands moving over his body like never before, and hips swaying in perfect synchronicity. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. You felt yourself getting lost in him, and something stirred inside you.

And it seemed like George caught up on your odd behavior as the song faded away. He grabbed your arm and started leading you away from the dance floor until you reached a quiet corner. But your drunken mind wasn't understanding his intentions.

You threw yourself onto him and he had to secure your hips with his hands to stop you from slipping. You let out a hazy chuckle as you started grinding against him once more before he pushed you back against the wall.

"Stop it, that's not why I brought you here."

But you didn't listen. You pulled yourself even closer, letting your lips brush against his neck. "Then why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, your breath tickling his skin. "The drinks have gone to your head. I brought you here to take a break and cool off a little." he avoided telling you that you were drunk and not acting like yourself, afraid to provoke any unnecessary argument between you two.

Still, you weren't paying any attention. You were too inebriated to realize that your behavior was a little out of character, and you certainly weren't considering the consequences of your actions. You clasped your hands around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him again.

George tried to keep a respectable distance between you, pushing his hip backwards as you pushed yours forward, fighting the urge to get too close. That got you into an interesting position; you were leaning against the wall in between his arms with your shoulders as he leaned into you with his upper body. Your hand naughtily ran down his side, poking him. You knew you probably shouldn't touch him, but you couldn't stop yourself. His muscles strained as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're getting awfully close to me," he murmured, unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. His fingers slowly slid from their grip on the wall.

"Then don't push me away," you said back.

His face was just inches away now, and your lips unconsciously moved closer. The atmosphere between you two was thick with anticipation, a feeling that you currently relished in. Your lips were only a breath away from his when he spoke.

"We can't." his eyes locked with yours.

"Why?" you asked breathily.

"Because we're best friends." his voice was barely a whisper.

He hoped the reason he gave you would remind you of everything you asked from him that first time. But he didn't tell you that he feared you'd regret it when you sobered up, and that it would be his fault for not stopping it.

"And?" in the state that you were, did he really think that would stop you? He couldn't have been more wrong. You wanted to push him to feel something. Anything. "Best friends can do a lot of things." you smirked.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still on yours. "No, they can't." he gritted, shaking his head.

"You're right." you said, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "They can't do this." and your hips finally met his.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay level headed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in desperation, his hands pressed flat on the wall behind you, trying their best not to touch you as they dangerously started slipping down.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palms as you glided them down his torso. "Remember how you said you can read my body language?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding his head.

"What is it telling you now?" you whispered against his lips.

"It's telling me we're going to be in big trouble if you don't stop this," he replied. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"Then don't fight it. Show me." you murmured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. Your arms snaked around his neck and fingers twined through the hair at its nape, pulling him closer. You couldn't believe that you had done all those other things, but never kissed. And when ultimately his mouth closed on yours, it was like finally locating the elusive jigsaw piece on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday while tidying up your home that you thought had been lost forever. It made you almost not want to kiss anyone else ever again — almost, because deep down you knew you shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his head tilted to get a better angle. The kiss was soft, tentative, like both of you were very aware of what might happen. You pressed your mouth against his more firmly, tasting him. Parting your lips slightly, you felt the silky wetness of his tongue on yours. You bit his lower lip, letting out a deep moan when he groaned in response, hands that were in his hair tugging on the strands slightly. He groaned into your mouth again, pulling you even closer against him. You had no idea how long you were kissing, but it was definitely not enough.

The kiss broke, and you leaned your face against his neck, panting heavily. He glanced down at you, his lips so close to yours that if you had merely lifted your head, they'd be touching again. The warmth emanating from your body made him want to do things he knew he shouldn’t. He placed his forehead against yours, trying desperately to get control of himself.

"We should get back." he said between breaths. Your head was spinning from the alcohol and his scent and the magical kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were no longer kissing him. You opened your eyes and met with him.

"We should, before they realize we're missing." you nodded. He frowned, but his eyes were smiling. He was relieved, but he was also worried for you and what tomorrow might bring when you sobered up.

"Lets go," he said, turning around, but kept an arm around your waist so as to not let you get lost. You looped one arm around his neck, holding onto his shoulder, and gently hit his other shoulder with your head.

The night was still young and the party was still going. Music was playing, people were dancing, and laughter filled the room. Your friends cheered when they saw you two come in together, but neither of you paid any attention to them; all that mattered was that you were here, with him. Guys grabbed drinks for the both of you from different parts of the room and put it in your hands.

You found a spot on the couch and George sat next to you, his arm around your waist protectively. The conversations flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you both forgot what had happened earlier as you joined the rest of the group in drinking, singing along with music and laughing.

He later found you on the dance floor swaying around completely out of rhythm with a drink in your hand. Your face lit up when you saw him.

"There you are, my champion." you leaned into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"I won the race, not the championship.” he chuckled.

“Mm, don’t care. To me you are the champion.” you slurred, pouting.

“Hey, is everything alright?" he asked, supporting you.

"Mmhmm." you mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." you could hear the frown on his face. "You're drunk." he spat as he attempted to take away the half empty glass from your grasp.

"I'm not." you said, feeling yourself lose your balance a little as you swayed back and forth. He put his arm around you to help you balance.

"Yes, you are. I should've taken you home the first time around." he sighed, somehow not surprised you managed to get even drunker. You were both intoxicated for that matter, it's just that George knew how to hold his liquor. And he looked to never go over his limit in case something like this happened.

"No." you tried to pull away from him.

"I'm taking you home." he tightened his grip around you, leading you out of the party. You mumbled something in response, not quite sure what you were saying.

He helped you into his car and buckled your seat belt for you, before getting in himself. He drove slowly, carefully navigating the roads while you were almost passed out in his passenger seat. Every now and then he'd take a hand off the wheel to reach over and brush your hair away from your face or wipe away a stray tear from your cheek if one escaped your eye. As he turned into your street and parked the car, your eyes fluttered open.

"Um, could you walk me to the door?" you asked.

"I was planning on it," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Both of your arms wrapped around his left one, holding on for support, as he walked you to your apartment. Your little nap helped clear the haze from your head, but you were still tipsy. When you reached the entrance of your flat, you propped yourself against the door and blinked up at him.

"Do you want to come inside?" inviting your best friend into your home have never before seemed more dangerous and George should've known better than to say yes.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you asked to break an awkward silence that fell among you the moment he shut the door.

Before even waiting for his answer, you made your way towards the kitchen, but he extended his arm and grabbed your waist, preventing you from moving further.

"I think we both had enough to drink tonight," he said.

"Then what do you want to do?" you whispered.

"I want to claim my prize." he must have had a few more drinks than usual at the club to summon up the courage for that sentiment.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the alcohol still fogging your mind but not enough to miss the implication of his words. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. His hand still rested on your waist, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress.

"Is that what I am, a prize?"

"No, no." he said quickly, his eyes softening. "You're so much more than that, you know that." his hand cupped the side of your face. "When I saw you looking up at me on the podium today, I realized I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one who had been cheering me on from the sidelines all this time. You've been there for me when no one else was." he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You've been my lucky charm all these years and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

The way he was looking at you made your chest heave with a mixture of emotions. You were both under the influence, and you knew this was not the best time to make decisions, but you couldn't resist him. You leaned in and attached your lips together again, only this time with more passion, more desire. You could feel his hands running through your hair as he kissed you back, his tongue playing with yours, his body pressing against yours.

He pulled away, looking at you with a hunger you had never seen before. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to say anything. His lips crashed onto yours, hungrily claiming your mouth as his own. Your body responded to his touch, your hands roaming over his chest and tangling in his hair. He lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Climbing on top of you, his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. You moaned softly, your hands gripping tightly onto his muscular back. He pulled his lips away from you, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

You nodded, reaching up and pulling him back down. He gently kissed you again and you responded in kind, but he pulled away again.

"I'll stop if you tell me to." he whispered. "I don't want to do this unless you want to." 

"I want to." you murmured. The alcohol may have distorted your judgment, but it surely helped your courage.

"Are you sure?" he asked a third time. You laughed softly, trying to push him off. He had you pinned to the mattress, still pressing you down.

"Yes, I'm sure." you said, no longer laughing.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you hard, his fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of your dress. He ran his hands underneath, gently resting them on your ribs, and pulled your dress upwards. You lifted your hands above your head, freeing him of the task of removing your dress as you squiggled out of it and freed yourself from the restriction that was your dress.

He kissed you again, letting his hands run over your bare skin. His lips kissed down your throat and chest, his hands undoing your bra. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, taking in the sight of you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. You blushed, and he smiled. His lips traveled down your leg, gently caressing the outside of your thigh. "But I'm a little jealous, you know?" his lips traveled back up, his tongue tracing over the slope of your breast and hands kneading them softly. "You got to taste me, and I..."

He kissed his way down your body, his hands going over every inch of exposed skin, reminding you how skillfully he handled you that very first time. He reached your inner thigh and slid his hand underneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers brush against you before a long finger slid inside you. You moaned loudly, spreading your legs apart for him. He smiled against your neck, his teeth taking in your skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind.

His finger slowly moved inside you, circling you before sliding in and out. His hand pulled your underwear down, you kicking them off to the side. His mouth moved down your figure, hovering over your breasts. He teased you for a moment, blowing against your nipples before drawing the tip of his tongue over one. He did the same with the other, his fingers never ceasing to move. His kisses continued further down, over your stomach until they reached your mound.

"Can I?" he asked, peeking at you.

"Please..." you tried to hide the shake in your voice.

His tongue slid between your lips, gently licking you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. He teased you, his tongue circling your clit before sliding inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart. You spread your legs even wider, your body arching up to him. He leaned in, gently sucking on your clit and you moaned loudly, his tongue moving faster. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against his face.

You were nearing your end, your moans growing louder with every movement of his tongue. You could feel his lips smile against your skin, enjoying the sounds you were making. You cried out, your body tensing as you came, shaking against him. He pulled away, slowly kissing his way up to the top again. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, not hurrying you up as you sucked in his bottom lip, squeezing out your own juices.

"Taking that trophy is the second best thing that has ever happened to me." he whispered. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "The first, of course, being you. You're my greatest reward." he continued as you trailed kisses down his neck, removing the shirt off his shoulders.

"Stop talking, George."

"Sorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes, surrendering above you.

You kissed his chest, your nails raking up and down his sides, feeling his muscles tense. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and could sense the urgency in his touch. His hardness pressed against you, begging to be liberated. You pulled away from him, reaching for his belt buckle and his eyes shot open, hands reaching for yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again. He knew if you go any further there would be no going back and some irreversible things would be done.

"Are you sure?" you asked back, smiling mischievously. "I thought this is what you wanted." your nail dangerously circled around his lower abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with every word he spoke.

"I-I do. I'm just making sure you're not doing it just because I want it." you could tell he was really struggling to hold himself back.

"I think we've already established that..." you whispered against his lips and prompted your body more to his.

"Okay," his hand moved away from yours, and you undid his belt.

His pants fell around his feet and he kicked them off. His boxers were the last thing left, and you reached for them, slowly pulling them down. His hand held the back of your head as he kissed you, his tongue twirling around yours. You moved to pull away but he held on tighter.

His boxers hit the floor and you looked up at him, his hands resting on your frame. Gently taking your hand, he placed it on his dick. You gasped, feeling it grow even more underneath your touch. He pulled away, his lips planting kisses down your neck as his hand guided yours up and down his length. You felt him shiver as you grazed the tip with your nails, his breath hitching. He removed his hand, and your eyes shot open when you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

He teased you, running it up and down your slit. You threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching against him. The more he prolonged what you needed the most, the more your neediness grew. You tried to guide him inside you but he resisted, placing a finger on your lips instead. He dragged it over them before he made you suck on it, his eyes never leaving your face as he blew a stream of air out. Your eyes widened when you felt his head brush against you again, making you gasp audibly, his name falling from your lips.

"Please," you remembered what he told you the first time he had you in his arms like this. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." you chanted over and over again.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Hearing you beg for him made his head spin again. It was like you'd put him under a spell every time you'd utter that word and he'd not be able to deny you anything. Not that he ever wanted.

He slowly pushed inside of you, stopping at every inch to wait for you to adjust. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he began to move again. He kissed you, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you more. He was so gentle, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. This was not the normal rough, lustful sex. This was the man who loved the sight of you, the sounds of your pleasure. This was the man who wanted to make love to you, to show you what true pleasure was.

Your fingers sank into his back again, and he responded by thrusting into you harder, your moans getting louder. His lips traveled down your chest, his tongue flicking a nipple as he pushed into you again.

"Oh, god." you moaned, George's name falling from your mouth repeatedly. Your hands dug into the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"You feel so good... so damn good," he kissed your skin. "Making me feel like I don't ever want to take anybody else again."

"Don't stop, please, whatever it is that you're doing, please, just don't stop." you cried, twining your legs around him to press him deeper.

He moaned in pleasure when you did, his hands tightening their grip around you. His breathing grew heavier and faster, your bodies reacting to each other. He was so close, and he could feel you held right on the edge.

You cried out his name, your form shuddering under him. He had no intention of stopping, and he continued his movements as you kept shaking, your voice loud enough to wake up the whole apartment complex.

"You, George, only you…" you whispered into his ear as you were coming down.

You felt his whole build shake, his cock pulsing inside of you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to hear him as he climaxed. You wanted to hear the sounds he made, the sweetest song in the world.

"George… George…" you panted, your breathing coming out in jagged breaths.

He cursed, as his body trembled with pleasure. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he came. You buried your face in his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. He kissed you, holding you close to him. He wanted to stay inside you forever, to feel the sight of your face as he pleased you. You did that to him. You were the one making him see another reality where only he and you existed.

But he pulled away, your eyes searching for his as you slowly came back to reality. He kissed you again, his lips landing on yours.

"That was amazing… you were amazing…" he whispered, stroking your face gently.

"So were you." you said back, playing with the bangs that fell over his forehead.

He rested his head on your chest, finding a comfortable spot, your hands moving into his hair.

"Are you going to stay?" you whispered, uncertain.

"Only if you want me to."

"Always."

He hugged you tightly and rolled over so that you were now on top of him. His fingers softly ran along your back as your body let go and fully relaxed. The peaceful sound of your heartbeats and his breath seemed to take over the room. You drew near to him, feeling the up and down movements of his chest gently rock you to sleep, matters of your friendship left for tomorrow's morning news.

Next part

[astraystayyh]

you're in the wind, i'm in the water

hyunjin x reader. friends to lovers with a pinch of unrequited love (it's very much requited dw). this is pure brainrot so suggestive at the end. but also fluffy and soft. also reader wears a two piece swimsuit.

a.n: again, sanest response i could have to this hyune. please enjoy my descent to madness :) also the last scene is heavily inspired by my favorite dialogue in the song of achilles!!

pt. 2- orange

The first time you went on a vacation with Hyunjin’s family, you were only seven years old.

You don't clearly remember the island his parents took you to, the details of the travel elusive to your memory's grasp. But you remember Hyunjin- his hair darkening under the touch of the saline sea, akin to a night sky devoid of its stars. You remember the dimple on his left cheek- the sheer pride in you each time you managed to bring it to light. And you remember thinking that Hyunjin was pretty, for the first time in your small existence.

It's a thought that scorched itself indelibly into your brain, and as the years cascaded by, the branches of your love grew, each leave bearing new adjectives to describe Hyunjin- caring, emotional, talented.

But never yours.

You're both older now, and you see him less since his house is no longer right next to yours, the rhythm of life distancing you both. Hyunjin comes in and out of your life as an ephemeral tide, gently brushing your shores. You cling to the sea shells his oceans sometimes throw at your feet- the rare times when your schedules align, when you can see him beyond the confines of your phone, in pixelated video calls late into the night.

And it seems as if you've caught a rare shell this time- one with an ivory pearl hidden within it. Because you're traveling once again with him.

You're all much different, the passage of time marked you in different, but palpable ways. But your presence with Hyunjin's family still felt just as effortless as it did when you were seven. You never had to second guess what you said or how you acted with them. You were just like running water, flowing naturally within the nooks and crannies of his family.

And at night, under the moon's watchful gaze, your hushed conversations with Hyunjin remained. Beneath a shared blanket knitted by his mom, the warm sand melded with your feet, his dimple appearing once again at every word you uttered. He was still as pretty, perhaps even more so with time's gentle sculpting, molding his features into much sharper ones. It seemed only fitting for a soul as beautiful as his.

"I want to take you somewhere tomorrow," he had whispered excitedly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, momentarily leaving you breathless- tongue dissolving in your mouth like ivory seafoam.

"You want to kidnap me?" you playfully asked, nudging him.

"You don't want to come with me?" he pouted, his gaze locked into yours, pupils appearing much darker with the absence of the sun, like a boundless ocean. The water was right beside you and yet your only wish was to swim in his eyes.

"I want to," you admitted.

"Anywhere?" he asked, irises trembling slightly as he sought your response. You were both very different, chemicals binding his molecules, and your love for him binding yours. You stood faraway from one another- you in the water and he in the wind, stirring your waves, submerging you in the seas of your longing.

"Anywhere."

...

Faraway land punctures the ocean you're gazing at, crystal blue water filling the small pool Hyunjin took you to. You admit it's a breathtaking view, only your eyes can't depart from Hyunjin's figure.

He jumped into the pool first, while you went to retrieve your camera from your bag. And now you stand by the door, heart caught in your throat, as you watch him swim around. Hyunjin is graceful, in the way he moves his limbs, bending the water to his will. It doesn't look like he's swimming, rather dancing on liquid ground.

Kkami joyfully barks once he sees you, and Hyunjin finally lifts his eyes, locking them with yours. He is pretty, unattainable, a singular star outshining all the celestial light. Foolish of them to even think they could compare.

And he's still not yours.

"I’ll take a picture of you both," you smile softly, willing yourself to conceal the lump growing in your throat. Hyunjin nods, draping his hand over Kkami's body, softly scratching the spot behind his ear. You take the first pic, capturing the tenderness in Hyunjin’s eyes. This one's for you alone.

"Okay, look at the camera," you call out cheerfully, and they both turn to look at you in unison. Though your bodies did not touch, the intensity of Hyunjin's gaze seemed to sear into your skin, igniting a fire within you. Foolish of you to dream of more.

You set the camera aside, before sitting at the edge of the pool, dipping your toes into the cool water. Hyunjin swims towards you, positioning himself between your legs, his warm hand wrapping around your ankle. You want to flee, to go back to to the innocence of seven, to never recognize how pretty Hyunjin is, to avoid the heartbreak of dreaming of someone you'll never have.

"Come swim with me," he pouts, palm pressing against your damp skin. You shake your head, a teasing smile on your face, and he pulls you to him, hands holding your waist promptly to prevent you from sinking under.

You free yourself from his intoxicating hold, before diving into the water, a desperate attempt to get away from him. Because when Hyunjin held your waist, a tenderness so earnest in his eyes it made your heart skip a beat, you dared to imagine a future together. For a fleeting moment you became the ocean and he the sky, merging at the faraway horizon.

Hyunjin dives right after you, and then you both swim around one another, giddy smiles on your faces, your laughter echoing around the room. He tries to drown you, hands gliding across the surface of your skin, making goosebumps ripple in you. You attempt to do the same, but you soon regret it. His skin was smooth, taut muscles flexing under your touch; broad shoulders you wrapped your arms around, trying to push him down. Your hand accidentally brushed against his pulse, and you removed it as if it had burned you. There is life beating within him, wildly. But not for you. Never for you.

"Wait, hold on. Your straps are loosening," he notices, reaching for your arm and spinning you around, your back now facing him. "Can I?" he asks, voice dipping to a lower timber. You feel it in the depths of your stomach, depths only he can unravel.

"Yes," you whisper, as he undoes the loose knot of your swimsuit, the one behind your neck still holding up the fabric against your skin. You can feel his cold breath traveling across your bare back, crystalizing the droplets of water trailing on it. His fingers are a stark warmth as they brush against your spine, fingertips gently grazing your skin, like a delicate feather. You imagine your body is molten wax, and he's the seal stamp pressing onto you, molding you whichever way he'd like.

He's tentative as he grabs the undone straps, wrapping them in a knot. Or at least attempting to. You can tell that he's shaking, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. "Im sorry, I didn't tie it well," he giggles sheepishly, undoing the knot once again. You don't reply, unsure of what words will stumble out of your mouth. 'I don't mind you touching me' instead of 'it's okay'.

You turn around once he's done, but he doesn't move back, his body mere centimeters away from yours. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, the slight blush creeping up his neck, coloring him in the prettiest shade of crimson. The droplets cascading down his body, forging a tantalizing path you wish you could undergo. His dampened hair, a shade darker than his usual color. His lips slightly parted, rosy as they've always been. His adam's apple bobbing up and down furiously.

And you suddenly can no longer breathe.

Beneath the water, his hand encircles your wrist, a touch so faint you almost believe that you've imagined it. His fingers trail down, holding your palm and bringing it to his face. He closes his eyes, letting out a shaky exhale, one you inhale right back in. You're cradling his cheek, his hand right on top of yours, holding it in place.

"Hyunjin..." you start, but he shakes his head, eyes still shut.

"Please," he whispers, "just for a little." and the clouds slightly uncover, a singular sun ray piercing through them- one petal of hope unfurling at his words.

"Don't- don't do this," you plead back, tone tinged with panic. You couldn't have him, not even for a second, not even in a dream. That's the way things are. Two parallel lines, traveling down the same path, forever adjacent, but never merging as one.

Hyunjin plants a soft kiss on your wrist, lips barely brushing against your pulse. You've never truly known gentleness until this moment.

"If I told you that this trip with you is the happiest I’ve been in a while, would you believe me?" he whispers against your skin, head slightly tilted.

You shake your head no.

"If I ask you something would you be honest with me? I'm tired, yn," he says, his voice softening as it always did when he uttered your name. As if the syllables were always coated in honey, even in his sadness, in his anger, and now, in his pleading for you.

"I will," you respond with an equally quiet voice, and yet it resounds loudly around the room, amplified by the consequences looming around the corner.

"Do you want me?" he asks simply, expecting you to easily uncover a secret you've buried for years, to dust the weight of your fear in mere seconds.

You remain silent and Hyunjin deflates a bit, shoulders slumping forward, the dimple in his face vanishing completely.

"Because I'm drowning in my want for you."

A water droplet falls from the strands of his hair, landing softly on his mouth. You follow its descent, as he licks his lips nervously, his hold on your wrist faltering. The wind is gliding across the water- he's offering himself to you. Who are you to ever refuse?

Your lips crash on his before you even realize it, years of longing exploding before your eyes, spilling from your mouth to his in the most vibrant colors. His lips are soft as you've always imagined them, and they move against yours perfectly, as if molded from the same dough, created to meet again and again, in a fervor, and then in a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

You're kissing Hyunjin, and you aren't burning, disintegrating under the weight of longing for someone so unattainable. You aren't Icarus- you flew too close to the sun but it hadn't burned you, instead it embraced you, it's now wrapping its hands around your waist, pressing your chest to its warm one. It's a touch you welcome, one that liquefies in your veins like molten amber.

You wrap your legs around Hyunjin’s waist, as he walks backward until your back is against the pool railing. Your hands are tugging his damp strands, fingers threading through his locks the way sunshine weaves between the leaves. He tastes sweet, sweeter than anything you've ever had in your life. And you're greedy, you can't get enough of him, so you part for a second only to meet again, his hands digging into your sides. Chest to chest, skin to skin, heart to heart.

"Say it," Hyunjin whispers against your lips, "say that you want me back."

"I want you. So much, Hyune. You're the only one I’ve ever wanted," your words wash over him, erasing every doubt that was anchored in his heart. How could you not have seen it, all this time? In each photograph you took, his gaze, always on you. The fondness in his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks, only ever coming forth for you.

You lean away, head dipped down to kiss his shoulders. Your lips trail down his collarbones, moving to the mole on his arm. He smells like chlorine, and the sweet scent of your monoi oil. Hyunjin is pretty, Hyunjin is warm, Hyunjin is yours.

Your eyes meet his and you both let out giddy giggles, the flush of your cheeks matching his. His lips are slightly swollen, and he bites the lower one as he glances at Kkami, who was idly watching you both.

"Do you think we traumatized him?" you ask in a hushed whisper.

"I think he's glad this happened and he no longer has to hear my rants about you," Hyunjin smiles sheepishly and you laugh, the sound reverberating through Hyunjin’s heart.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your laugh?" he asks, thumb swiping across your cheek with a tenderness that leaves you dizzy in its trail.

"You have," you whisper, the sound of it getting caught in your throat.

"And this?" he gently grazes your cupid bow. "Have I told you how much I love your lips?"

"You haven't," you say, mouth parting slightly at his words.

"This then," he trails across your neck, skimming your pulse. "Did I tell you how I feel about your blush? How it always always starts up your neck? Always so pretty?"

"No," you are breathless now, shuddering under his touch.

"What about this?" his hands hold your waist, kneading the tender flesh. "Did I ever tell you? About this?" They go over your hips, gliding across the bare skin. "Surely I did."

You shake your head. Skin burning up where he had touched it. He smiles, tongue poking against his cheek, hands going to your back, tracing over your spine, undoing the knots of your swimsuit. "And this? Did I tell you how much I want you?"

You close your eyes, wind meeting water. "Tell me again."

[aikaterini-drag]

Fragile Embrace

Summary: Bucky is afraid to hug you tightly because of the serum in his system. You sweetly convince him otherwise.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: established relationship, implied smut, fluff, intimacy.

Kofi 🧡 AO3 🩷 ASK ME 🩵

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows across the walls in your bedroom. Bucky sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense, his hands clasped. He stayed silence, every inch of him hating his strength—the damned serum that felt like a curse.

Across the room, you watched him with concern and understanding. You had seen this struggle in him before, the internal battle he waged against his own abilities. He was afraid to let his true strength show, afraid to be anything other than super gentle with you.

You approached him slowly, your footsteps barely making a sound on the carpeted floor. Still, he could hear you. He was a super soldier, he knew the rhythm of your heartbeats inside out, knew the pattern of your breaths. He could also tell that you longed for his hugs—not just simple tender hugs, but the kind that squeezed you tightly, conveying the depth of your love. But every time you had reached out, he had pulled away, a look of agony in his eyes.

He couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down with you. He knew better than anyone what his strength could do, the damage it could cause… A small mishap and he could hurt you, and the mere thought of that broke his heart.

“James,” you said softly, your voice like a gentle breeze, “you don’t have to be afraid. I know you can’t always control your strength, but I trust you, and I trust your love for me.”

He turned to look at you, his beautiful blue eyes tormented. “Sweetheart, you don’t understand. You don’t understand how serious this is.”

She knelt in front of him, her hands reaching out to cup his face. “Baby, love isn’t about holding back. It’s about trusting each other, even when things are tough. I’d rather take the risk with you than live without your touch.”

“You feel my touch,” he said, his flesh hand slowly caressing her face.

“Yes. You are so very gentle with me.” You smiled and help his metal one. “I’m grateful but there are times when I want you to let go of your restrains and truly feel our love.”

He kissed your hair and closed his eyes. “I cannot let go of my restrains.”

Smiling gently, you rose to straddle his hips, your hands looping around his shoulders. “Not even a tiny little bit? Please? For me?”

He tensed but carefully embraced you, his hands encompassing your waist. “You are a little menace.”

“And don’t you love that?”

He chuckled. “I do love that. I love everything about you.”

“If you love me that much, then hold me tighter, Sergeant.”

“Like this?” His hands moved to cup your ass, squeezing the soft mounds and squeezing her against his hard body.

You hummed pleasantly. “More.”

With a low growl, he embraced your frame with his strong hands and squeezed just a little tighter. His face pained but when he watched you smile and writhe pleasantly on top of him, he relaxed and maintained his grip on you. You leaned down and brushed your lips together in a deep and wet caress. He responded immediately and coaxed your mouth open with a gentle nudge of his tongue, deepening the kiss.

“More,” you whispered against his mouth, your breaths mingling.

“No… sweets, I’m afraid—”

You framed his face, eyes locking onto his. "James Bucky Barnes," you whispered, your voice soothing yet decisive, "you could never hurt me. Your strength is a part of who you are, but it doesn't define our love.” You smiled, your thumb brushing against his unshaven cheek. "With me, you can always let go. I trust you completely."

“How can you be mine?” His breath ghosted over your lips. “How can this perfect softness be mine?”

“The same way you’re mine. You are mine, Barnes.” You traced his hard chest with your fingers. “This perfect man is mine. All mine.”

He looked at you with misty blue eyes. “You’ve quite undone me, sweets.”

“Make love to me,” you whispered, your mouth trailing a path of warmth along his jawline, stopping just shy of his lips. “Not slow and tender. But hard and emotional. I want to feel you. Every part of you.”

You sensed his apprehension at your words, the lingering doubts. But you crashed them with the loving press of your lips against his. With a trembling sigh, he succumbed, rolling you over, his big frame hovering above you on the bed. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed you down on the mattress.

You keened and he made love to you, holding you strongly, more tightly that he had ever done. It was a start. It was the beginning of your love’s resilience and eagerness to overcome any obstacle together. You found solace in each other's warmth, Bucky’s fear disappearing as he realized that your love was a force more potent than any serum or bionic arm and that he could hold you as close and as tightly as he desired, without ever causing you harm.