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sinner-as-saint · 18 hours ago

Text

our bodies converse like old friends

Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker

Summary: Back home after a long mission, and there’s nothing these two soldiers want more than to just lose themselves in their favourite girl

Themes: threesome, smut, explicit language, bucky x reader, john x reader, praise kink

a/n: hear me out–

“You’re making eyes at my girl again, Walker?” Bucky strutted into your bedroom lazily, looking like he just got out of the shower. He glared at John in that stern yet playful way he always does.

“Our girl.” John corrected him and tightened his grip on you, making you giggle and squirm on his lap. “She’s mine too. Besides, I was here first.”

John earned a dramatic eye roll from Bucky. “She was mine first, before you barged into our lives with your little sob story.” Bucky argued, making his way towards your bed, where you and John had been cuddling.

“Whatever, Bucky. She likes me more.” John said, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek, extra loudly just to mess with Bucky.

“Does she now?” Bucky rushed over and pulled you out of his embrace.

John and Bucky made everything a competition – who’d get to spend more time with you, who’d get to wake you up in the morning, who’d find their way into your bedroom first each night, who’d make you come the hardest… you never complained. And you let the boys be boys. Plus you loved the attention.

“Hi Buck,” You slid off John’s lap for a quick second, got out of bed and let Bucky pull you into his arms.

“Hi, babygirl. You missed me?” Bucky asked, kissing your face while also keeping an eye on John who leaned his head back against the mountain of pillows you always kept in your bed.

You caught the look the boys shared as you answered, “I did. I missed both of you.”

Bucky spun you around, so you faced John while Bucky still had his arms around you from behind. John looked extra comfy in your large bed, surrounded by your pillows. And he had that smirk on his face – the one that promised lots and lots of trouble for you. The good kind.

“Did you?” John teased, “‘Cause you were just telling me you had the best sleep ever these past few days. What was it you said?” He pretended to think about it, then answered his own question, “Ah, you said there were no men here to bother you and that you had plenty of alone time to do whatever you wanted.”

“Wow.” And Bucky being the dramatic man he was, pretended to be hurt. “Is that how it is? We go out and fight to protect people, this city, and you, and this is what we get in return? You being happy when we’re away?”

“That’s not–,”

John cut you off, and added, “I’m telling you,” He said to Bucky, “We spoil her too much.”

Bucky nuzzled your neck, making you shiver as he whispered against your skin, “Is that true, baby? Do we spoil you too much?”

“No, not enough.” You argued, glaring at John’s pretty face. The betrayer.

“Oh is that so?” John questioned.

Bucky chuckled, “Not enough, huh? I don’t know, baby, I’d say you’re the most spoiled little princess ever. Huh, Walker? Don’t you agree?”

John got out of bed, walked a couple steps and reached you and Bucky. He touched your face, his fingers tracing your features leisurely. “Maybe you need a reminder, huh princess?”

“Maybe.” You mumbled, looking up into John’s blue eyes. His hair seemed darker because it was still damp.

Bucky chuckled again. “Reminder it is then.”

And before you knew it, you were naked between them. Bucky sat in your bed, leaning against the headboard, with his cock in your mouth. While you were in between his legs, ass up in the air with John’s cock buried deep in you from behind.

“Not complaining about not being spoiled enough now, are you, baby?” John whispered, his large hands grabbing you by the hips so firmly that you were sure he’d leave bruises behind on your skin.

He always did.

Bucky had that cocky look on his face, groaning as you took him into your mouth as much as you could. He held your head gently and watched you intently with parted pink lips how you took him so perfectly. “There we go, princess.” He said, “You’re so good at this, aren’t you? Our perfect girl…”

John was just as focused on your body, his hands keeping you in place as he moved in and out of you, watching how you wrapped around his cock perfectly, your walls inviting him in just how he liked it. “Good fucking girl…” He muttered under his breath.

“Yeah you’re such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Bucky cooed. You looked up at him and whimpered, tears falling down your face as your walls clenched around John and he moaned in response.

Your body moved in between the two men like you were nothing but theirs to play with, all for them to use and you had no problem with that. They were greedy, both of them. Grabbing and touching you everywhere. But they were also gentle, and their touch was familiar and safe.

“You can do better than that, baby… you can take more, can’t you?” Bucky lifted his hips up gently, he held your head gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing through your nose, taking him in until he hit the back of your throat. You felt all of him, his smooth skin, his raw taste, and you couldn’t get enough.

Your fingers clawed at Bucky’s thighs as John pounded into you from behind. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely, your ass cheek slapping into his pelvic bone as he rammed his cock in and out of you incessantly, your wet warmth wrapped around him perfectly. “That feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Being filled like that?” John taunted playfully, “Huh? Do you prefer those lonely nights now?”

Bucky chuckled, “Can’t even talk, can you? Mouth full of cock… isn’t this a good reminder, baby? You still think you aren’t spoiled enough?”

Amongst the taunting and the way they used your body and mouth, you felt yourself drifting off to that high again. It was so close…

Bucky came first, coming undone all over your tongue and watching you swallow all of him, while John sped up into you, chasing his orgasm as well. Gasping and grunting, you loved how vocal he was, compared to Bucky’s more quiet manner. You couldn’t help the way you squeezed and milked him as you felt the familiar pressure forming in between your legs again.

You were already so desperate and needy, whining even as Bucky finally pulled his cock from your mouth and grabbed you by the chin so you looked up at him. Your whole body shook as John pounded relentlessly into you from behind. Bucky smirked as he looked into your eyes.

“So perfect…” Bucky breathed, looking down at you with nothing but pure desire in his ocean blue eyes.

“Be a good girl, and come for me, princess…” John spoke, fucking deeper into you. “Come on.” He urged you, his grip on your hips tightening. “That’s it, milk my cock and come, baby… there you go, good fucking girl…”

Bucky watched intently how your face morphed into a frown of pleasure. “So fucking pretty when you come.” He murmured.

“It’s like this pussy was made for me,” John grunted, and you felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, and he groaned and swore under his breath before coming undone, buried deep within you, “Tight little thing, aren’t you?” He mumbled under his breath as he came.

“Fuck…” You swore as you came right after, moaning and trembling between them both.

Your body tingled, and you felt warm all over and you felt sore because it had been days since you’d had them. At the same time. They could be a lot. Your jaw was sore, as was your sensitive spot in between your legs. You could still feel Bucky’s taste in your mouth while John pulled out and watched his cum drip out of you.

“Look at that, fucking beautiful,” He murmured, sliding a finger in and fucking his cum back inside you.

You were panting and whimpering, and about to collapse on your bed but they both held you up.

“Not quite done with you, princess.” Bucky spoke, mischief making his pretty eyes sparkle.

John added, cocky as always, “Did you think that was it?”

That’s how you found yourself right in between them not even a minute after. Clothes off. John was behind you while Bucky was in front. Bucky gripped your hips and settled your body right in between him and John. You could tell by the look in their blue eyes that they couldn’t wait for both of them to fuck you at the same time.

They always did this. And you always loved every second of it.

John gave you a quick kiss, his beard scratching your face, before he searched your bedside table to find the lube you guys always kept there. He held the bottle up and smirked at you. “I hope you’re ready, princess.” He teased, biting down on your exposed shoulder. “I won’t be gentle.” He added with a smirk.

You whimpered, your core throbbing and sore but ready for them at the same time.

Bucky touched your chin to get your attention, before he leaned in for a kiss as well. “Pretty baby,” He murmured, kissing along your cheek till he could whisper right into your ear, “Look at you, so fucking needy, it’s dripping down your thighs, isn’t it?”

John whispered in your other ear, “So fucking wet, princess. I think we would’ve been okay even without the lube.” He teased.

Bucky chuckled.

Your body trembled in between their naked bodies. They were so muscular, strong, and warm. And all yours. It drove you insane. And to think of all that strength, that superhuman power unleashed upon you… your heart raced like crazy in anticipation as you waited for one of them to finally fill you up.

John went first, he lathered his cock with the lube and toyed with your hole for a bit before he pushed his thick cock slowly into your puckered hole. “Fuck.” He cursed. The lube made it easier for him to fill you up and he had you whimpering and moaning in no time.

Your moans were shameless.

“You’re okay, princess,” John whispered into your ear, “Just focus on feeling good for me, okay? You can do it.”

You leaned forward and rested your forehead on Bucky’s shoulder to steady yourself, but before you could catch your breath and adjust to John’s size, Bucky guided his cock over to your folds and pushed himself into you as well.

They both groaned at how tight you were and slowly started moving in and out of you.

“You okay, baby?” Bucky asked, once he was fully inside of you. “Deep breaths, you got this.”

“We got you, angel, don’t worry.” John whispered. "We're right here."

You felt your holes stretching with both of their cocks inside of you and you felt so full that you could barely talk. You gripped his metal arm tightly, and nodded. Trying to accommodate both of them inside you was nothing new, but it always took away your ability to think straight.

“So fucking tight…” John whispered against the back of your neck. They both had their arms around you, holding you up.

The two moved in and out of you with a comfortable pace, one you were used to. Your walls clenched equally tight around each of them and the wet sounds your bodies made were sinful enough to make you almost lose your mind.

John bit down on your shoulder, whispering how good you felt while his arm tightened around you and he firmly placed his palm against your abdomen, right above your core. “You’re fucking perfect, baby, you feel that?” He could feel each one of Bucky’s thrust each time Bucky’s thick cock filled you up.

So did you, moaning at how full you felt. “Oh my god…” You whined.

Bucky chuckled, “No gods in here, baby. Just us.”

You were all theirs.

All you could focus on was their voices, their moans and their body heat as it wrapped around you, comforting you, making up for the time they’ve been away. Making up for the lonely nights you spent without them.

“Not missing those lonely nights now, are you?” Bucky taunted.

“You’re doing so, so good…” John reassured you.

They both moved perfectly against you, your heart beats and breaths in sync. You felt the pressure growing in between your legs again, and you could no longer hold it back anymore.

You were sensitive and needy. “Please….” You begged. To both of them.

“Can you hold on a little longer, princess?” John asked.

“No, no, please… please, can I–,”

“Shh. It’s okay,” He murmured into your ear, “I know it’s a lot. I know. It feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“Go ahead then, baby. Come for us,” Bucky finally said.

That was all you needed. You felt your walls clenching around both of them, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you came violently around both of them.

You cried out, actual tears streaming down your face and you whimpered as they kept going even after you came, pounding into you from both sides and chasing their own release.

“I know, I know,” John kept whispering, his beard rough against your soft skin. “I know you’re sensitive, angel. Just a little longer, I promise. Just a little…”

“Almost there, baby…” Bucky’s breathy voice murmured. “Almost there…”

The sounds of the moans and grunts coming from them made your body tingle.

“That’s it, baby.” Bucky growled. “Missed this fucking pussy.”

Bucky came with a loud moan.

John came right after, panting as he filled you up again, then carefully slipped out of you, letting his cum drip down your skin again. Because he loved to watch it, he’d told you once.

You whimpered when Bucky pulled out of you, you felt his cum oozing out of your folds and dripping down your thighs as well.

Your body felt heavy and limp, so you just leaned back against John while Bucky kissed your lips roughly. You were sure you would be sore even tomorrow.

John wrapped his arms tightly around you and kissed your temple. He was still catching his breath, all warm and sweaty. “You’ve been such a good girl for us, baby… so proud of you.” he whispered against your skin and kissed the side of your face. “You did so well.”

Bucky kissed down your neck, lips brushing against damp skin. “You’re always such a good girl, baby. Our spoiled, perfect princess…”

—

a/n: this would send 2021 me into a coma

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #john walker #john walker x reader #marvel

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buckyys-babydoll · 2 days ago

Text

Yours, with body and soul

Pairing — Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary — Denying. The worst he can do when Sam annoys him about the relationship between Bucky and you.

Warnings — secret relationship, hurt/comfort, angsty, Bucky being known as fuckboy, roommates au, fluff

Wordcount — 4.832 Words

Authors Note — Written for the “Hot Bucky Summer” by @buckybarnesevents [Week One | “Mind your own damn business, secret relationship]. Beta’d by @elixirfromthestars. Divider made by me.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky groans loudly as Sam steps into the living room with a wide grin. Fuck him. Fuck it.

He’s never on time. Never! Except today, one time in like forever. The shit eating grin on his face saying everything Bucky has to know. Everything he doesn’t want him to know.

“If you’re busy, we can reschedule,” Sam laughs, plopping down on the couch. His legs are crossed, his arms thrown over the backrest of the couch as he watches the brunette standing like a lost puppy in the middle of the room.

Bucky shakes his head. Glad you didn’t notice Sam when you walked out of the room and back into yours.

“Why are you on time?” Bucky groans, running his thick fingers through his brown locks in frustration. “You’re never on time.”

Never.

In the years they have known each other, Sam has always come late. One minute. Two minutes. Or maybe half an hour. But there wasn’t a meeting he was early for or on time.

Except today. Of course, today!

“It’s nice to be on time. You’re always complaining when I’m late,” Sam shrugs. The smug grin on his lips never leaves, only increasing when he sees Bucky’s frustrated but also slightly flustered expression.

Of course, Bucky had complained in the past. Either the movie at the cinema already started. Or they didn’t get the best seats at a concert. Even at parties, the girls they took out were so impatient, Bucky had to deal with all of them.

But today? Today there wasn’t any rush. No annoying girls to demand Bucky’s full attention. All at once.

Today, it was just lunch with Sam to get through some presentations for college. But there was no rush. They could eat at twelve. Or they could eat at one, Bucky doesn’t care.

“You’re never on time, idiot,” Bucky mutters under his breath. He throws himself next to Sam on the couch, throwing his head back against the backrest. “I hate you.”

Sam laughs, turning his head toward Bucky. The grin still plastered all over his face. But the sparkle in his brown eyes. Dangerous.

Bucky shakes his head. Sam laughs.

There was nothing funny about it. And he had the audacity to not just appear early but also smirk at Bucky like a damn idiot.

He hates him. So much.

The silence between them is thick with tension. Bucky keeps running his fingers through his brown locks, refusing to look at Sam. Sam, though, keeps watching his friend closely. Closely!

Taking in the small redness on Bucky’s cheeks. The nervous habit of his hand running through his hair. And the anxious bouncing of Bucky’s leg.

Bucky’s not the anxious kind of guy. He never was. Except with you.

And Sam knows. He watches the known fuckboy becoming such a puppy around you. His best friend. His roommate.

“So what’s going on between you and her?” Sam asks after a while of silence. He’s enjoying Bucky suffering because of all the tension in the air too much, using every opportunity he can get to leave his friend suffering a moment longer.

“Nothin’, so shut up,” Bucky groans, getting off the couch. His blue eyes are darting throughout the room, looking for his pants.

He knows he threw them somewhere in the living room yesterday. Where the hell were his damn pants? Then he catches a glimpse of dark blue fabric behind Sam’s back.

Bucky’s eyes narrow, his head tilting slightly. “Gimme my pants, dickhead.”

“Woah! Be nice, sweetheart,” Sam teases, using the pet name Bucky often uses for you. Next to Babydoll, Princess, or Baby.

He loves them. Loves to see the flustered, almost shy smile appear on your lips whenever he calls you one of these pet names.

Though, when Sam uses one of these names — using them for Bucky is worse. So much worse.

“Anyway,” Sam says, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts as he claps his hands together. “You sure, huh? So, you say, there is nothing going on between the two of you?”

“Sure as hell!” Bucky mutters. “Now gimme my pants, dickhead.”

Sam laughs, but pulls Bucky’s pants from behind his back to throw them at the other man. Bucky catches them, glaring at his friend.

The glint in Sam’s eyes is still visible, his lips curled upward while he wiggles his eyebrows.

Nothing's going on.

Oh, he will have so much fun making jokes. Teasing Bucky about the nothing is going on situation.

Bucky might now be known as someone who’s spending more than one night with a girl. Maybe two nights, but never more. He doesn’t want to be addicted or want them to fall in love with him.

“So,” Sam starts again, ignoring Bucky’s annoyed huff and the roll of his eyes. This man just can’t shut up. Not once. And of course. Not in such a situation. “The little peck to the corner of her mouth. Or that soft smile when you look at her, it means nothing, you say?”

“Just shut up and mind ya own damn business,” Bucky barks at Sam. Changing into his jeans, he throws his sweatpants on the couch next to Sam.

Taking his phone and keys off the table, Bucky nods toward the door.

He can’t have more of this conversation right now. Sam won’t get it anyway. Won’t believe him anyway. So there is no sense in arguing with him about something he saw.

“Misinterpretation,” Bucky shrugs. “Can we go now, or does ya lazy ass want to stay on the couch all day?”

Sam rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gets off the couch. He’s the one who’s always in the gym with Bucky. Who’s at every party with Bucky when he asks. Always. And now he’s a lazy ass?

Hormones. Worse than a girl!

“Ouch!” Sam whines playfully. His hand finds its way to his chest, and he squeezes the muscle underneath his shirt with a fake sob. “What do you all mean, now? It was just a peck on her lips, nothing special for the man you are.”

That stings. You didn’t mean to overhear the conversation between them. Nothing special. Nothing at all.

Tears well up in your eyes. How could you be so dumb? Dumb enough to fall for Bucky's tricks. For his charm.

You should have known. His only goal was to have you in his bed, writhing underneath him. For a bet? For his satisfaction? You don’t know. You don’t want to know.

Your heart breaks into tiny little pieces. One by one, making you fall apart. Every word hits you harder, hits a part of you that you didn’t know could be reached so easily.

Bucky’s your best friend. Your roommate. And yet. There was more. You thought there was more. But maybe there never was, there never will be. For him, you’re nothing but his next one-night stand. The next girl at college he has fucked.

That’s what you are. A meaningless fuck.

“Mind. Your. Own. Damn. Business,” Bucky groans in frustration. He’s shifting slightly, his gaze lingering on the wall behind his friend.

On a picture, to be exact. A picture of you and him. Happy. Laughing.

His heart skips a beat as he takes on every little detail of your smile. The slight curve of your lips, the sweet crinkles around your eyes.

You’re so beautiful. So sweet. And yet, so smart. Attractive.

Bucky never had a girl like you before. He had never met someone so sweet, loving. Your heart is so full of love. Love for everyone who needs it, for everyone who deserves it.

So full of love. So full of second chances for everyone who wants to prove themselves. Who wants to prove that they can be better than they were.

He doesn’t deserve you. Never did. Never will. No one does.

You’re way too sweet, too forgiving. Offering everyone a sweet smile. Even on bad days. Even when they lash out, that smile never leaves your lips.

You’re like the sun for him. Always bright and shining. Even on rainy days, you’re there, somewhere — smiling.

“There’s nothing going on between her and —“ Bucky interrupts himself as he takes in your smaller form. His ocean blue eyes settle on your face, a worried expression rushing over his face as he freezes.

You heard it. You heard it all!

“Babydoll– Fuck!” He mumbles, taking a step closer to you. But you step back, red rimmed eyes, tears leaking down your cheeks as you shake your head slightly.

He wants to reach out. But he doesn’t. He wants to hold you. Comfort you. Kiss you. But he doesn’t. He stops mid-track, running his fingers through his thick hair.

Just the way you love to do it. Just the way you do it. Twirling your fingers around his strands, pulling them softly when you massage his scalp.

His heart aches at the sight of your tear strained face. Don’t cry, babydoll. Please, don’t cry.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, his eyes soften. “Babydoll—“

“Leave it, James,” you say, swallowing down the pain that’s pulling at your heartstrings. It hurts so bad. “I get it, don’t worry, I get it now.”

You turn on your heels, grasping your jacket before you run out of the apartment. Fuck, you hate it. You hate him. But you also love him.

“Babydoll! Please, wait, please-“ Bucky pleads, but you’re out of reach. So far away.

His heart sinks. Yours shatters.

No. It can’t end like that. He never wanted it to end like that — never wanted it to end at all.

But there he is. Standing in the living room of your shared apartment. His eyes still focused on the place you stood before rushing out. His heart is heavy. His mind is empty.

He didn’t mean to.

“What the—“

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters, turning to Sam. His eyes darken as he sees his friend who’s casually walking toward him.

Like nothing happened. Like nothing happened.

“Nothing, huh?” Sam asks, once again. He shrugs before he passes Bucky. His shoulder pushes against Bucky’s, nudging him to follow, but he doesn’t.

Bucky remains where he is. His eyes are dark. His focus once again on the spot you stood.

His actions slowly sink in further. He hurt you. He hurt you so badly. Fuck.

His stomach turns, clenches. His heart is ripped out of his chest, shattered on the ground, and no one is there to help him pick it up again. No! You’re not there to help him put it back together.

Bucky should never have said that. He should have been honest with his feelings.

But now. His heart is shattered. And he doesn’t even want to imagine how you must feel with the pain he caused. He doesn’t want you to feel the pain he put you in.

Your face, tear-streaked cheeks. Red rimmed eyes. So hurt. So hopeless. And yet the glimmer of love in your orbs as you looked at him.

How could he hurt you?

“Just… shut up,” Bucky growls. But there’s no anger in his voice. It’s only filled with pain. With regret.

He looks up, facing Sam.

Bucky takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his locks, pulling them down his forehead before he lets them go again. His eyes filled with tears, trying to blink them away.

“Can we talk about this shit later?” Bucky asks, referring to the presentation they wanted to go over during lunch. “Gonna have to find her. Need to talk to her.”

Sam shakes his head, placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. His brown eyes are softer, his expression not teasing or amused anymore. He’s serious.

“No. You have to calm down. It doesn’t help when you run —“

“I can’t calm down! Sam, I fucked up. Like fucked up,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

He leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry! His Adam’s Apple bobs harshly. Blinking rapidly, he tries to get rid of the tears in his eyes, but it doesn’t work.

Never worked. Not when it comes to you.

His feelings are too deep. Too real.

“I have to—“

“Calm down! Yes, you have to calm down, Buck,” Sam says, keeping a firm grip on Bucky’s shoulder. He doesn’t budge when Bucky pushes slightly. Weakly. “C’mon. It doesn’t help you or her if you run after her. You're too emotional right now.”

He’s right. But Bucky can’t. He can’t risk losing you. Not over that. Not over anything.

He takes a shaky breath, shaking his head. Bucky has to follow you.

“Please, if I don’t talk to her now, she will never forgive me, Sam,” Bucky mutters, pushing Sam harder until he finally budges slightly. His hand still on Bucky’s shoulder.

He knows it’s not true. Hopes it’s not true. You’re so forgiving. Always.

But he fucked up. He can’t risk it, not when it’s about you. He needs you more than he needs air. Bucky would never forgive himself — or Sam — if you don’t forgive him.

He hurt you. Bad enough to not even deserve forgiveness. Of course, he doesn’t. But he needs you. And if there is the slightest possibility of saving your relationship. To earn your forgiveness, he will do it.

He would walk around the Earth. He would dive into the deepest ocean. He would do anything for you.

“And what would you say to her if you run after her now?” Sam asks, trying to make Bucky understand.

Bucky shrugs. Sam nods.

What would he say? Sorry. He didn’t mean to. Sorry. He loves you. But would that be enough? He needs to apologize, genuinely.

“Sorry.”

“And you think that makes it better?”

Bucky shakes his head again. Of course, it doesn’t.

If you have a glass and let it fall on the ground, it will shatter into pieces. You can say sorry, but it’s still shattered. Because in this case, no words help.

The same with your heart. He can say sorry. But it doesn’t help when he doesn’t show you that he means it. He has to prove it. Prove that he deserves your forgiveness. Deserves your love.

“Let’s have lunch. No talking about college, just some distractions. You won’t make it better if you rush after her, all panicked and confused,” Sam mutters, letting go of Bucky’s shoulder and walking toward the door.

Bucky sighs, looking over at him before he nods.

Fine. Sam won’t leave him alone until he agrees. So he does. Following after his friend, leaving the parts of his heart shattered behind him in the living room.

He has to put them back together. He has to put yours back together.

Bucky’s heart is heavy, his mind reeling. But he has to follow Sam, otherwise he will stand there for hours. Panicked. No apology. Just sorry.

———————————————————

You walk around town. Lost. Broken.

He didn’t love you. All the words. All the touches. The soft kisses. They meant nothing to him.

What’s left is a broken heart, pain and longing.

Longing for something you can’t have. Something he doesn’t give you. It hurts. So bad.

Bucky’s wide-eyed expression, the shock on his face. It's still visible in your mind. Like he’s still standing in front of you. Like, he didn’t mean to say those things. And yet, he did.

You walk. Further and further. Just away from him. Somehow, the memories of the softness, the love, the adoration, you carry it with you. Heavy on your shoulders, clinging to your body like it belongs there. Like the pain you feel has to be felt.

And maybe it does.

You’re not sure how long you walked. Or where you walked. Surroundings don’t look familiar anymore, and the cool of the night makes your exhausted body shiver even more.

You just want to go home. Hide under your blanket and hope Bucky is at Sam’s or maybe–

You shake your head. No other girls. Please, no other girls. He promised it. But maybe it doesn’t mean anything now either.

Empty words. Empty, broken promises. Is that it?

The three months of dating happily were nothing but a lie?

You sigh, looking around. Where did you come from? What path had you taken?

A cold shiver runs down your spine when you don’t recognize anything around you. The sun goes down, and the sky darkens. The air is fresh, promising a cold night.

You shouldn’t have walked this far. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath becomes heavier. Panic fills your veins. Why didn’t you hear Bucky out?

Because you were hurt. You still are! But it could have saved you from getting lost in nowhere.

Your hands start to sweat. Tears form in your eyes, and every rational thought is thrown out the window. Your hands shake as you try to reach for your phone in your pocket.

It’s not there. And not in the other pocket. Panic rises, taking over everything that’s left of your thoughts. You can’t stay outside at night, you can’t!

“Babydoll!” A rough, hoarse voice comes from behind you.

So soft, so worried. And so familiar.

A hallucination. He wouldn’t have followed you. He wouldn’t even know where you are. And yet, his soft voice sounds so sweet and caring, filled with so much love.

“B-Bucky?” You ask quietly. Afraid he wouldn’t be real if you spoke any louder. Then you turn around, slowly. Carefully.

Facing the broad man you love. His piercing blue eyes filled with worry and regret. His hands shaking, his lips trembling. Bucky’s eyes are red-rimmed, filled with tears.

A soft, almost soundless sigh escapes his plump lips. “Fuck. Babydoll, I was fuckin’ worried.”

You want to throw yourself into his strong arms. Make him hold you tightly, softly. But you don’t, afraid he doesn’t want to. Scared he would push you away.

Not wanting to break your already broken heart further, you look at him with wide eyes. Your mouth slightly agape, but silent.

“Babydoll, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mutters over and over again.

Sam was right. He doesn’t have the right words to apologize. Not even after hours of thinking about it.

“Why, Bucky?” You ask, your voice broken but so soft. So forgiving.

You should shout at him. Punch him. Tell him you hate him. But you don’t.

He deserves it. He tells himself he deserves all your anger, all your hurt.

But you’re just too good. Too sweet.

“What?” He asks, confused. He takes a step closer, cautions. Bucky doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he can’t stay away from you either.

“Why did you say that? I-I thought I meant something to you. I thought we meant something to you?” Your voice breaks, just like everything inside of him.

Bucky hates to see you cry. But he deserves it. He’s the reason for all these tears.

He takes another step closer, lifting his calloused hands, but he doesn’t touch you. Waiting. Watching. His heart beats fast, his fingers twitching, but he doesn’t move further unless you allow him to do so. And you know.

Bucky might be a fuckboy. But one thing about him: he respects women. He doesn’t touch unless he has permission, not even innocent touches.

“Please, can I- can I please touch you?” He whispers, his voice soft but so pained. He takes a shaky breath, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “I know I don’t deserve it. But please, I need to feel you right now.”

You nod slightly, just enough for him to notice. Bucky immediately brings his warm hands to your cheeks, framing your face and pulling you closer against him. His breath hitches, a sob vibrating through his chest before it slips past his lips.

“I’m sorry. So sorry, sweetheart. I promise, I didn’t—“ another sob wrecks his body. Your heart aches, and whatever happened before, you can’t stand there and pretend it doesn’t rip your heart out when he’s crying like that.

His whole body is shaking as you snake your arms around his waist, leaning your head further into his warm touch.

For a while you both just stand there. On the sidewalk, tangled in one another. You’re both crying. Holding and comforting one another while the moon rises.

Everything is painted in the silver light of the moonlight. Even though the wind gets colder, you both keep holding onto one another like warm blankets.

With every passing second, you feel the pieces of your heart being put back in place. Slowly but steadily. Your body is filled with a warmth that only Bucky provides, the softness and love you fell in love with.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I promise, I didn’t mean it,” Bucky whispers after a while. His voice is rough from crying, and you can still hear it tremble.

He’s so soft. Like a lost puppy for you. Only for you.

“What did- what did you mean with there’s nothing going on?” You whisper. Another tear rolls down your cheek. Bucky’s fast, catching it with his thumb to immediately wipe it away. “Our months of dating. Did they even mean anything to you?”

“Everything!” He blurts out, his eyes soft. He means it. Genuinely means it. “I shouldn’t have said what I said to Sam. But I—“

Feel unsure? Feel insecure? Feel like you deserve more than what he can offer?

You wait patiently until he’s ready. Until he’s formed the right sentence in his mind. Though for him it still sounds wrong.

How can he possibly describe his feelings for you with simple words?

“It’s— fuck,” he whispers. Desperately searching for the right words, for the right way to explain.

He shakes his head, leaning his head back like he always does. Not thinking, but to stop himself from crying.

“Buck, look at me, please,” you whisper, running your fingers up and down his back.

His face drops, his eyes finding yours. Teary, vulnerable eyes. He’s bare for you. He always is.

“Shh, take a deep breath,” you mumble, leaning closer to press your lips to his cheek, kissing away the tears. But instead of crying less, his tears flow freely. “Please, take a deep breath for me, Buck.”

He does, inhaling slowly. Then he holds the air for a moment and blows it out through his mouth again. Repeating it a few times, you can feel his heartbeat calm down as well as his shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your forehead. A soft sigh escapes him as he takes in the sweet smell of your shampoo. His favorite. “You should shout at me. Be mad at me. Hate me. But you’re just too good, and I don’t deserve ya. But, baby, I want to, I will do everything to deserve ya, will earn it.”

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head.

He fucked up. He doesn’t deserve you. Never did. Never will. And yet, he wants to deserve you.

“Why did you say it, Buck?” You ask softly. Way too soft for his liking. Like you already forgave him. But he hasn’t even forgive himself.

Your thumbs stroke softly over his spine. The feeling is warm and familiar. Whenever he’s feeling down, you do it, you massage the muscles of his lower back, let your fingers trace over his spine.

“I–it’s just.. Sam and the others—“ he breathes out, voice shaking. “It’s all so new. I–I want it to be perfect. Babydoll, please, I–I try. So hard, promise.”

And you believe him. Of course, you do. You’re just too understanding. Too lovely.

But he doesn’t want you to understand it. He doesn’t want you to forgive him. At least not immediately. He wants you to shout, to hate — so he can drown in the pain for a moment longer. A pain he caused. A pain you have to feel because of him.

“But it’s as perfect as it can be. Nothing is perfect in a way that everyone sees it as perfection. But it doesn’t matter,” you whisper, pecking his nose. “It doesn’t have to be perfect for anyone but us.”

“I know… I know, but—“ he whispers, closing his eyes to enjoy the softness of your lips lingering against his skin a moment longer. “It’s just… for them I’m just that fuckboy. Every night, another girl. Never a girl more than a fuck. But not for you. Never for you, babydoll. For you, I’m just Bucky.”

“You’re not just Bucky for me,” you growl slightly.

He’s everything than ’just’ for you. You feel anger boiling inside of you. But also understanding.

He’s known for who he was. And no one knows the man you know. So, of course, it’s new to him and it’s natural he wants to make it special — make it perfect.

Unfortunately, he misses the imperfection of perfection. Nothing will be perfect for everyone, but for you, the relationship with Bucky is perfect the way it is. He doesn’t have to impress you, he doesn’t have to prove himself — because he already did. But somehow, he’s missing that part in his thoughts.

“If you don’t want them to know, that’s fine. But please talk to me. I don’t wanna find out the way I just did, Buck,” you mutter. And he nods. Taking in everything you say.

He knows he fucked up. But you’re not mad, you’re not mad at him.

“I want them to know. I want the world to know. But—“ he takes a shaky breath, his fingers that still frame your face tighten slightly. “But what if they all know and ha-hate it? They won’t like it, I’m no good for you, and they might hate me because… you’re so sweet and I’m so me. I don’t want that bubble we are in to pop because they make you realize that I'm not enough for you.”

Your heart was broken before? Yes. But now? It’s literally shattered into a million pieces like sand in the desert.

Another sob wrecks his body as he hides his face in your neck, muttering against your skin how sorry he is. So you just stand there again, letting him cry as you comfort him with your hands stroking his back softly.

It’s what he needs. It's what you need.

After a moment, he kisses your neck, not pulling away. But it’s enough for you to know that he is calm enough to keep talking.

Your heart is heavy with all the pain he’s feeling. Forgetting the pain you felt yourself, you only want these ocean blue eyes to brighten, and these plump lips to twitch upward in that cute, charming smile of his.

A smile he reserves only for you. A smile that belongs to you.

“I don’t care what they think. And they won’t make me realise something that’s not true–“

“But—“

“Let me talk first, Buck,” you whisper softly, and he nods, taking a deep breath before he slides his tattooed fingers along your neck.

He just needs to feel you right now. Needs to feel your softness and maybe your forgiveness is enough for him to forgive himself, too.

“I know who you are. I knew about your history with girls. But I decided to be with you. Because you showed me a side of you only I get to see,” you mumble, kissing his temple. “I love you, Bucky. I don’t care what they say. Never will. But please, talk to me next time. I shouldn’t have run away, though.”

“I will. Promise. Will talk to ya, babydoll. I will make it up,” he whispers against your neck, kissing his way up to your jaw.

His lips are soft, warm. And you can almost ignore the cool night surrounding you. Because right there, with Bucky’s body pressed so tightly against you, you’re so warm.

“I love you, sweetheart. Love ya so much, so fuckin’ much,” he whispers, inhaling your scent before he pushes back slightly.

His eyes meet yours. Piercing blue eyes, still red rimmed, but behind the regret and pain, you see the softness, the light that’s shining so bright for you. Only for you.

“Can we go home now? It’s cold,” you giggle softly. “But I don’t know where we are, and uhm… I’m glad you’re here, Buck. Thank you.”

“No! I-I’m the one, baby. I have to thank you. For bearing with me! For loving me. Thank you so much, my babydoll. My precious babydoll.” He hums, leaning closer to kiss you before he remembers what you said.

You’re cold. You were lost. But not anymore. You will never be lost, he will make sure of it.

“I will run after you whenever you wanna run away. Will never let you get lost ever again, sweetheart,” he whispers before taking off his jacket and putting it over your shoulders. “Let’s get home, it’s freezing. And we don’t want to turn into popsicles, do we?”

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whisperedmeg · 3 days ago

Text

RE-ENTRY BURN ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part vi

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: spencer returns to the field, and the soft parts of him begin to harden. together, they search for a way to hold on.

genre: hurt/comfort, like kinda fluff if you squint I guess?

w/c: 2.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, spencer goes back to work, reader gets anxious again but for a diff reason, spencer is still a reassuring sweetie pie, reader meets (part of) the bau, just some kissing but nothing more than that, big moment in their relationship !!

a/n: I wrote, erased, and rewrote the second half of this chapter like five separate times before I was happy with it and I’m still not 100% convinced, so I hope it turned out okay. no spoilers but there’s some major payoff at the end in this one 🙂‍↕️. as always, thank you sm to everyone who has followed this series so far 🫶🏼

series masterlist

The call came on a Thursday morning.

Spencer was sitting on my living room floor, back against the couch, flipping through a book of poetry he insisted he didn’t like but kept rereading anyway. I was in the kitchen in one of his old t-shirts, buttering toast and making an omelette and wondering if I had time for a shower before my shift. The air smelled like coffee and rain. It felt like a quiet, ordinary kind of day.

Then his phone rang. And I watched everything in his body go still.

“Yes,” he said after picking up. “This is Dr. Reid.”

His fingers tightened around the phone. His spine straightened. I turned off the burner.

I didn’t try to listen, but I didn’t leave the room either. He only said a few words: Okay. Thank you. I understand. See you soon. But when he hung up, he didn’t just look different — he looked lit up, like something dormant had just sparked back to life.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a second, then looked at me with wide, stunned eyes.

“That was them?”

He nodded slowly. Then, voice thick with disbelief and something close to awe: “They’re taking me back. I’m reinstated.”

For a beat, all we did was stare at each other.

Then I crossed the room and launched myself at him. He caught me, laughing, and spun us around so fast we nearly knocked over a vase.

“Oh my god,” I said, cupping his face. “Spencer, that’s amazing. You did that.”

“I didn’t think—” he broke off, blinking fast. “I thought it would take longer. Or that they’d changed their minds.”

I kissed him, hard and messy and happy and full of relief. He kissed me back just as fiercely, both hands buried in my hair. We were still tangled in each other when the real weight of it started to settle between us.

I pulled back slightly, breathless. “So… what happens now?”

“I report to Quantico next week. There’s some re-entry protocol — updated field certifications, paperwork, so on. Then I’m back on the team.” He paused, then added, “Back on the jet.”

I nodded, trying to keep my smile steady. “Right. Of course.”

But a quiet fear had already begun to curl into my chest — something I didn’t want to name. The fear that maybe the version of Spencer I’d come to know, the one who made me coffee with too much cinnamon and traced my shoulder blades with reverence, was only who he was here, with me.

Who was he when he was chasing monsters across state lines again? Who was I to him in that world?

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching for my hand. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. “I’m so, so happy for you. And I want this for you. I… I just don’t know what it means for us. I don’t know that version of you. Your life is about to get a lot bigger, and I’m still here, going back and forth to Millburn, in scrubs, on twelve-hour shifts, staying exactly the same.”

“You think I’m going to leave you behind?”

I paused. “I don’t really think that. But I still fear it. Which might be worse.”

His grip tightened slightly. “I’m not going anywhere. But… I know this will change things. I just don’t know how yet.”

We sat with that — the not-knowing. It was becoming a constant companion.

He exhaled slowly, his forehead resting against mine. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

—

His first day back, I packed him lunch.

It felt stupid and too intimate and maybe a little bit like denial, but I did it anyway. Hummus, cut-up vegetables, and fruit, plus two hardboiled eggs he’d probably forget to eat. Spencer had a habit of doing that — starting a meal but then getting too absorbed in his work or the documentary on TV or the book in his lap to remember to finish it. I tucked in a note before I could overthink it: You’ve survived worse. Just breathe. You’re gonna be great.

He texted me later to say thank you. Then I didn’t hear from him for six hours.

I tried not to spiral.

When he finally walked into his apartment, he looked… different. Not bad, but sharper. Like someone had ironed some of the softness out of him. I was already waiting for him on his couch — he’d given me my own key last week and told me to use it.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Strange,” he said honestly. “Good. Overwhelming.”

I kissed him and tried to pretend I wasn’t searching his eyes for cracks.

—

By day three, he was already packing an overnight bag.

“There’s a case,” he said, tucking mismatched socks into a duffel. “We think there’s an unsub targeting sex workers.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching. “That was fast.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the job.”

The words landed harder than he probably meant. I swallowed thickly.

“Will I get to know where you are?”

He turned, reaching for me. “You can know everything I’m allowed to tell you. I won’t shut you out.”

I nodded, because I didn’t trust my voice.

He kissed me once — soft and lingering — and then he was gone.

—

The next few days passed slowly.

He texted when he landed in Denver. Again when they reached the local precinct. That first night, he called me from his hotel room. His voice was tired but steady, full of soft reassurances: I’m okay. I’m thinking about you. I wish you were here.

But the check-ins were short. Sporadic. Sometimes twelve hours went by without a word, and I had to remind myself he was just busy. That it wasn’t about me. That he had bigger things to worry about. That he wasn’t retreating.

Still, I found myself staring at my phone more than I wanted to admit. Writing texts I didn’t send. Wondering if this low, quiet ache in my chest was normal or the beginning of something harder.

When he got back four days later, he smelled like airplane soap and adrenaline. His arms were around me the second he was through my front door, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“I missed you,” he murmured against my hair.

I squeezed him closer. “I missed you every second.”

Then he pulled back, and I saw it — the part of him that was already half gone again.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Are you?”

“I’m tired. But yeah.”

“Did you eat the eggs?”

He blinked. “What?”

“In the lunch I packed. On your first day back.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth. “I forgot.”

—

That weekend, Spencer’s work friends invited him out to a nice dinner downtown.

He insisted I join him. Said he wanted me there. That he wanted me to meet more of his team, and that they wanted to meet me, too.

I said yes because I could tell it meant a lot to him — and because I genuinely did want to meet the people closest to him — but I was a nervous wreck over it. I felt like I was going to be interviewed by the people who had known him for years, who had pulled him from blood-soaked crime scenes and watched him unravel and rebuild more than once. People — profilers — who could probably read body language as easily as breathing. People who would know if I was feeling even just a little bit off.

Penelope nearly vibrated with joy when Spencer and I walked into the restaurant, hugging me like I was a gift-wrapped surprise. JJ gave me her usual perceptive, friendly smile, the kind that made me feel both seen and slightly exposed.

But it was meeting Emily and Rossi for the first time that made me sweat.

Emily shook my hand with polite warmth, but her eyes were sharp. Measuring. Assessing. As if she couldn’t help it. As if it was hardwired into her, the way it was hardwired into me to check pupils and track vitals. Rossi gave me a smile so charming it almost felt intimidating — not because he was skeptical, but because he was paying close attention, the way you do when someone you love finally lets you see something they’ve been protecting.

I did my best to hold my own. I answered questions about myself — my job at the infirmary, the story of how Spencer and I met (they loved hearing how I’d given him my number via scrabble tiles), what I liked to do outside of work. I laughed when they teased Spencer about still being the worst at remembering to eat, and about the time he tried to explain string theory at a retirement party and knocked over an entire cheese platter mid-metaphor. He rolled his eyes and claimed it was an unfair exaggeration, but his ears turned pink.

There was a moment when Emily asked what had drawn me to Spencer, and a million different answers piled up in my throat all at once. I just smiled and said, “He’s easy to care about. Even at his lowest, he was still always the kindest person in the room. Plus, he even pretended to feel bad when he kicked my ass in chess.”

Garcia let out a delighted little sound, pressing her hand to her heart. JJ’s eyes softened with something almost protective. Rossi gave an approving nod and raised his glass. And Emily — she didn’t quite smile, but her shoulders loosened, like she was easing off an invisible trigger.

Still, the entire dinner felt a little like walking a tightrope — one foot in Spencer’s universe, the other still hovering over mine. I couldn’t tell if I was holding my breath or just trying to match their rhythm.

“You okay?” JJ asked gently while we waited for dessert. “It’s a lot, I know.”

“Being part of this world?”

She tilted her head. “Being with someone who spends half their life chasing ghosts.”

I smiled tightly. “I haven’t quite figured out where I fit yet.”

“You don’t have to know today,” she said. “But if you care about him — and it’s pretty clear you do — then hang on. He’s worth the turbulence.”

I looked over at Spencer, who was in the middle of arguing with Garcia about the probability of alien life as if the past six months hadn’t nearly broken him. His hands moved as he spoke, his expression animated, utterly absorbed in the debate. There was something so familiar about it — the way he lit up, the way he met the world with open palms and big questions. Like the worst thing had already happened, and now he was trying to believe in wonder again.

“I know he is,” I said softly. “But turbulence still leaves you breathless sometimes.”

—

Later, in the car, Spencer took my hand. “You okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.”

I shrugged, watching the city pass by through the window. “I’m just tired. It was a good night.”

He glanced over at me, unconvinced but gentle.

“I really like Penelope,” I added. “She always hugs me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“She thinks you are,” he said, no hesitation. “And she’s right.”

I smiled, feeling my cheeks warm. “And JJ. She’s… perceptive. And kind. Like she sees things but doesn’t make you feel too exposed.”

His thumb brushed across my knuckles, slow and steady.

“And Emily was warm in a scary, FBI-chief sort of way. I was terrified she hated me, but then she made that joke about your hair and I felt like I passed some kind of test.”

Spencer let out a soft laugh. “That’s exactly how you know she likes you.”

“And Rossi’s stories are even better than you said they’d be,” I continued. “Though I’m still not convinced that the one about the ambassador’s wife and Ringo Starr actually happened.”

“Oh, it definitely did.”

That made me laugh. I leaned my head back against the seat, exhaling. “It was a good night, Spence. Really.”

Spencer smiled softly, but didn’t say anything. His thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against my hand — like he was trying to ground me without interrupting whatever was unraveling inside my head.

I hesitated. “It’s just…”

He waited, thumb still brushing lightly over my knuckles. I kept my gaze on the window.

“It’s strange,” I said slowly. “Watching you slip back into your world so naturally. Not in a bad way — it’s a good kind of strange. But I’m still figuring out where I fit.” I paused for a beat. “Sometimes I worry I’m just watching your life take off without me.”

He turned to look at me, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “That’s not what’s happening.”

“I know,” I murmured. “But it feels that way sometimes. You’re re-entering a life that’s so much bigger than I ever knew, and I’m still finding my place in it.”

His fingers tightened gently around mine. “You’re not on the outside of this. You never were. You’ve always had a place with me.”

I nodded, though the ache lingered. “I know, Spence. It’s just… kind of a lot, I guess. I wasn’t ready for how much of it existed before me, which I know sounds incredibly silly.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled the car over with a soft turn of the wheel, settling us into the stillness of a side street, headlights casting long shadows through the trees. Then he turned toward me fully.

“You’re part of my life,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “The best part. I just need you to trust that I’m still in this. Even when I’m gone on cases. Even when I come home wrecked and quiet. I’m still with you.”

I looked at him then, really looked. At the man who had once been shattered, who had let me see every broken edge, who had handed me the glue and trusted me not to cut myself as I helped him put the pieces back together. And who now was flying straight toward the storm again, because that’s what he was made to do.

“I trust that,” I said softly. “I really do. I just don’t want to be the thing that keeps you grounded if what you really need is flight.”

His brow softened, and he reached across the console to cup my jaw, thumb brushing just beneath my cheekbone, tender and steady. “You’re not holding me down,” he said. “You’re giving me a reason to land.”

My throat tightened. The knot in my chest loosened — not all the way, but enough. I nodded, blinking against the rush of everything that wanted to spill out.

He gave my hand a final squeeze and slowly pulled back onto the road.

And this time, I really did let myself believe him.

—

That night, we didn’t sleep right away. We just… laid there, wrapped around each other, quiet and breathing like the hush itself was sacred. His hand rested against my back, fingers tracing slow, absent-minded lines — like he was etching something into the moment to keep forever.

It all felt different now. Not just tender, but certain. Like something had settled between us that couldn’t be undone.

He shifted slightly, just enough to look at me. His eyes moved across my face like he was studying it, memorizing it, letting the silence stretch long enough to make my breath catch.

Then he said, softly but without hesitation, “I love you.”

No preamble. No buildup. Just the truth, laid bare between us.

It hit me like a tidal wave, sudden and warm and full. I think part of me had been waiting for him to say that — aching for it, really. I had felt it already, but still, actually hearing it aloud cracked something open in my chest.

I blinked hard and reached for him, tracing his cheek with the backs of my fingers.

“I love you too,” I whispered. “I think I have for a while now.”

Something in him shifted — softened, unknotted. He exhaled like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. And then his lips curled into a smile so bright it almost hurt.

“You mean it?”

I nodded, and his smile deepened, eyes full of hope. “I think I’ve been waiting to hear that since the moment I met you,” he murmured.

Then he kissed me — slow and deep. Not hurried or desperate, just honest. His lips on mine like he was saying it again with his mouth, his hands, his whole body:

I’m here. I’m yours. I’m trying. I love you.

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hollyoongs · 2 days ago

Text

⤷ MY BABY WILL BE YOURS!

시놉시스 ┆idol!𝘁͟aesan, ─────⠀f!reader 𓂅 𝑤.𝑐: +2k ꒰ ⌗ smut with plot, fluff to the end ꒱ ↷⠀ ℰditoral ! 𓂂

─────⠀reader is ovulating (oh boy) and with birth control, baby fever!!!! (just in case it wasn't clear), creampie (and yes, breeding kink), praise, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, possessiveness, rough sex, dirty talk (mutual), one partial undressing scene, multiple orgasms, first time squirting (let me know if I'm missing something)

Taesan was on cloud nine; the smile on his face—even after little Bom had fallen asleep in his arms—couldn't be erased even if someone tried to knock it off with a punch.

All the interaction felt so natural. The soft weight of her body leaning against him, the sound of her tiny giggles when he played with her dinosaur toys, the clumsy high-fives, and how she tried to say his name—Tae-tae!—all of it tugged at something deep in his chest.

He remembered playing with his little sister when she was that small, but it felt different in a good way. Due to his past experience, the staff kept praising him, calling him a "natural," saying how amazing he was with the baby and how in the future, he would be a good dad. And maybe they were right.

His manager drove him to your place. He had two free days, and he asked if he could stay with you. Not having seen each other for a while, you with college and him on tour complicated things. Thankfully, they agreed. His mind kept replaying the day's events. The more he thought about it, he missed out on the moment the reality started to turn into fantasy.

He wasn't a guest on a children's reality show—he started to see himself as a dad. A real one. With a baby that shared his eyes and your smile. You, next to him, wearing one of his shirts, a soft glow in your cheeks as you played with the baby as the mother of his child.

"We arrived. Please be careful, Taesan. Sasaengs are really something else."

“Huh?” He blinked, startled out of the daydream. “Right—thanks.”

He stepped out, grabbing the small overnight bag he had packed the night before while telling you the news in one of your many night calls. As he reached your door, he didn’t even have to knock. You opened it before he had the chance. You’d been standing there waiting for him, smile wide, eyes soft.

You barely had time to say hi before his arms were around your body, mouth on yours.

"Woah—someone missed me," you teased, laughing as he kicked the door shut behind him and pressed your back against it.

"Yeah, I did." His whispered words landed on your ears. You look at his eyes. Actually, you were looking at the intensity they were carrying. You noticed how his hands roamed your body, their grip tighter than usual, needier. You decided to kiss him back when his lips touched yours again, melting into him, until he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes.

"As you know, I took care of Bom," he said, and you smiled a little despite how breathless the kiss made you. "And behind the scenes, she called me appa. Got me thinking a little bit too much."

You couldn't help the chuckle that left your mouth, the mere thought of it warming your heart.

"What did you think, Dongmin?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. About us," he took a brief moment before whispering again. "About making one"

Your lips parted, and you hate to admit it, but the words made your body bloom with heat. "You're serious?"

He nodded, crowding you back until your thighs hit the couch. "Dead serious. I want you swollen with my baby. I want a family with you."

Then his mouth was on you again—this time rougher, his hands finally slipping under your clothes, tugging his stolen shirt up over your head without a care, leaving you only with your panties and bra, too busy making you feel everything.

"I kept thinking about you," he said between kisses, dragging them to your neck, where your eyes fluttered shut in delight. "What you'd look like... carrying my baby. Fuck—your tits, your belly..."

His hand dropped to your ass, gripping it tightly as he sat down and pulled you into his lap, straddling him. Your arms locked around his neck, your body fitting perfectly against his.

"... My ring on your finger," he finished with a growl.

"Fuck—Dongmin," you gasped, throwing your head back the moment his hands helped you ground your hips against the bulge already straining beneath his jeans.

You bit your lip. You knew dirty talk was his thing—he thrived on it, got off on hearing the filth that poured out of his own mouth when you both were intimate. But after that very brief talk, something inside you shifted. Maybe it was the way he always looked at you, or it was the way he’d said he wanted to make one—a baby, a future. Whatever it was, it loosened your tongue.

He sighed, his hand took a step further and slid under your panties to cup your bare ass. His fingers dug more when you started grinding on him, a brief pre-game of what was about to happen in a few minutes, probably even less.

You started another make-out session; it was getting even messier, tongues having a fight that he won the moment his hand grabbed the back of your head, deepening the kiss even more. He broke the kiss, but his lips were caressing each other. "You feel it, baby?"

He whispered, dragging his teeth along your jaw. You simply nodded. "That's what you do to me. Just thinking about filling you up got me this hard."

Your eyes looked for his, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-bruised, skin hot under your finger. You could bet that you looked the same. You swallowed hard, gaining confidence at the look of his state before speaking.

"I want all of you, Taesan." You whispered, breath catching, feeling your panties were getting sticky. "Please... fill me up, baby. I will take... every drop."

His eyes opened, the look in his eyes turning completely into lust. He pulled his jeans down just enough to free his cock, thick and flushed at the tip, precum already leaking, making you smile with pride. He flipped you onto your back on the couch, moving your panties aside.

He was finally over you, between your thighs, lining himself up. You were so wet that he thrust into you in one deep, punishing stroke, and you cried out, clutching at his back when he started to set a brutal rhythm, his hips practically slapping against yours, your breath only coming in sharp gasps beneath him.

He fucked you like a man possessed—even going as far as to put one of his hands right where his bulge could be seen going in and out of you. You have never felt your orgasm coming to you that fast; your eyes rolled back when the thumb of his other hand started to rub circles over your clit.

He felt how you clenched around him hard, making his thrust sloppier as he also started to reach his own climax.

"Come on, love," he rasped. "I want you to cum while I fill you up. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes! Just don't—fuck—don't stop." Your back arched as pleasure ripped through you, your hands wrapped around his arms, and you could feel how his spill was starting to get you full. He hid his head on your neck, hips jerking with every pulse.

He slowly collapsed over you, sweat-slick against yours, and lips pressed in your cheek. Still buried inside you, he kissed down your throat, letting his hips roll painfully slowly, testing how sensitive you were now.

He smiled when you whimpered, your body twitching at the overstimulation. You tried to squirm away, but when he grabbed your waist and held you still, you knew he was not having it.

"You are not leaving anywhere, I told you."

"Taesan," you gasped, nails digging into his biceps. "You already came—"

You saw the clear smirk being formed on his face. "Yeah, and I meant it when I said I wasn't pulling out. Take every single load until I'm sure you're knocked up."

You stop breathing when he moved briefly. He was getting harder again. "I don't hear you complaining, though," he added, this time pulling out until just the tip remained before snapping his hips back in, a cry leaving your throat in disbelief.

You swallow dry, locking your hooded eyes into him. "I'm not," you moaned, wrapping your shaky legs around his waist. "I want you to fuck me stupid and cum inside me again."

Again, his eyes opened. He never thought you would actually talk dirty to him again. He saw that faint smile on your face when your eyes darted at his red ears. "Please, Dongmin, I want to feel it leaking out for hours."

"Ah, fuck you." He grabbed your thighs hard and lifted you with him, carrying you to the bedroom in one quick motion. You clung to him, his cock never leaving your body.

The moment he dropped you onto the bed, he stripped his clothes off in a blur, his cock flushed and heavy against his stomach. Your bra joined the pile of clothes in seconds, and he moaned—actually moaned—when he saw your bare chest.

The view made him start pounding on you again—harder than before, to the point your eyes fluttered shut as you became a moaning mess.

The sound of skin slapping could actually cause a sound complaint from your neighbor; your breathless moans were caught by his lips as he kissed you deeply.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pressing hot kisses between your breasts, hypnotized by how they move like ocean waves. “I missed these. They’re going to be pretty swollen with milk.”

He dragged his tongue up to your nipple and took it into his mouth. The action itself brought sweet pain that made your back arch, your fingers tangling in his already messy hair.

"Tell me again, baby," he said through gritted teeth, his tip hitting your cervix every single time, like he always does. "You were brave before. Tell me how badly you want my baby."

"I want it so much, baby. I want your cum dripping out of every—fuck!" You were cut mid-sentence as he put your legs over his shoulders.

He lost rhythm for a second at your words before fucking you again with the same determination.

"Fuck, how can you be so tight? I'm touching heaven," your hands tried to touch his biceps, a sign you always did when you wanted to ride him. He grabbed them before it touched him, putting them on each side of your head.

“Not tonight,” he said. “Tonight I do everything. You just take it, princess.”

You didn't even realize how the bed rocked beneath you; his free hand moved between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, incoherent words were falling from your lips, and the only loud and clear word was his name. The sheets beneath you twisted in your fists, a clear sign of how the pleasure was building up.

"Louder, baby," he said, sweat sliding down his temples as he kept the pace brutal and steady. "Let the neighbors know how good I make you feel."

His cock was slamming deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot and treating your clit. He kept your legs folded up, pressed to his chest, with his hips grinding into the heat of your soaked cunt that was getting even more wet.

"I can feel you're about to," he sighed before he could also finish his sentence. Your walls wrapping him so good were the reason for his loss of words. "Gonna fall apart for me?"

You couldn't answer—your body was trembling, legs shaking against his shoulder, the pressure building faster than usual. Your belly tightened and your muscles locked around him as a helpless cry tore from your throat.

"Shit, it's—it's too—!"

"Yes, you can, baby." He was dragging his body over yours, eyes engraving all your facial expressions into his mind. "Give it to me. Show me how—god—much you want me to fuck my baby into you."

The new sensation was making your head fuzzy; his thumb pressed harder as his hips pistoned with a perfect precision, combining to send you into complete bliss.

Your body seized beneath him as a hot wave of pleasure ripped through you. Your thighs shook violently on each side of his head, a scream caught in your throat as liquid gushed from between your legs, soaking his abs, thighs, and the sheets—nonstop.

Taesan froze for a beat, his eyes wide for the third time in a day, cock buried to the hilt as he watched you come undone like never before.

"Holy fuck," he breathed, a pure stunned tone in his words. "You just squirted, baby."

You could only whimper, way too overstimulated and dazed. Your hips were twitching as aftershocks rippled through you. He slowly eased out, eyes fully locked on the glistening mess between your thighs; the delightful combination of his cum mixed with yours caused him to lick his lips.

"Look at you," he murmured as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, dragging your hips forward. "Made a mess just from me fucking you the way you deserve."

You tried—really tried—to close your legs, his hands keeping them apart, spreading you open to admire the way you pulsed and throbbed, still dripping. His impulse won when he got near your cunt, licking a long stripe up your inner thigh, humming against your heat.

He saw you covering your face with your hands and smiled a little. "Don't hide from me now, princess," he said with tenderness and pride—a lot of it. "That was one of the many hottest things you have done."

You removed your hands from your face. "I didn't mean to, Dongmin."

"Hey, don't ever say that," he said, kissing your knees as his hand caressed your leg. "That was beautiful. You're beautiful."

You laughed weakly; you saw him climbing back over you.

You blinked up at him, still breathless, flushed all over.

"How was my dirty talking?" you asked, cheeks pink and laughing softly alongside your boyfriend. With a soft smile on his face, he brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead as he looked down at you with utter adoration.

"You really surprised me," he said, his grin more evident. "In the best way possible."

He leaned in softly to gently kiss your cheek, then your jaw, and finally your lips—playful and tender. "I didn’t realize you had it in you. You got me so turned on I almost lost it right then."

You couldn’t help but giggle, tucking your face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer. Your legs rested over his as your bodies relaxed together. His fingers lazily traced gentle patterns on your thigh, his voice soft and warm against your ear.

After a moment of silence, he spoke. "I meant what I said." You looked at him, his eyes already in you, his hand went to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. "I only want a family if you are by my side."

─── NEW FORMAT CHANGE! after the pool, i decided i will do this change, plus it has been a while since i posted for bnd (plus first smut of them). HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT LOVES ♡ @onedoornet

#𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝑦𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠! ৎ ˚⋅#onedoornet #taesan smut #taesan x reader #taesan imagines #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor x reader #bnd smut #han taesan #han dongmin #hard thoughts #hard hours

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wemalyri · 1 day ago

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— ON THE BEACH ⋆｡°⭒˚｡⋆

𐙚⋆° heeseung × fem!reader / genre: est. relationship, fluff, smut (MDNI) / ~2k words

warnings: mentions of the car sex, sex in a public place, mutual mastirbation, unprotected sex (don't!), mention of getting caught, dirty talk, praise, use of petnames (baby, sweetheart), I would say pretty sweet and soft

a/n: i wrote it really randomly.... thanks to the edit with heeseung that made me find out about the song and inspired me! (I have one more draft with a heeseung fic inspired by a tate mcrae song btw)

if you liked the fic, pls repost, like or leave a comment!

You two had gone already three or four times — you couldn't remember. With his mouth on your wet folds, licking all clean, with his fingers, rubbing your cunt, with his dick, buried deep inside you. Everything — in his car with the rolled down windows that weren't hiding the sounds you two were making inside.

Originally, it was a planned trip to a beach. Something relaxing, fantastic, that could distract you from daily life and help to escape from the reality of deadlines and endless tasks. But it ended up in you two finding another way to relax, making a mess in Heeseung's car — he couldn't care less because his baby is you, not the car.

When you finally stepped out of the small space, hanging the door open, you immediately felt the fresh sea breeze. You closed your eyes, spreading your arms and inhaling the air, while Heeseung was still in the backseat, adjusting himself and zipping up his shorts. When he stepped out of the car, you felt his hands settling on your waist, his chest pressing to your back.

"Doesn't it feel good?" you asked, not looking away from the sun, that was about to hide in the horizont of the water.

"I think it felt better back in the car," Heeseung joked with a sly grin, making you slightly hit his hand. "No, seriously. I think we should go back," he added, causing you to roll your eyes.

"We came here for the beach," you whined, turning around to face Heeseung. "You promised," a slight pout on your face softened his expression. He affectionately rubbed your arms, looking into your eyes.

"I'm sorry, babe. I was joking," Heeseung gently cupped your face, kissing your forehead, then pulling your head to lay on his chest. You wrapped hands around his waist, enjoying the warmth of his body. Heeseung rubbed your back, leaving a kiss on your temple.

You two headed to the beach. It was quite abandoned — a place that someone could hardly find. A bunch of trees were covering the most part of it, so it felt like you were on the uninhabitated island. The sun was settling down, only the crying of the seagulls could be heard. One of the Heeseung's hands was holding a basket with a picnic mat, another one — your hand.

You laid the mat on the sand and sat down in silence, watching the scenery peacefully. Your eyes caught Heeseung's beautiful profile — his relaxed eyebrows, sparkling deer eyes, straight nose, puffy lips. You still couldn't believe that was your boyfriend.

"I'm glad there are no people here," you mindlessly said. "We can enjoy the view alone, focus on each other with no distractions."

"You know that even if there were people, my eyes would be only on you, right?" Heeseung's words naturally left his mouth — not trying to rizz, to flirt. They were sincere. When you looked into his eyes, they were full of endless love and affection.

Your gaze moved down to his lips. Heeseung noticed. Just after a few seconds of silence, the lips that you were looking at were on yours.

Heeseung's hand moved to your hair, holding you at place, another one rested on your back, encouraging to lean closer to him. His lips were softly moving against yours, already making your head spin. You wrapped hands around his neck, immediately straddling his lap. He rested both of his hands on your waist, tracing them down to your hips.

When Heeseung slipped hands under your shorts, making an attempt to touch your clothed core, you quickly stopped him. He pulled away from the kiss in slight confusion. You stood up, sitting on the mat across from him.

"Babe?" Heeseung enquired with frowned eyebrows.

"I love you," you softly said, looking into his eyes and taking off your shorts. His eyes traveled down your body. "And I'll touch myself for you," you slipped your hand under your shirt, slowly caressing your bare skin of the stomach and moving up your breasts. His breathing hitched. "Watch me," you whispered before hissing, when your fingers pinched your nipple.

Heeseung's mouth slightly opened, but he didn't hesitate and leaned back, holding himself on his arms and watching you like it was a movie. The most interesting, fascinating movie he'd ever seen.

"Take off your shirt, baby. I wanna see your pretty tits while you're touching yourself," Heeseung softly commanded, his eyes traveling down your body, stopping on your panties, wondering if they were already getting soaked.

You listened and pulled up your shirt, tossing it aside after. Your breasts on the display, nipples hard.

"Shit..." Heeseung groaned, already reaching for the zipper on his shorts. "Good girl," he praised, stroking himself through his boxers.

Your hands traveled all the way down your body, touching it everywhere — your breasts, your stomach, your thighs. When control finally felt to slip away and desire started aching between your legs, you whined.

"Wanna touch myself there," your thighs squeezed, trying to get some friction in between them.

Heeseung breathed out, watching you being desperate just from your own touches. That wasn't even his hands. With them, you would lose control already minutes ago.

"You can. But only through your panties," you sighed, already reaching for your aching core. "And don't rush," Heeseung commanded, seeing your desperation, "Take things slowly. Be gentle, baby."

Your shaking hand started slowly caressing your pussy through the panties you were wearing, finger tracing lines between your folds. Your eyebrows frowned, eyes slightly rolling down from the sensation.

Heeseung felt blessed from the sight in front of him. You, touching yourself like there is no other day. On the beach. Just for him. The only thought of having you like this was making his head spin and his cock semi-hard, even though he still hadn't touched it properly.

"Does it feel good, baby?" Heeseung asked, watching you starting to grind your hips against your fingers. "Are you wet down there already?"

"I am," you breathed out in a whiny voice. "Feels so good, Hee. But not as good as when you touch me."

A proud smirk spread on his face. "Is that so? But yet you are already wet. Tell me how wet you are, sweetheart."

His voice and dirty words only intensified the fire inside you. You didn't hesitate to obey, slowing down your fingers on purpose.

"So wet, Hee... My panties are soaked," Heeseung groaned, palming himself through his boxers. "If I took them off right now and touched myself, you could hear it more clearly."

"Do," he said in a low voice, already losing patience. "Take your panties off, baby."

You whimpered at the permission, slightly lifting yourself on your knees, finally pulling down your panties.

"Lay down on your back," Heeseung commanded, when you were already naked. You did as he said, spreading your legs before him. "Shit..." he breathed out, seeing your wet pussy so close and spread just for him. "Just like that, baby. Let me see all of you."

When you finally touched yourself with no barrier, it felt like heaven. Your pussy immediately clenched, sensitive from all the previous waiting. Heeseung pushed his hand under the boxers, pulling out his already hard cock. When you looked at that, your back immediately arched, pussy clenching again.

"Want your cock, Hee," you whined, fasting the speed of your fingers in desperation. The wet sounds now clear in the air.

Heeseung groaned, stroking his cock at the sight. He couldn't take it anymore — seeing you so wet and spread before him, not able to touch what belonged to him.

He snapped out, moving from his position to your body, immediately pressing it to the mat. His hard cock accidentally touched your core, making you two moan.

Heeseung's hands finally settled on your hips, holding you in place, his cock brushing against your folds, savoring the wetness you made just for him.

"H-Hee," you whined, throwing your head back. "Please...I can't wait anymore."

Heeseung drowned in your pleas, taking his cock in his hand to line with your entrance. He traced its tip against your folds a few more times, making you whimper in impatience. When he finally slid inside, it felt like heaven. Like everything was finally on its own place — you under Heeseung, his cock inside you.

He didn't need to give you time to adjust to his size — you were already stretched after a few rounds in his car. Heeseung started slowly moving his hips, pushing all the way in and out.

"So tight... even after I stretched you out so well in the car. It'll never be enough, yes, baby?" he mumbled in your ear, his cock slowly moving inside you.

You desperately shook your head. "Never. Want your cock inside me forever," Heeseung groaned at your words, slamming all the way in and hitting that one spot that made you gasp.

"That's it, baby. Such a good girl for me," he mumbled in your lips before kissing you. The kiss was firm and made the tie in your stomach tighten even more. His hips started moving faster, speeding the rhythm and causing you to moan in Heeseung's mouth. He pulled away from your lips, burying his face in your neck and leaving fresh marks against old ones there. "Don't hold back. Scream my name. No one's here anyway."

You didn't need to be told twice. Every time Heeseung hit the spot inside you, your moans were getting louder. His pace was rapid, trying to give you two that expected release. The sweat was dripping down his forehead right on you.

When Heeseung lifted your thighs, placing them on his shoulders, the new angle started feeling too good.

"Shitshitshit Hee, I'm so close," you managed to mumble, and it felt like he only started pounding into you deeper.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered in your ear, and it made you completely loose. You came with a loud moan, Heeseung's hips not stopping, chasing his own high and prolonging your orgasm. When he finally came to an edge too, you felt his seed spilling inside you. After a while he stopped moving his hips, lying on top of you. You both were heavily breathing.

When you seemed to calm down, Heeseung slowly pulled away, making you two gasp, still sensitive after an orgasm. He leaned to kiss your dump forehead, whispering praises.

"You did so well. Just as always," his lips were all over your face, softly soothing after an intense action. "And I love you too."

You two sat on the mat for a while, enjoying the already darkened sky, then gathered your things and headed to the car. To your surprise, there was another car standing next to yours. Heeseung and you glanced at each other, acknowledging its presence. Then your eyes caught a group of people that was standing next to a car. All of them looked at you two with unbearable expressions on their faces. Like they knew something.

Or heard.

Or saw.

You shyly looked away, putting up with the thought that five strangers probably heard you screaming Heeseung's name. Or maybe even saw your naked bodies, crushing against each other on the mat.

Heeseung noticed your reaction and protectively wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at unfamiliar people with a threat. He guided you to his car, opening a door for you. Inside of it, you were silent. Heessung covered your hand with his, caressing your skin.

"Let them be jealous. They don't know what they're missing."

You gave him a small smile, intertwining your fingers with his. "I love you," you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"I love you too," Heeseung answered with a smile, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Being caught in the middle of the act by a group of strangers didn't bother you anymore. You loved your boyfriend too much. That's why after you arrived at your place, you had another one round in his car.

And another one in the bed.

And maybe another one in the shower.

You loved your boyfriend too much. And he loved you too much even more.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #heeseung #heeseung×reader #heeseung fanfic #heeseung imagines #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fluff #wemalyri writes

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sapphicandgraphic · 1 day ago

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Sick As A Dog—Chapter 4

Summary: You’re a dog walker. When your favorite clients notice you’re not feeling well, they insist on taking care of you.

Chapter: 4/? In which we discover the healing powers of Dr. Strange and finally get some clarity on where we stand with WandaNat.

Warnings: Mostly still fluff and sick!fic hurt/comfort with growing sexual tension and KISSING. That’s right. Also some allusions to parental abuse, family trauma, runaway experiences. Reader continues to struggle with accepting help, relying on others, and accepting self-worth.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting and getting in touch to request the next chapter! I’m planning to continue this story since it’s striking a chord with people. If you want to show me some love, please subscribe to my Patreon channel — you can vote on what happens next, and get early access to future chapter updates!

You woke in a warm tangle of flushed skin and heavy limbs. Sunshine was streaming in through the window, casting a bright, buttery column of light across the ceiling. The storm had passed, and you could hear a faint rumble of traffic outside. Horns honking, engines backfiring. For a few delicious, dumbfounded seconds you had no idea where you were—and you didn’t care.

You stretched, trying to shake off the tendrils of feverish discomfort. But as soon as you moved, you felt something tighten around your waist. You frowned in confusion, blinking sleepily as everything came into sharper focus. The blankets. The pillows. The toned arm flung across your stomach. Oh.

“Noooo,” the owner of the arm grumbled. “Too early.”

Lifting the corner of the blanket carefully, you discovered Natasha wedged beside you in the bed. Her face was half-buried in a pillow and she scrunched her nose in displeasure as light streamed into her carefully constructed cave.

“Too bright,” she whined. You felt a crooked smile working its way across your face.

“Someone’s not a morning person,” you said, voice scratchy and low.

On your other side was Wanda, looking composed and elegant and impossibly pretty even in her sleep. Her head was draped protectively across your chest, one leg slotted over your hips like a seatbelt holding you in place.

Most mornings you woke up alone, before the first rays of dawn stretched along the avenues. You had a ritual of sorts, moving through the shadows swiftly, mechanically—rolling out of bed, making coffee, exercising. Your routine had been your lifeline for the last decade, providing structure and stability and refuge. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept in so late. It was…really nice. Dangerously nice. Waking up with them felt like coming home.

Before you could examine that thought too deeply, a voice in your head issued an automatic, familiar warning: Don’t get used to it. This was just a one-time thing, you reminded yourself. The lazy grin slipped off your face, the warm, dreamy feeling in your chest fizzling.

Wanda’s eyes fluttered open. Her hand automatically reached up, touching your cheek, your clammy brow. The sensation of her fingers made you shiver. You couldn’t resist leaning in. You turned your head to face her in the same moment that she lifted hers, bringing you close enough to kiss. You froze, locked in the position.

“Morning,” you rasped.

Wanda shifted, bringing her knee up between your legs. Your hips jerked forward at the pressure and you inhaled sharply. Wanda glanced down at your mouth, exercising great restraint as she finally tore her gaze away.

“You’re awake,” she said, giving you a sleepy, sexy smile.

You swallowed thickly.

“When did we decide to have a slumber party?” You asked, trying to ignore the sensation of Wanda’s warm breath on your neck, her hairs tickling your cheek. “Not that I’m complaining...”

Wanda sat up. “You don’t remember?”

Her words made you go completely still, and a low-grade anxiety blossomed in your throat. Wanda noticed the shift in your body language—the tension that took root in your muscles, the way a shadow of doubt flickered across your face.

“Relax,” Wanda instructed gently. She laid the palm of her hand against your chest. Your heartbeat hammered beneath her touch, flighty and too fast. “Deep breath for me.”

You instantly complied, feeling the tightness ease a bit.

“Did I…” you trailed off, not sure how to ask the question. “Shit, did I embarrass myself? Or make you and Nat uncomfortable? I should have just gone back to my place last night. I’m so sorry—“

Sensing your agitation, Nat’s grip on your waist loosened. She finally emerged from the blankets, hair tousled and eyes narrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Wanda sat up straighter, shifting slightly to give you some breathing room.

“You fell asleep downstairs,” she explained. “We put you to bed in here. I decided to…watch you sleep.”

She rushed through that last sentence, becoming a bit flustered. You noticed an adorable pink tint to her cheeks.

“You watched me sleep?” You repeated, unable to resist teasing her just a little bit.

Natasha chuckled, yawning. “Told you it was creepy.”

“It was not creepy!” Wanda insisted, voice a bit higher than normal as she attempted to characterize her actions in the proper light. She buried her face in her hands. “I was just worried about you.”

You softened, reaching out to pull her hands away. “Hey,” you said, smiling as she finally glanced at you. “I’m sure it was creepy in a cute way.”

She glared at you.

“Anyway,” she continued. “Then your fever got worse in the middle of the night.”

You squinted, struggling to follow her version of events.

Natasha reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “What do you remember?”

You frowned, realizing the previous night was rather hazy.

“I remember the movie,” you said. “And then…”

You concentrated. There were vague outlines of other memories: Natasha cradling you against her chest, carrying you up the stairs. Wanda tucking you in.

You felt your breath catch.

“Nat…took me upstairs,” you mumbled, feeling shy. “You tucked me in.”

Wanda smiled. “And then?”

You swallowed. There were a few vivid flashes of horrible dreams intermingled with snatches of real life….everything blended together so seamlessly that you struggled to differentiate what had really happened and what had been a figment of your imagination.

“Nightmares,” you admitted softly, eyes going wide and glassy. A shiver worked its way up your frame.

Natasha scooted closer to you, pulling you halfway into her lap and draping the covers over your shoulders.

“It’s ok,” she murmured, feeling protective.

“Do you remember what they were about?” Wanda asked, careful to keep her voice neutral. She didn’t want to pry, but seeing you so frightened had unsettled her. “They sounded…scary.”

You dipped your head against Nat’s chest, accepting the comfort she was offering. Her heartbeat was steady, soothing.

You had been in your dad’s house, running down the hall. You could hear the heavy fall of his footsteps thundering up the stairs behind you. He was drunk, furious. You had hidden in the closet, cowering behind cardboard boxes—a favored refuge of yours when you were younger. He had appeared in the doorway, shadowy and terrifying.

And then…Wanda’s voice, soft and anchoring, calling you back to the present moment. Wanda’s hands curling around the back of your neck, her forehead pressed against yours, murmured whispers. You’re safe. We’ve got you.

Your cheeks flamed with a mix of humiliation and desperation. It had felt so good to wake up in her arms, to be held like that, to be watched and cared for. But knowing they’d both seen you in such an unguarded state—so pathetic, so weak—made your stomach roil unpleasantly. You disentangled yourself from Natasha, fighting for some semblance of control.

“No,” you lied, hating the way your voice shook slightly. You cleared your throat, grimacing at the sharp pain when you swallowed. “Can’t remember.”

Wanda glanced at her wife, clearly concerned and thoroughly unconvinced. Before she could press the issue, you were peeling back the covers and crawling toward the edge of the bed.

“Sorry you had to deal with that.” Every instinct in your body was telling you to retreat. “I better get dressed. It’s almost noon. I’m sure you have —“

Natasha realized you were shutting down, running way. So she did the only thing she could think to do, and clapped her hands together. “Who wants pancakes?”

The abrupt question caught you off guard. You blinked at her slowly, foggy brain trying to catch up to the shift in conversation.

“Oh, how silly of me,” she said, slapping her palm against her forehead. “Little wolves don’t eat pancakes, do they? Cinnamon rolls, then? Or maybe…French toast?”

You ducked your head, trying to hide the reluctant smile that was fighting its way onto your face.

“Nooooo,” you moaned, glancing at the ceiling. “You don’t have to make me breakfast.”

Oscar raised his head from the foot of the bed, wagging his tail at the sound of his favorite word. You reached out instantly, scratching his ear. Natasha took advantage of your distraction, snaking a hand out to tickle your ribs playfully.

“But it would be cruel and unusual, sending a little starving wolf out into the world on an empty stomach!”

You laughed, squirming away from her and collapsing onto your side. The mattress bounced and Oscar barked happily, entering the fray and licking your face.

“Mercy!” You pled, laughing so hard that you started coughing. “Have mercy!”

In a matter of seconds you wheezing, struggling to catch your breath. Even that minor exertion tired you out. Wanda intervened.

“Enough, Nat,” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you upright, away from the other woman. “No rough-housing! I swear, you’re like a teenager sometimes.”

“I’m fine,” you said as soon as you could speak, hating the matching looks of concern on their faces. Wanda handed you a glass of water from the bedside table, and you took a few grateful sips.

“You’re not fine,” she said. “But you will be.”

Wanda insisted you take a hot shower while Nat got busy in the kitchen. The redhead clapped her hands together again, waggling her eyebrows at you.

“Waffles for the little wolf!” She howled quietly before padding out of sight.

Wanda watched her disappear with an expression halfway between exasperated and besotted. Then she extended a hand, pulling you gently out of the bed.

“Come on, detka,” she murmured. “The steam will make you feel better.”

She was right. You stepped out of the bathroom about ten minutes later feeling marginally refreshed, the pressure in your head and chest lessened. Wanda watched as you toweled off, laying out a fresh set of clothes. Oscar started barking downstairs and the doorbell rang.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, giving you one last lingering look before she disappeared into the hallway. The heat from her gaze made your skin tingle. It almost looked like she wanted to eat you alive.

Whoa, where did that come from? A furious blush worked its way up your chest and neck. You buried your face in the damp towel with a groan, trying to forget the feeling of her leg pressed between yours, the traitorous way your hips had bucked against her firm thigh.

Once you were dressed, you hung your towel up on the hook in the bathroom and then sank onto the edge of the bed. This was partially out of obedience (Wanda had told you to wait here) and partially out of exhaustion. The shower had wiped you out again.

Downstairs you could hear Wanda speaking faintly, and then an unfamiliar voice—a deep baritone. A few moments later, there were footsteps on the stairs. The sound reminded you of your dream, and you pushed down an anxious shudder as the door to the bedroom swung open.

Wanda reappeared. She smiled gently, happy to find you right where she’d left you. A tall pale man with a dark beard lingered in the doorway. A stethoscope was draped around his shoulders.

“This must be the patient?” His eyes glittered with curiosity. Wanda nodded.

“This is Dr. Strange,” Wanda told you. “He’s a friend of mine and Nat’s, and an excellent physician.”

You raised a weary hand in greeting. The man in the doorway regarded you for a long moment, then closed the distance between you in a few efficient strides.

He knelt, opening a small leather medical bag, and retrieved a thermometer. As he started his exam, Natasha wandered back into the bedroom. She leaned against the far wall, watching the doctor silently.

“Symptoms?”

“I’m fine,” you said, wincing as he placed the thermometer in your ear. “Just feeling a little under the weather.”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “She has a fever, a cough, muscle aches, sore throat, and that’s just the symptoms I’ve been able to observe so far.”

Strange snorted. “That explains why you look like death warmed over.”

Your legs and arms pulsed dully with a persistent ache, and a throbbing pain had started to manifest again at the base of your skull. Still, you shot the man a weak glare.

“Nice bedside manner,” you growled.

“Thanks.” His lips quirked upward, clearly delighted at the barb. “It’s taken me years to perfect.”

The thermometer beeped and he glanced at the readout. “102.6,” he said, frowning. “Quite high.”

He reached toward you, palpating his fingers gently against your throat. You flinched. He noticed. “Does that hurt?”

You glanced at Wanda, hating to see worry shining in her eyes, then Natasha, who gave you an encouraging smile.

“Don’t look at them,” Strange said bluntly. “You need to be honest with me.”

You pressed your lips into a stubborn line, not wanting to cause more problems. But then you relented, nodding once.

He donned the stethoscope and pressed the diaphragm against your chest. “Breathe in,” he instructed. “And out.”

You did as you were told. In the silence, you watched Wanda. You noticed the little crease in the middle of her forehead, the way she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying the soft pink flesh. You gave her a lopsided smile, and even mouthed the words totally fine.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation at your antics, and you realized it was a look eerily similar to the one she’d given Nat earlier. The thought made your heart stutter in your chest.

Finally, Strange rocked back on his heels, giving you an appraising look. “You’re fighting off a pretty nasty viral infection,” he said. “Something’s going around the city right now. Fever, muscle aches, cough, it all tracks. But I’m worried about your chest—there’s a rattle in your lungs, a shortness of breath. Could get worse if you’re not careful.“

You opened your mouth—to disagree, to argue, you weren’t sure—but Strange lifted his hand, silencing you. “I’m not finished.”

Your mouth snapped closed. The doctor quirked an eyebrow, relishing the dramatic pause.

“You’re also,” he added, jabbing an accusatory finger against your chest. “Very dehydrated.”

“Ouch,” you muttered resentfully, rubbing the spot on your sternum.

Wanda crossed her arms, clearly disliking this news. “What can we do?”

Strange sighed as he considered the options. “I can give her an IV,” he said. “Replenish her fluids and her electrolytes.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Wanda was nodding her head. “Do it.”

He bowed sarcastically. “Yes, ma’am.”

Wanda smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, reaching out and fiddling with the hood of your sweater. “Is that alright with you? I just hate seeing you like this.”

You felt that familiar tug in your chest as the other woman stared at you, eyes brimming with an enormous unspoken affection. You couldn’t help but feel unworthy, undeserving of such kindness.

“‘Course,” you said sheepishly.

Strange glanced from Wanda to Natasha and then back to you, an unnerving expression on his face. “How did you say you knew each other?”

“I’m their…dog walker,” you said, feeling a hot flush of embarrassment lick its way up your throat.

Nat watched you carefully, noticing the way you swayed toward Wanda, like a flower seeking the sunshine. Only to freeze up at Strange’s question, relegating yourself to something small and unimportant. The second you started to retreat, to withdraw, she intervened.

“She’s more than that,” Natasha corrected, fixing you with a stern look that dared you to contradict this clarification.

You ducked your head.

“Fascinating,” Strange said, closing his medical bag with a snap. “Let me run out to my car and get my equipment. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he was gone, Wanda joined you on the bed. You leaned against her shoulder instinctively, gazing across the room at Natasha. For a beat, the three of you regarded one another silently. Then…

“Do you really believe that?” The question slipped out before you could stop it. Being ill had worn you down, shredded your normally strong defenses. “I’m more?”

Wanda turned to face you. Her hands covered yours, her fingers drawing random shapes over your palms. You realized she was nervous.

“You’re so much more.”

You felt an impossible swell of hope and longing in your chest. It was almost painful.

“You’re just saying that because we slept together last night.” You meant it as a joke, hoping to cut the tension. But the air seemed to thicken even more. Wanda settled her hand on your thigh.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wanda asked, voice soft. “How we feel about you?”

You drew in a shaky breath, refusing to let yourself believe they could possibly be interested in you like that.

“You feel sorry for me,” you guessed, dreading the confirmation that would shatter the fragile magic of the past 24 hours. You didn’t belong, you never belonged.

Then you felt soft fingers under your chin and you braced yourself for the terrible kindness that would no doubt be painted across Wanda’s pretty face as she let you down easy. But when you looked up, it wasn’t Wanda. It was Nat. She had crossed the room and crouched between your legs, staring at you with something fierce, something furious in her expression.

“How could you think that?” She asked, her voice a low, loving growl. You blinked hard, suddenly fighting back tears.

“We’re from different worlds, Nat,” you shrugged, breath hitching at the raw confession. “I’m not used to…”

You trailed off, gesturing at the air between you. Not used to what, Natasha wondered, half-afraid to hear the answer. Kindness? Love? Comfort? Each possibility broke her heart more than the last.

But Wanda nodded, sensing you were close to articulating something important. She squeezed your hand, encouraging you to keep going.

“But I love being here,” you whispered, terrified at how true the words rang. “When I woke up this morning, I felt so safe, like I was right where I’m supposed to be.”

Natasha traced her thumb over your jawline, hanging on your every word. “What are you so afraid of, little wolf?

Now that you had started to talk, your true feelings came rushing to the surface, spilling out in a rush of honesty and desperate surrender.

“I’m scared of how good I feel when we’re together,” you said. “Scared of wanting too much, getting greedy, and then…having it taken away.“

“You deserve to be greedy,” Wanda sighed, threading her fingers through your hair. “You deserve to feel safe, to be taken care of, to feel like you belong.”

“And you do belong,” Natasha added, gripping your chin firmly between her fingers. “Right here. With us.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at the claim, the possessive touch. Your head was spinning.

“What if you change your mind, realize I’m not worth it?” Your voice was barely a whisper now, eyes still closed like you couldn’t bear the answer. “That I’m too much, too messy, too broken—?”

“Impossible,” Natasha said, cutting you off firmly.

“You’re not broken, milaya,” Wanda breathed, leaning forward and resting her forehead against yours. “Whoever told you that was…sorely mistaken.”

You cast around for another argument, another evasion. But you found it harder and harder to resist the comfort they were offering, the acceptance in their expressions so open and honest. Gradually, the stiffness receded from your shoulders.

“Okay,” you sighed, curling closer to them both. “Okay.”

Natasha smiled, feeling the tension seep out of you. “Good girl,” she breathed, relief flooding her chest.

And in an instant, something shifted. Wanda’s eyes fluttered open, catching yours. All that vulnerability was still pooled around you like gasoline, and those two words were a match, catalyzing the dynamic. You could tell they both sensed it in the way they shifted closer to you, gripped you just a little bit tighter.

You licked your lips, entranced by the feeling of Wanda’s warm breath against your cheek, Nat’s gentle touch on your jaw.

“So good,” Wanda sighed in agreement with her wife, eyes darting down to your mouth. Your breath caught in your throat as those words washed over you again, the praise lighting up something desperate and beautiful in the very core of your being. They both watched, transfixed, as their claim stoked the fire, heating you up from the inside out.

Then, moving slow, giving you plenty of time to pull away, Wanda closed the distance between you, brushing her lips against yours. The kiss was impossibly soft and warm. At first you didn’t move, afraid to shatter the moment. Then you turned your head slightly, giving her better access. She sighed against you.

“Been wanting to do that all day,” she whispered. You could feel the shy curve of her smile where your lips met.

Wanda wanted to lean in even closer, but she paused, fighting to keep her own desires in check, needing to make sure you were ok. Natasha watched, hardly daring to breathe as her wife swayed back just a fraction, searching your face, saying your name softly. You didn’t respond, and her eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Are you—“

You rocked forward, claiming Wanda’s lips again, interrupting whatever question she had been about to ask. The only thing you cared about was this moment, and making sure it never ended. You felt Natasha’s hand drop away from your face, moving to the back of your neck, guiding you, supporting you.

“Our perfect girl,” she said softly, the edges of her voice roughened by desire. “So fucking pretty when you let us take care of you.”

You whined, tearing yourself away from Wanda and gripping Natasha’s shirt. You were desperate to feel them both, to soothe the awful ache in your chest, the emptiness that suddenly seemed like it could only be filled by belonging to them. You pulled her onto the bed. She didn’t resist, pushing you backward, her strong arms bracketing either side of your head.

This kiss was different, messier. Where Wanda was tender and careful, Natasha crashed into you. She licked against your lips, seeking entry into the warm cavern of your mouth. You opened for her immediately, arching up into the hot, wet feeling. Her hand skated up along your ribs, your chest, your neck. You moaned in surprise when she bit you, pain blooming along your lower lip.

“Nat,” Wanda warned, pushing her wife off you like she was a wild animal. She muttered something in Russian. “Be gentle, she doesn’t feel good.”

“Yes, please be careful with my patient,” Dr. Strange said dryly. He had reappeared in the doorway holding an IV and a needle kit. “She requires rest and rehydration, not…whatever this is.”

Natasha blushed, pulling away from you and standing up in one smooth motion. You missed her instantly, craving the warm, rough feel of her hands on your body. She reached out, tangling her fingers in your hair before giving you a wink.

“I’m going to check on the waffles,” she announced, wiping her mouth delicately and then shoving her hands in her pockets.

Wanda helped settle you back in the bed, arranging the pillows and pulling the blanket up over your legs. You leaned against the headboard, sinking down into the soft sheets.

In a few swift motions, Strange had set up the IV drip and inserted the needle in your arm. He was surprisingly gentle. You barely felt a thing. Wanda hovered nearby, watching the entire process hawkishly.

“This should help her rest,” he explained. “And I’ll write her a script, something to bring down the fever.”

“Thanks,” Wanda said. “Stay for breakfast? Natasha’s —“

“Making waffles,” he interrupted drily. “Yes, I heard. Sounds lovely.”

She swatted him on the shoulder and he ducked out of the room, heading downstairs to give Natasha more grief.

“Wanda?” You mumbled blearily. “Gonna fall asleep.”

She smiled. “I’ll be right here.”

“Creepy,” you sighed, eyes drifting shut. “But cute.”

She rolled her eyes, running a hand over your forehead. “Brat.”

“Yours,” you added softly just before drifting off. And you had never meant anything more in your life.

Taglist: @boowhobabe @lizziescutiepie @lizzieslover129 @tvseries-writings @natascharomanoff21 @marvelwomen-simp @loverluzer @tomy5girls @annya05xtreme @unholyhelbig @lesbianexistence @upsidedowndanvers s @eatingouturmomrn @tobeawriter98

#wanda x you #wanda x reader #wandanat #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #daddy natasha #mommy wanda #marvel fanfic #wandanat x reader

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redlinespeedster · 12 hours ago

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pretty please oscar piastri degradation im feral over his post-spain photos

CRAVING THE NEW !! ☆

oscar piastri 𝒙 fem!reader

[summary] Oscar was the perfect boyfriend—sweet, thoughtful, chivalrous to the extreme. You were used to his soft whispers, those breathy I-love-yous even in the middle of moans. But that night, right after he took the win at the Spanish Grand Prix, you looked at him with this different kind of spark in your eyes and dropped a request that knocked the air out of him: you wanted him to degrade you, no holding back. And there was no way he could say no. (1.7k)

[warnings] smut !! rough sex, degrading dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, Oscar is mean. Spanish is my first language, and I usually write all my fics in Spanish first, then translate them myself with a lot of effort. Sorry if anything sounds off or if there are mistakes.

[notes] I’ve been drooling over those pics for like three days. Damn, he looks so freaking good. Wish I were Lily, seriously. 😫

Your whole life, you had always liked the good guys—the ones with sweet words, the ones who brought you flowers on dates and opened the car door or any door wherever you went together. You always thought good guys were simply better. And Oscar proved it every single time.

He blushed every time he talked about you. He loved showing you off, and his words always carried that sweet tone—even when he had you tangled in his sheets. Oscar was talented at many things beyond motorsport, but his greatest gift was knowing exactly how to make you feel desired, cherished… one of a kind.

But over time, your darker desires began to awaken inside you. They were fantasies you’d been suppressing for years, but now they became frequent—impossible to ignore. It wasn’t about wanting someone else or being unsatisfied with the way you and him made love—not at all. There was simply a smoldering hunger within you, a need to explore something new… with him.

At first, you felt afraid. Afraid that Oscar might get offended, that he’d take your request as a criticism or a warning that your sex life wasn’t working. A lot of people don’t even have a mind open enough to understand that wanting to try new things doesn’t mean what came before was bad; sometimes, it’s simply about the curiosity for the unexpected.

You waited all race weekend to tell him officially. You wanted to do it when you were both home, alone, with no one who could interrupt the conversation by knocking on the door.

Oscar was genuinely happy—you could see it on his face, mostly in the way his cheeks lifted when he smiled. You, on the other hand, were anxious, anticipating how things might go, and unfortunately, he noticed.

“Baby… is everything okay? You’ve seemed kinda off since we got off the plane,” he asks, placing a hand on your knee in a gentle, understanding gesture.

Your eyes fill with tears from the anxiety. You didn’t mean to cry, but the idea of telling Oscar what’s going on makes you uncomfortable. You knew you could trust him with anything; what you didn’t know was how he’d react.

“Something’s going on with me. It’s not that I don’t love you or that I don’t like the way we have sex, but…” You stop when you see Oscar looking at you, confused and worried, so you decide to just be direct. “I want you to degrade me.”

The weirdest part? He doesn’t even seem surprised. There’s no trace of disappointment on his face either—none of that dramatic “you want this because you don’t love me anymore” stuff. Nothing like that. On the contrary, he grabs you by the hips and pulls you into that perfect space between his legs. His warm breath brushes against your ear—soft, steady—as his fingers slowly slide through your hair.

“You really want that? How come you never told me?” he asks. You turn your head to look him in the eyes, and there’s something about the way your pupils dilate that sparks an odd tenderness in him.

“It’s just… I didn’t know how you’d take it” you admit. Your body shivers when he lets out a low laugh, dry and almost amused.

There’s a sexual tension in the room that practically scorches you, stealing your breath. You feel his hands rest on your shoulders, then slowly slide down. He traces your collarbone with the tip of his fingers in a way that makes you shiver, and starts unbuttoning your tiny shirt. Your cheeks flush instantly, intimidated by how his gaze stays locked on you.

“Embarrassed, huh?” he asks, but you’re not really sure what to say—you just stay quiet. His hands move over your chest on top of your shirt, and your heart starts racing. “Why though, babe? It’s not like you’ve ever had a dirty mind or anything.”

His thumbs start teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your white shirt. He immediately notices you’re not wearing a bra and smirks. Not a big smile—more like a cocky one, like he’s lowkey amused by how easy it is to get you like this.

“I bet you’re soaked. You always get like this. Acting like a bitch in heat.”

A slight jolt of arousal runs through your body. His voice, deeper than usual, and his words catch you off guard. You’re still not completely used to hearing him talk like that, but you don’t mind… if anything, you want more.

He's not wrong, your pussy is dripping.

He notices the second his hand moves down and his fingers slide over the denim fabric of your shorts. Your nose brushes against his; he’s calm, eyes half-lidded, with an almost taunting stillness. You, on the other hand, are a mess—you can barely breathe.

“You’re not even trying to hide it. I spent the whole damn weekend focused on my race, stressing about losing, and all you could think about was riding me like the filthy little slut you are. Am I wrong, babe?

His hand unbuttoned your pants until they dropped and bunched up around your ankles. He can see the wet stain on your panties—sticky and damp. You’d soaked through the fabric. He presses his fingers gently over it, and as a result, they get wet too. But what really gets to you is the moan that slips out, caused by how sensitive you are.

He doesn’t even bother taking your panties off; he just lazily pushes the fabric aside, leaving you completely exposed. Eager anticipation made your clit throb.

Oscar used to touch you slowly, taking his time to gently slide his fingers through your wet folds and then sweetly rub your clit. But this time, it’s different. He quickly slips two fingers into your hole, curling them into a hook to hit that exact spot inside you. Then, once you’ve gotten used to it, he starts moving them in and out with steady force, pulling deep moans from your throat that fill the room.

“Fuck, Osc!” you moan out loud, and you feel him pull his fingers out just to slap your pussy gently—a move that sends an instant jolt through your body and makes you squirm.

“Shut up, slut.” he orders, and you feel his fingers curl back inside you, pounding your poor hole with a near-brutal rhythm, thrusting in and out without mercy. The way he timed each thrust to hit that perfect spot inside you before pulling back was just unreal.

His hand grips your hips, trying to pull you even closer, making your ass rub against his hardness. You can feel his erection—still clothed—pressing firmly against your skin. His hands move down with urgency to get rid of the fabric in the way, unbuckling his belt without wasting a second.

His damp hands grip your hips tightly before he throws you onto the bed without a second thought, making you bounce against the mattress with a muffled moan. He grabs you by the ankles and drags you toward him, settling between your legs as his body drops over yours, trapping you with no room to escape.

“I can only imagine the agony,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours while his hands grip your bare thighs. Then he lifts them firmly, spreading them and pushing them toward your body until your knees are nearly pressed against your stomach. “You spent the whole week watching me race, dying for me to wreck you. You don’t like it when I talk sweet, do you? When I tell you how good you look or how amazing you feel. What really turns you on is when I treat you like my throwaway toy.”

You feel him drip slowly onto the lower part of your stomach—warm and wet—leaving a sticky sensation clinging to your skin. Then his cock slides gently through your folds, not entering, just teasing; he only wants to watch you lose control.

“Oscar… please.” you sob between moans, clinging tightly to his back like letting go would mean losing your mind. “I can’t take it… I can’t.”

He shifts, kneeling in front of your pussy—completely exposed, utterly wrecked. The tip of his cock slides in slowly until it disappears inside you, filling you up completely. He pauses for a second to let you adjust, and in the next, he’s thrusting hard, the sound of your bodies slapping echoing through every corner of your house.

Oscar moans too. He moans because you’re squeezing him just right—hot, wet, and perfect—driving him insane. His hands dig into your thighs, pushing your legs toward your chest to spread you open wider, so he can bury himself as deep as possible and fuck you without mercy.

“Fuck…” he groans, voice rough as his face twists in pure pleasure. The look on his face—that mix of ecstasy and desperation—sets you off instantly. Your walls tighten around him, like your body’s trying to keep him there till the very end. You’re right on the edge, seconds away from turning the moment into a glorious mess. “You want me to fill you up? I will. I’ll stuff you so full my cum’ll be dripping out of that pathetic pussy for days.”

You can feel how tightly you’re clenching around him, until you finally make him come inside you, milking him for every last drop. Your pussy takes it all in, savoring every bit until you’re left a creamy mess, mixed with your own orgasm that bursts inside you too. The pleasure hits so hard it leaves you dazed, gasping, your body trembling and your legs on the verge of giving out.

He looks at you tenderly, finally letting go of that dominant side once he sees you’re satisfied with what he gave you. He smiles softly and leans in again to kiss your forehead. Your cheeks, inevitably, flush all over again.

“I like this…” he murmurs quietly, his hand gently caressing your cheek. You raise an eyebrow, curious, not really getting what he means. “Fucking you till you can’t breathe and then watching you blush like a virgin. That’s just something I’ll never get tired of, huh baby?”

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x reader

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demie90s · 3 days ago

Note

Hey girlie pop!! I love your uconn x menace reader and was wondering if you could do more?? Like maybe the team sees her being serious for the first time in a game cause a player on the other team disrespected one of her teammates? No pressure if you can't!!

𝐔𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌 X 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

My Little Komedian.

(Get it? My little Kendall. Anyways)

MASTERLIST, MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The team jokes you’re unserious—until you aren’t. When someone targets KK on the court, it unlocks a version of you nobody was ready for.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Drama | Game-day tension | Protective menace | Subtle team bonding

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Swearing, light violence, reader going full court demon time, post-game confrontation

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~

ᴠɪʙᴇ:Joke all you want—touch KK and it’s game over.

It started normal. The score was tight but nothing we couldn’t handle. KK had just hit a step-back and was doing her usual—laughing, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe herself. I caught her mid-smile and tossed her a lazy thumbs up, smirking. She grinned back. We had momentum.

And then outta nowhere—crack.

Body to body. Shoulder to chest. Some tall-ass corn-fed bloxburg-built tree trunk of a player came barreling into her like it was a damn football game. KK flew. That’s not exaggeration. She flew, hit the hardwood, and stayed down.

The crowd gasped. Coaches stood up. The ref blew the whistle late, like he had to be convinced that what we all just saw wasn’t normal. And the girl? The one who did it? She didn’t even look back. Just jogged off, hand up, grinning like she got away with something slick.

My blood ran cold.

I didn’t react right away. Just stared. Watching KK not move. Watching the girl smirk and dap her teammate like she didn’t just try to fold my favorite person on this court.

Then something in me shifted.

I stood up straight—quiet. Calm. Walked toward her. Didn’t rush, didn’t bark, didn’t throw a single arm. I just walked with my shoulders loose and my jaw locked, like I was about to clock in for a job.

And trust—my job was about to be ruin her day.

She caught sight of me just as I passed half court. I swear on everything, she smirked. Smirked.

That’s when I tilted my head slow. You know the look. The “oh you think this is funny?” kind of tilt. I smiled, too. Just a little. Then let it drop, eyes flat.

“You good?” I heard someone yell behind me. Nika, I think. But my focus never broke.

Azzi was the first one to move. She knew that walk. She saw my face. She cut me off at the three-point line, both hands up.

“Chill. She’s okay. She’s fine.”

“She’s not fine,” I said, still looking past her. “She hasn’t stood up yet.”

“Ref called it.”

“I don’t care.”

Then came Aaliyah. Then Aubrey. Then a trainer. I kept walking, and they kept layering on like a damn barricade.

“Back up,” I said once. Didn’t yell. Just stated it.

“Nope,” Aubrey said. “We are not getting ejected today.”

“She touched KK.”

It wasn’t until the sixth person grabbed my arm that I finally stopped. And even then? I was still locked in. Breathing through my nose. Staring that bloxburg bitch in the face like she owed me money. She was laughing a minute ago. Now she wouldn’t even look at me.

Eventually, someone said, “She’s up,” and I turned.

KK was sitting up, holding her wrist. Aaliyah ran over, and I broke out of the human shield to kneel beside her.

She looked at me, lips tight, clearly trying not to cry. Her wrist looked tender. I grabbed the back of her head with one hand, real gentle, like she was made of glass.

“You straight?” I asked.

She nodded.

I didn’t believe her.

“You lying to me?”

“No,” she said, voice shaky. “I’m good.”

I kissed her forehead once. Real quick. Real soft. Then looked back at the other team.

“Okay,” I muttered.

From that point on, the game wasn’t a game. It was a message. Every shot I took hit. Every screen I set knocked someone. Every loose ball? Mine. And when that same player tried to post up later, I full-body boxed her out with enough force that even the ref went wide-eyed.

Then came the timeout. We were up fifteen now. KK was icing her wrist on the bench, still laughing at something Paige said. Me? I was pacing like a soldier.

That girl—Bloxburg—tried to say something to me as I walked past.

She opened her mouth. One word. One smirk.

Didn’t even finish her sentence before I turned back, dropped the ball where I stood, and stepped dead in her face. No crowd noise. No ref whistle. Just me and her and the weight of what she did.

“Man,” I said, voice steady. “Ion give a damn what you on. You touch somebody else on this team and I promise you—you not gon’ play another minute tonight.”

She blinked, jaw twitching. I stepped closer.

“You understand me?” I asked. “Do you understand me? You think I’m playin? Try me. Let’s really find out. Like actually—run it. Let’s see how quick you get your team ejected and yo ass beat in front of everybody. Your coach. Your mama. Your little friend over there with the busted lashes.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. Not even a twitch.

And me? I was dead serious. Because that hit on KK? That didn’t just shake her—it shook something in me. That shit hurt my soul. You’d think it was me who got laid out.

The game was still going. Clock ticking. Refs calling plays. But I wasn’t in the game no more. I was staring her down like this was personal. Because it was.

She blinked again, like she was waiting for someone to step in.

They did.

Geno himself came up behind me and gripped my arm tight.

“That’s enough,” he said, calm but firm.

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“She puts a hand on anyone else, I’m not holding back,” I muttered. Loud enough for her to hear. “Coach or not.”

Geno gave me that look. The please-don’t-make-me-defend-you-at-the-press-conference look. So I let him guide me back. But my eyes? Still locked.

And her?

She didn’t say a damn word after that. Didn’t smile. Didn’t blink wrong. Matter fact, she subbed out not even a minute later.

——————

Post-Game – Locker Room → Press Conference

I didn’t even hit the locker room first. Just made sure KK got there. She walked on her own, but I didn’t let go of her arm until she sat down. Trainers swarmed. Azzi offered her Gatorade. Nika was already cussing under her breath, pacing. Me? I just sat down on the floor in front of KK, leaned against the bench like a damn watchdog.

“She good?” Paige asked.

“She gon’ be good,” I answered. “She got me.”

KK looked up, gave me this soft smile. Real gentle, almost shy. Like she didn’t know she could lean on me like that.

That’s when Geno walked in.

“Y/N,” he said. One word. Like he was tired.

“I’m not apologizing.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Good,” I said. “‘Cause I meant every word.”

He exhaled like he had a headache forming. “Get your postgame clothes on. Press wants you and KK.”

“Oh,” I said, rising slow. “So now they interested.”

⸻

Press Conference – 20 Minutes Later

Cameras flashing. Mics on. Reporters lined up like vultures. KK sat to my right, still quiet. She had her hoodie up and her hand wrapped. Geno sat on the end, already regretting this decision. And me? I leaned back in my chair like I had nothing left to prove.

First question?

“Y/N, can you walk us through what happened after that foul?”

“Which one?” I asked. “There were a few.”

“The one involving KK Arnold.”

I nodded, jaw tight.

“She got hit. Hard,” I said. “Unnecessary. Malicious. And I responded accordingly.”

“Some people might say you overreacted.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table.

“And some people wasn’t on that court.”

Silence.

KK shifted beside me, just enough for her leg to brush mine. I looked at her. She gave a tiny nod like, go ahead, say what you really feel.

“You don’t gotta like how I ride for my team,” I said. “But if you think I’m gon’ sit quiet while someone gets blindsided like that, you got the wrong girl. I don’t play about mine.”

Another reporter jumped in.

“What would you say to the opposing team?”

I laughed. Just once.

“I already said it,” I replied, eyes dead at the camera. “I said it with my game. With my presence. With the scoreboard. That’s all the talking they gon’ get from me.”

Geno rubbed his temples. Last question came from the back.

“KK,” a soft voice said, “how did it feel knowing your teammate stepped in for you like that?”

KK looked at me first. Always looked at me before she spoke.

Then she smiled, just a little. “Felt like family.”

I reached up, real subtle, and fixed the corner of her hood. Kissed her temple once like it was instinct. Then looked right back at the press.

“She is.”

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x-prettyboy-x · 3 days ago

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Clean you up

Established relationship! Erik × reader

Hello again, I felt bad for what I did to you guys in the first one, so i wrote an alternative version💕again, I am not a writer, so forgive me for how bad this is🫶🏻

Pairing: Erik Campbell x reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries and blood, obviously spoilers

No gendered language used:)

851 words

Erik was never the type to show he was in pain, when he'd come home from his shift at the tattoo shop and casually mentioned the fire and the fact he'd been branded and you know.. almost died, talking as if it was nothing, you freaked out. He'd grabbed your face with the most gentle care he could manage- you took note of his shaking hands- and whispered reassurances to you.

"Baby, I'm fine, I kicked deaths ass. Maybe I'm just invincible, huh? And the brand is pretty fuckin sick" He'd laughed, and that laugh is what managed to calm you down.

You'd been pacing back and forth in the living room when everyone came back from the hospital, Stefani and Charlie first, then their mom and Bobby, then Erik. Looking more terrified than you'd ever seen him. His entire body shaking, blood trailing down his nose and mouth and staining the front of his shirt.

Stefani quickly walked over and grabbed your shoulders carefully, knowing you were seconds from a full on mental breakdown.

"Hes okay. We cheated death. We're all safe, we cleared the list. It was a.. beyond stupid idea but Erik managed to kill Bobby and bring him back. He got.. hurt in the process but its nothing deadly, okay? He refused help at the hospital. He just wanted you."

You wanted nothing more than to ask what the hell she meant by he killed Bobby, but seeing yours boyfriend's face, you'd have to wait to be curious.

You were hesitant as you walked over and grabbed Erik's hand, like he was a wounded deer that would get up and run away at any sudden movement. You'd carefully pulled him into his room and set him on the bed, grabbing the first aid kit from his closet- your idea, not his. You'd demanded it after the fire- and moving to sit next to him to address what was wrong.

"You wanna tell me what hurts?" You'd whispered, your voice shaking. You didnt wanna cry, didnt wanna make him anymore distressed.

He didnt reply, just pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. You looked him over and noticed his ears first, the rings missing and the lobes ripped in half, then his nose, then his nipples. You winced under your breath and just silently started to clean the wounds you could see.

"I thought.. I was gonna die. I was gonna die and Bobby would die because of me. It was my idea, I made him eat the stupid fuckin peanut butter cup and took his epi pen. I promised I'd bring him back. He almost died because of me." His words were so quiet they were almost inaudible.

So that's what Stefani meant. It still didnt explain how he ended up hurt, clearly more had happened than he would say. But you won't push, not rightnow.

You cleaned up the wounds the best you could and set the first aid kit aside, sighing shakily as you looked him over. "Kiki, you need to go to the hospital, let them stich you up. It shouldn't be too bad since the wounds are small, but you need to-"

"No hospitals. I don't wanna step foot in another hospital. Not now." He was quick to cut you off, and you fell silent.

He pulled you into his lap before the silence went onto too long and you froze, looking down at him.

"I'll worry about it later.. Just want you. Bobby almost died because of me and I was close to never seeing you again."

You sighed and ran a hand through his hair carefully. Erik took a deep breath and just rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

"Tell me what happened, baby.. please."

You listened carefully as he explained everything, Iris's friend telling them the only way to survive this was to die and come back, or to kill someone and take the years they had left. He told you the plan he'd come up with. He told you about how the mri machine had ripped out his piercings, how he'd been pulled into it, how a nurse had rushed in to turn the machine off just in time. He told you how the only thing he could think about was Bobby suffocating next to him, while he could do nothing about it.

Even now, he was more upset about the fact Bobby was in danger, he couldn't care less about his own pain, about how he almost died. Again.

"This isn't your fault, you did it, right? Bobbys fine.. everyone's fine, thanks to you. You saved everyone left on the list. You kicked deaths ass again.." you'd said the words with a small smile on your face, hesitant as you added, "And at least you got to keep your favorite piercing"

You were trying to lighten the mood a little, hopefully make him feel even just a little better. And it'd worked. You'd felt him let out a small laugh from where he was laying on your chest. And like before, that's all it took to finally calm you.

#emson writes♡#erik campbell x reader #erik campbell #final destination #final destination bloodlines

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revelboo · 17 hours ago

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Hello:3 I hope you're doing okay 🙃😌😖 how's tfp megatron since we knocked him up 🤣🤣🤣🤣

You just know he’s going to be awful about it. 🔞 mass displaced mech 🌶️

Broken Arrow Pt 22

TFP Megatron x Reader

• Snorting awake as you’re dragged back into his heated frame, an arm draping around you as his clawed servos go straight between your thighs and he rocks himself against you. You’re not even really awake, yet, but apparently being sparked makes him not only unbearably annoying, but even hornier than normal. And he was already awful. “Your sparked carrier needs to be fragged,” he growls in your ear, spooning you and it takes everything not to try and elbow him in the face. Reminding yourself that you’ll just hurt yourself and it won’t phase him at all.

• Rolling onto his back and dragging you to sprawl on top of him and manhandling you onto your belly, he hooks a claw in your harness and tugs you down, head lifting to kiss you and laughing when you jerk back. “Well, I guess you shouldn’t have tried to knock me up then,” you snap, pulling against his hold on your harness before giving up with a huff. “You did it to yourself. This isn’t my problem,” you add, gesturing at all of him to make his optics narrow.

• “You should apologize with that mean, little mouth,” he growls, almost sounding actually hurt. “You’re a cruel and terrible spark mate.” Rubbing in his claim that the two of you are tied together for life, but you’re sure that’s a lie to manipulate you into doing what he wants. You can’t be stuck with him literally until death do you part, but thinking about it sends your heart racing, twisting you tight with panic. It has to be a lie. Maybe the sparked thing is, too. Another manipulation to get his way, except you know it’s not. You’d felt it echo through you when he’d fully bonded you and you’d felt when he’d tried to spark you.

• “Why me?” You ask, voice strained and he hesitates, cruel amusement with taunting and aggravating you faltering. “Why would you bond me for life? You hate me. I hate you.” Venting, he sits up and cups your face in his big hands, your frightened rambling faltering when he brushes the clawed end of a servo against your bottom lip. Do you really not understand? After all this time, you still don’t get it?

• Splaying a hand on his chassis as he tips your face up toward him, those red optics staring at you. Refusing to let you look away. “I hate you,” he growls, the words becoming a question. “Hate that I need you, that I can’t recharge without you against me, that I can’t stop reaching for you. Need the scent of you, your taste on my glossa, the feel of you under me when I’m inside you. You’re an addiction,” he snarls, lip curling to show his sharp denta. “And you understand absolutely nothing,” he adds, head dipping, glossa sliding against skin and his harness and you feel when he frees his spike, feel the head brush you. “I marked you as mine, claimed you, sparked and bonded you. Let myself be claimed.” And his mouth crashes against yours, not a kiss so much a domination. Big hands slide down to your hips and you lay your own hands on top of his.

• Lifting you and pulling you down on his spike with a snarl, he encourages you to ride him. To claim him as yours, his harness jingling with the movements. How can you still not understand he loves you? That he gave you all of him, made himself vulnerable for you. That he’d kill for you, destroy everything if anything happened to you. If you were taken or threatened, this world would burn until he got you back. Watching you move against him, using him for pleasure, his optics almost shutter as his servos trace your soft skin. Worshipping you with his body, still unable to say the words. Listening to your moans, the clink of the harness, and the wet sound of his spike pumping inside your slick heat. Loves you so much it hurts.

#transformers x reader #megatron x reader #tfp megatron #valveplug

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pinkyqily · 3 days ago

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BRAIDS AND SHADE Salma Paralluelo x Reader

Summary : you and salma have a beach day while you also help her take out her braids in the sunny shades ⛱

Warning : slight cursing Summary, this is a report from my old account that got deactivate.

Today was on of those days where yours and salma off days macht.

meaning you both could spend the whole day together without one of you having a busy schedule and not being able to make it to any of your plans or having to leave mid-date.

Today would be very different as you both had three days off that ended up matching both your schedule.

Excitement filled both you and salma. Because both already planned what to do together.

a divider date where one person plans the beginning while the other planes the rest. You've already done your part in planning the first half, which consisted of surprising salma with breakfast in bed, which was rare as she always had to be up bright and early for training, making it impossible.

But today, she slept over her alarm, making it easy for you except the part you had to get out of her giant grip without her noticing which happened successfully.

After that, you both got ready for your massage appointment that you booked, knowing well she needed it having complained about random cramps that felt after heavy training or game days.

The next few hours had been filled with shopping and sneaky kisses.

Helping salma look for some pants that she's been wanting to get. and some Fifa games she wanted to get.

So her and vicky could play with it when she comes over, getting sweet treats and some makeup and other products you both needed around your shared apartment.

that would be the your part of date that you planned. now it was salma trun for the other half of the date.

"So where are we going that you got our suitcases packed with three different outfits, with four different bikini placed on our bed?" you asked her ?.

"You just gotta wait til we arrive there".she told you before leaving a kiss on your lips.

grabbing your hand, leading you into the car before placing the location onto GPS so you know where to drive.

Salma was a passenger princess as she didn't know how to drive and hadn't gotten her drivers license. this woman would rather run to her destination than drive, which you found funny and would tease her about it.

You've almost arrived at the place the GPS was leading you into until you where able to see somewhat of a beachy report.

"You did not just book us to one of these beach resort did you". you asked her with a smile on your face

"I may have known that I'll days off would macht and decided to book here I know how the beach is one your favorite places and the offer was too good to miss". she told you

This would be one of salma best qualities that you loved about her when she does stuff for you without you knowing or asking.

Once you both managed to get everything done and head to the beach. salam had asked if you could help her take out her braids while you both chill out for the rest of the day which you didn't mind doing.

You both found a spot under the beautiful beach shades and decided to lay there and that when you started getting rid of her braids one by one which surprisingly didn't take you that long. as you we're used to taking braids.

you'd finally finish taking out her braids and one thing you admire about salma was when her curly where out it made her look like some type of goddess especially with that body of hers.

you loved this woman down bad and would do anything for her.

this day had to be the best day ever enjoy half the day with the love of your life while finishing it off a the beach with a beautiful sunset.

And it couldn't have been done without a small makeout session with the sunset right behind you both.

#woso x reader #woso fic #woso fluff #woso fanfics #woso community #woso #woso oneshot #salma paralluelo x reader #salma paralluelo imagines #barca femini x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #salma paralluelo

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 2 days ago

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Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 8

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: He's baaaaack. And it's about to get dramatic.

warnings: AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Pregnancy. Angst and arguing. Mention of canon typical blood and injury. Description of IV and stitches.

w/c: 4,425

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks*

The cry of your voice cut through the night like a dagger into Matt’s heart. He didn’t know what was waiting for him at home, but he could hear the agony in your screams from blocks away. All the worst case scenarios were running through his head and clouding his thoughts as he tried to focus on his surroundings to make it to you as quickly as he could. He tripped on a chimney as he leapt from one roof to another, recovering with a roll and not missing a beat to keep pushing onward. Despite the sweat now pouring down his face, his blood felt like ice, freezing him in place and slowing him to a near halt. At least that’s what it felt like as the seconds ticked on while he tried to get home to you. He may as well have been running through molasses. Not caring at how his legs ached while they carried him, he pressed on, trying with all his might to pick up speed until he finally made it home.

His heart rate was high from how quickly he was moving, but it nearly dropped all the way to zero as the smell of blood invaded his nose when he finally stepped onto the balcony of the apartment you shared. He didn’t want to think of the worst case scenario, couldn’t even bring himself to imagine the word. Wrenching open the door, he picked up on three heart beats through your sniffles and pleas; yours, the baby��s, and a third.

It was the least steady, erratically pulsing in an unclear rhythm.

Dying.

He tasted your tears in the air, salty and mixing with the stench of blood as he rushed to be by your side.

“Matt! Please! I’m losing him, please!” you begged

Matt honed in on the figure in your arms, listening to inaudible grunts as the life in it was slipping away. He could practically hear the blood pouring like a waterfall out of the strangers’ neck. The familiar scent of gunpowder amongst the sweat and the blood stuck to the man’s skin. Heavy boots weightless against the floor as he struggled to breathe. At least three guns on his person.

Frank.

“Keep putting pressure on the wound.” Matt commanded as he leapt back to his feet and sprinted to the bathroom, emerging a moment later with the first aid kit in his hands

It had only been minutes between the time Frank collapsed and Matt arrived. But as you watched Frank grow paler and colder in your arms, it felt like an eternity. Matt tossed his gloves aside as he knelt down beside you and threaded the needle.

“Hold him steady.”

Matt began suturing the wound, hands slipping with each stitch from the wetness of the blood. Weightless in your embrace, Frank’s head rested against your stomach. You prayed that he could hear the baby the way Matt could in this moment. Maybe if he could sense the life inside you that he might have created, it would give his soul the push he needed to stay earthside. You stroked at Frank’s hair while Matt worked, tears spilling onto his eyes as he laid nearly motionless in your arms. Would this be enough to save him?

“Okay. The wound is closed. But he’s lost a lot of blood, we need to get him to—” Matt paused, head cocking at a new sound. “Someone’s here.”

Not even a second later, there was a gentle knock on the door. Your body froze in place as you watched Matt take in everything he could about whoever on the other side of the door. Was Frank followed? Was Matt? Were you about to be caught in the middle of a shootout in your own home?

“Matt? My name’s Curtis. I’m a friend of Frank’s.”

You exhaled in relief, choking out another sob. Frank had told you about Curtis a few times and you knew he was a person to trust. Matt ripped off his Daredevil helmet and bolted towards the door.

The man followed Matt into the apartment, immediately going into field medic mode when he saw you and Frank on the floor. He was large in stature but had a kindness in his eyes and a tranquility to his voice, even in such a desperate situation.

“What happened?” Curtis asked, using his flashlight to open Frank’s eyelids and asses his vitals

“He um…” you spoke softly through sniffles “He just showed up. His neck was bleeding and…”

“I closed the wound, but he’s lost a lot of blood.” Matt chimed in

“Did a damn good job too. Those are some clean stitches.” Curtis commented, feeling Frank’s pulse. “I brought a few bags of blood and some IVs. Help me get him on the couch.”

Matt and Curtis crouched down and picked up Frank’s heavy, unconscious form. One of the few things Frank had told you about Curtis was his prosthetic leg and how he got it. You wondered if lifting a solid log like Frank was difficult for him. As they got him up and onto the couch, you sat back on your haunches. You didn’t want to let him go, wanting to hold him in your arms; feel him breathing against you just to know he was still alive. You numbly watched as Curtis rummaged through his bag and put on latex gloves.

“How did you know where to find him?” Matt asked.

“He called me. Said he was hurt bad and that he was heading here cause it was the closest place he could think of. Asked me to meet him.”

Curtis worked fast, getting a line into Frank’s arm and getting a bag of blood hooked to him. The former medic seemed completely unfazed that Matt was standing beside him, half-dressed in his Daredevil suit. You wondered if Curtis already knew who was behind the red mask, or just spent enough time around Frank that the identity of a notable vigilante in the city was unremarkable to him. Did Curtis know who you were though? Did Frank even tell him about you?

“With Frank you never know what you’re gonna find but I wasn’t expecting it to be this bad.” He continued while he worked

He improvised using the table lamp as a stand, hooking the bag onto the finial and checking that it was flowing correctly. You realized it was still dark in the apartment, only the moon still streaming in. Shit, you should have turned a light on so Curtis could work better, not knowing what else to do to help.

Color began to spread across Frank’s face almost immediately. As the seconds ticked on, he looked more and more alive and you finally allowed yourself to breathe fully. Since his arrival, it felt as though you were a fish that had been caught on land and now were finally tossed back in the sea as water filled your gills with relief. With Frank’s main injury taken care of, Curtis pulled a few antiseptic wipes out and began to clean the blood that was drying on Frank’s neck, also checking if there were any other injuries he needed to address. You still sat on the floor across the room, unable to move as you watched Curtis work. Matt paced behind the sofa, ready to lend a hand if needed. You could tell he was listening closely, making sure Frank was still breathing. Once Curtis had cleaned enough of the wound, he lifted each of Frank’s limbs to check him over once more and gave his heart a listen.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to bring some antibiotics.” Curtis said, cleaning up his supplies and grabbing his bag.

“Will he be okay?” you asked

“Probably. If he makes it to sunrise and doesn’t sprout an infection, we should be in the clear.”

“Thank you, Curtis.” Matt said, walking him to the door.

You stared at Frank. If he didn’t have all the scrapes and bruises across his face and arms, he’d look just like he was sleeping. After how things ended between the two of you, it was unbelievable that he was here in front of you and alive (mostly.) You worried if you dared to look away for even a moment, he might just evaporate into thin air and disappear from your life again.

“You should get some sleep.” Matt spoke almost robotically in your direction.

He was standing between you and the door where he just showed Curtis out, clearly keeping a distance. All the emotions you carried from your fight earlier came flooding back in; your anger at Matt for not considering your feelings, the hurt that he’d put himself in danger, the fear that he wouldn’t return to you. Based on the way his eyes shifted back and forth rapidly, you knew he was assessing you now. He could probably tell how your muscles ached and your eyes burned from exhaustion. He could probably tell your heartburn was flaring up with a vengeance from all the stress of the evening and that your ankles were swollen from all the pacing. He could probably tell the bed had not been slept in since he left.

“I’m not tired.” you responded

“That’s not true.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

“You should at least try.”

“Please, Matt. I need to stay up. Just until Curtis comes back and we know he’s okay.”

“Fine.” Matt replied curtly. He cocked his head to give you and the baby another listen, then headed towards the bedroom.

You stayed in your spot on the floor, just watching Frank’s chest rise and fall. Again and again and again.

“Can I ask you something?”

Matt’s voice cut through your trance, startling you with a jolt. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been sitting there staring at Frank, but enough time had passed that Matt was freshly showered and clad in sweatpants and a T-shirt. In all the overwhelm of Frank’s arrival, you hadn’t really looked at Matt since he’d gotten home. Thankfully, he had no signs of injury clearly visible to you. The only thing amiss was the pained look on his face.

“Yeah. What?”

“Did you mean it earlier? When you said you loved me?”

You sighed deeply, hurt by his question. You were still so angry with him. With the way he still stayed several feet away from you, leaning on the bedroom door frame with an unreadable expression, it was if he was mad at you for Frank’s unexpected return. Like you somehow magically willed him to come back out of spite for the fight you and Matt had earlier. You’d received no affection from him since Curtis left and Frank was deemed stable; no greeting kiss, no apology for how he spoke to you earlier, no hug or gesture to comfort you during this stressing ordeal. He was behaving more as if he was having a discussion with an opposing counsel and not his lover.

“Matt, you know I meant it. My heartbeat didn’t waiver, I know it didn’t.” you spoke with a hushed tone, careful not to disturb Frank. Unsure if he was still passed out or just sleeping, but he needed rest if he was going to heal.

“Yeah, I know. But I wanted to make sure that hasn’t changed.”

Rubbing at your bump, you shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to cry again. Sure, you were still angry about your fight earlier, but not enough to possibly not love him anymore in just a few hours.

“Why would it have changed between now and then?”

Matt nodded towards Frank on the sofa.

You scoffed.

“How could you even think this changes how I feel?”

Matt stepped towards where you still sat on the floor, crouching down to be at face level with you. His voice vibrated with irritation through gritted teeth as he tried to also keep his volume down.

“It changes everything.”

“Not how I feel about you, Matt. I love you and I mean it. No matter what happens with Frank.”

That was all you could be certain of at this point and you hoped it was enough reassurance for Matt.

“And what if he wants to be in the baby’s life too? What do we do then?” he asked

“I don’t know. He needs to make it through the night first. When he wakes up and I have the chance to tell him and then we go from there.”

Admittedly, Frank being back put a serious complication in everything moving forward. Or maybe it didn’t matter at all because he could just up and disappear again and leave you and Matt right back to before. Your head began to throb. There were too many things to think about, each swirling in your brain like a hurricane meeting a tornado, leaving no clear thoughts just chaos in it’s wake.

“What if he wants you back?” Matt questioned

“We were never really together so I don’t know how he could want me ‘back’.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m with you now, Matt.”

“Still didn’t answer my question.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” you scoffed

“I don’t know.”

Matt’s clipped tone let you know his patience was waning. There was something he was trying to get from you; whether it was reassurance or he was just egging on another fight, you weren’t sure. But you knew you could out stubborn him. Besides, to have the audacity to be miffed like he was when you were the one who should be agitated. And you certainly were. Not just from the argument earlier, but at how cold and distant he was right now. The fucking nerve to treat you like he was a detective interrogating a suspect when you’d done nothing wrong. His voice got tighter and tighter as he spoke, jaw ticking with rage as his tone dropped lower.

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, bullshit.” he spat back

“I did.” you swallowed thickly “Before all this. Before he left. Before the baby.”

Once again, you placed a protective hand on your stomach. Your tail bone was starting to ache from sitting on the floor for so long and if you weren’t so stressed, you probably could have laid down right there and slept for hours on the uncomfortable ground.

“But you know Frank, he couldn’t… didn’t want to…” you trailed off “Anyway, you stepped up and showed me so much gentleness that I’m still not sure I deserve and I fell in love with you.”

“Do you still love him though?”

“I’m not sure. Do you ever stop loving someone once you love them? But I know I’ve moved on. And I know you’ve made me happy. And I know I love you, Matt.”

Something about that seemed to finally quell Matt’s doubts even if just a little. He reached out, placing his hand softly over yours, taking in the tiny heartbeat coming through. A tear ran down your face at finally feeling Matt’s touch, a small comfort in the panic of the last few hours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments. Matt’s head tilted a fragment of a degree from time to time, listening to your stomach and taking in the sounds of you and the baby. Just as you finally felt at peace for the first time since this afternoon, Matt spoke.

“He’s not staying.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Matt.” you balked, shoving his hand away from where it rested “He almost died tonight. He still might. I’m not going to let you just toss him out because he wasn’t there for me like you were for a baby he knows nothing about.”

“Fine. He can stay until he’s better.”

The sun was rising, muddy blue dusk illuminating the apartment.

The exhaustion of the last few hours finally caught up to you, Matt finally convincing you to go to bed and at least lay down. You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. Matt tried to remain focused on Frank, listening to his heartbeat become steadier as the night wore into morning. But he couldn’t help but tune into you and the baby as well.

The smell of Frank’s blood lingered in crusted specks under your fingernails while you slumbered. Matt’s Columbia sweatshirt warmed your body amidst the chill still in the air. He listened as your skin glided smoothly against the silk sheets as you shifted to lay on your other side.

Attempting to get himself something to keep awake, Matt fiddled with the coffee maker in the kitchen. The city below was beginning to come to life; cars whizzing past as early commuters began to head downtown, morning joggers’ feet thumping rhythmically along the west side highway, bodegas lifting their grates to begin welcoming business for the day.

The noise of it all faded away in an instant as Matt heard the figure on the couch shift and grunt.

Frank was awake.

Thoughts wisped by in Frank’s brain as the world started to come into his focus. He scrunched his eyes shut as he tried to figure it all out. His whole body ached like the times he had to run the obstacle course at bootcamp. His mouth felt dry as he tried to swallow, burning pain traveling all the way down his esophagus.

The only thing he could remember was you. Coming to him in a vision as he sat on death’s doorstep. He wasn’t sure how he got there, he just knew that’s where he had been. And there you were to greet him. One final vision to seal off his time in the land of the living. The love he lost second standing in a bright doorway to send him off. He knew on the other side of that door would be the first one he lost, a perfect bookend to remind him of all the happiness he was never meant to have while he lived.

But no, he never made it to you. Never got the chance to kiss you goodbye and cross the frame to Maria. Instead he was here now, scratchy blanket coarse against his skin as he tried to shift where he lay. He was somewhere? A couch? But where… oh, right. Matt.

“Red?” he called out in barely as a whisper, raspy and faint.

“Yeah?” Matt replied, carrying two coffee mugs in his hand as he made his way across the room to Frank.

“What happened?”

“You showed up at my apartment last night. Bleeding out.”

Matt sat the mugs down on the coffee table, taking a seat in the chair opposite. He crossed his arms, expression stoic behind his red glasses.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your friend Curtis came too and he says you might actually live so, lucky you.”

Frank rubbed at his eyes as he attempted to orient himself. Right, Curtis. He sort of remembered that too. As he tried to sit up, a wave of vertigo rushed over him, making him feel like was on the shittiest ride at the carnival that Lisa used to love going on. She always tortured him and Bill, making them ride it over and over until they were ready to loose their lunches. Resigning to the awful sensation, Frank gingerly laid his body back down. He blinked a few more times to shake away the nausea and took in a hearty inhale.

Your name unmistakably slipped from his lips in the form of a question.

“She’s sleeping. Finally got her to calm down enough to rest.”

So you had been real.

“What’s she doin’ here?”

Matt’s grip on the arm of the chair tightened as he heard the way Frank’s heart sped up when he confirmed you were just in the other room. He was trying to remain calm with Frank for your sake, but he’d never been good at keeping a level head when the two of them were together even before he met you.

“She lives here. With me.” he replied curtly

Despite how dizzy and weak he felt, Frank sat bolt upright at Matt’s statement, glancing around with confusion just to confirm he was indeed where he thought he was; in Matt Murdock’s apartment. The blood rushing away from his brain made his head pound and his vision go white for a moment, but he pushed the discomfort aside. From what Frank could see without twisting his body (which he knew would hurt like a bitch if he tried), Red wasn’t lying. Sure, the place felt mostly like something a boring fuckin’ lawyer would live in; modern art that looked like a Kindergardener drew it on the walls and furniture that was probably designed by Warhol and Frank Lloyd Wright’s love child.

But he also could immediately see the touches of you. There was an antique desk under the window that he knew used to be in your place. On top of it was a frame with a photo of the Eiffel tower. You told him you wanted to visit Paris someday. Draped over the chair was an afghan, purple and blue yarn woven in a zigzag pattern. You once mentioned it was made for you by your great aunt.

Shit, you lived with Murdock now. But how?

“What do you mean?” Frank asked, confused still

“Someone had to take care of her after you left.”

Matt couldn’t help the malice in his tone. Recalling the nights he spent wiping away your tears and holding you in his arms when Frank disappeared, he grew angrier and angrier with every passing second that Frank had stumbled back into your lives. Matt was there for every night you spent worrying, every tear you shed, every bout of morning sickness and late night craving. All of it. And Frank wasn’t.

“She tell you about me?”

“Yeah. She did.”

Frank let out a sigh through his nostrils, shaking his head. Matt couldn’t possibly know how your face had haunted him every damn minute since he left. The evenings spent staring at his phone, guilt at how he’d ended it eating him alive while contemplating dialing your number only to turn to a bottle of pills and a glass of whiskey to numb the urges. Not a night went by that he didn’t dream of your face; the one you made as you laid against his chest in the afterglow of love making, all flushed and ethereal with pleasure. And how all those dreams turned to nightmares the moment he pictured what you looked like after he left. He imagined images of you alone in bed after he’d broken your heart, crying out for him and missing him like an actress in one of those stupid made for TV Christmas movies you liked to make fun of. All the regret he still felt at having to hurt you like that. How desperately he wanted to reach out, to hold you again. But he knew it was best if he stayed away. So he did.

“So what you been up to since, huh buddy? Hiding out? Plotting your next kill?” Matt asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice

“I ain’t hidin’ from shit.”

“You’re hiding from her.” Matt pointed at the closed bedroom door. “Broke her heart so you could go out and shed all that blood guilt free, huh?”

“She’s a big girl. She’ll get over it.”

“Yeah? That how you go through life, Frank? Pushing anybody who bothers to care away just so you can be the world’s loneliest little soldier?”

“Better than all the pussy-ass shit you do, Red.”

“You mean actually help people? Be of service to others?”

“That right? Are you of service, Red? You serve? You think you’re some kinda hero, just cause you go running around in your pajamas? You’re just a goddamned knight in shining armor, coming home after playing make believe to save her like you save the city. Like she’s not a goddamn adult who can handle herself.”

Matt pushed himself off the chair and stalked over to the couch, bending down to get his face right in Frank’s. He kept his tone level, wanting to make sure it was known just how angry he was without risking waking you from the noise. Frank didn’t flinch as Matt invaded his personal space, nostrils flaring.

“I wouldn’t have had to do that if you had stayed, Frank. If you could get your shit together and not run in the other direction the minute a good thing walks into your life.”

“You wait until her bed was cold at least or you come in the second I left?”

Matt’s hand flew out before he even had time to think, connecting with Frank’s face with a loud smack. Frank flinched, eyes going wide in surprise at the outburst. Matt staggered backwards, pacing in a circle and running a hand through his hair in frustration. Pain seared through Frank’s head as he realized just how bad of shape he was in. A backhand like that normally wouldn’t have phased him, but with the fresh injuries plaguing his body, he struggled to hide the pain behind his stoic face. He could have found the strength to fight back, but didn’t want to. Letting Matt have his tantrum, he watched as he collected himself.

“Goddamn it. Goddamn you.” Matt bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his composure. “I’m sorry, I apologize.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“She wouldn’t want me to…” Matt trailed off “You really think that’s all it is between me and her? Just sex? Was that all she was to you?”

“Don’t you dare goddamn say that about her.”

“ She’s so much more to me, Frank. And I’m happy to have cleaned up your mess if it means I get to have her in my life.”

“Yeah that right? You do it to prove a point? Take my woman to get back at me cause you don’t like how I operate?”

His woman. His woman?! As if you ever belonged to Frank.

“I did it because she’s pregnant.” Matt spat, finally reaching his breaking point.

If he couldn’t use his fists to hurt Frank right now, he figured he’d instead drop a court-worthy bombshell right in his lap.

“And the baby has as good a chance being yours as it is mine.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts@laaadygisbooornex3@ninacotte@uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705@endofthelinegang@buckyssugarchick@hellskitchenswhore@pixviee@themikkapika@bisexualbith@labellapeaky@theoraekenslover @sexyvixen7 @tanyaherondale @marysucks-blog @0callme-mimi@aesthetic0cherryblossom @lokifae42 @plutosbearr @kneelforloki

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itoshislave · 3 days ago

Note

hi babe! i’m so new to your account and we repost sooo many of the same fics and i like your taste xoxo

i was wondering if maybe you could write a fic abt tsukishima (haikyuu). an x reader that’s post high school like summer before college. friends-lovers pls pls pls pls. they go to a party after the last day of school and reader has always been shy and never found the right time to say something to kei but gets a little tipsy and gets some confidence to confess. and like since they’d always been friends he thinks she’s joking but it gets nsfw when he realizes she’s serious. if it’s not too much? 🙏🏼😚

nonnie, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭it's been so long since I've been around here. My God, I'm so embarrassed to answer your ask after all this time, but I hope you like it♡♡♡

⊹₊ ˚‧₊୨𝘋𝘙𝘜𝘕𝘒 𝘖𝘕 𝘠𝘖𝘜, 𝘚𝘖𝘉𝘌𝘙 𝘐𝘕 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌୧₊‧ ˚ ₊⊹ — Tsukishima Kei

۶ৎ Amidst the golden lights, the overly sweet drinks, and the dangerous smiles, you realize that you’ve spent too long running away from your feelings for him. And Tsukishima—with his bored expression and eyes that see too much—may have been waiting for this moment all along. On a night when everything pulsates—the floor, the bodies, the truths—you finally stop pretending that it’s just a game. And you start to discover what’s really hiding behind it.

cw: explicit sex, unprotected sex (consensual, with emotional context), strong sexual language, use of alcoholic beverages, spanking, dirty talk and light domination, sex in a public place (bathroom at a party), adult characters. English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are a lot of spelling mistakes. Enjoy!🤗

The night was alive in a strange way. The beats of the music passed through the house, vibrating in the floor, in the windows and the ribs. Laughter came from every corner, bodies huddled on couches, in the hallways, even in the backyard lit by strings of yellow lights. And there he was — leaning against the wall, with a glass of soda in his hand, watching everything with that bored look that you knew was just a facade.

Tsukishima had always been there. Ever since freshman year. Too tall, too sarcastic, always with a ready comeback. And you? Always trying to keep up, stumbling over your words, blushing more than you'd like to admit every time he stared for too long.

The conversations came and went. Someone pushed a glass of something too sweet for you, and you accepted it. Then another. A third warmed your chest, and suddenly everything seemed easier to say.

You spent the whole night circling around him. It was always like that. People thought it was cute —“look at them, always together”—but no one knew that there was a weight on your shoulders every time he touched you by chance. That you had words stuck in your throat since first grade.

“What a dangerous combination. Are you lost?” He asked as you approached, his tone drawn out, almost lazy. A small smile curved his mouth. “Or did you just stumble into another conversation with me?” He said, raising an eyebrow, the mischievous smile slowly forming, as if he found you amusing.

You huffed, crossing your arms. He looked at you appraisingly, as if he were measuring the distance between your courage and your shame.

“You sound like I do this all the time.”

He took a sip from his glass and looked over the rim.

“You do.”

“You are insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Heat rose to your face. Again. Of course.

That was the game. He liked to see you stumble. To keep you on the edge between “Get out of my way” and “I won’t bite if you’re so desperate to kiss me.” You thought it was just a tease. Until you realized he only did that to you. That sent butterflies into your stomach.

“You suck,” you muttered, taking the glass from his hand. You took a sip, tasting the sweet, cold drink. “I should stop talking to you.”

“But you won’t.”

"Why?"

He shrugged, approaching with that slowness that made your heart race.

“Because you love it… And I have so much fun watching you try to hide how much you like me.”

You froze. The words stuck in your throat and the silence between you seemed to scream. He didn't look away. He just waited. Enjoying the chaos he caused in you.

But this time, you were different.

Maybe it was the heat. Or the drink. Or the certainty that if you didn't say anything, you would spend the next few years hating yourself.

You took a deep breath.

“What if I don’t want to hide it anymore?”

Tsukishima arched an eyebrow, that smug smile making his stomach churn.

“Oh, sure... You must be so in love with me, right?”

The heat rose again, but you didn't back down.

“What if I am?”

He was silent for a moment. It was not a silence of superiority, but of surprise. His eyes blinked rapidly, his mouth opened and closed, and he looked away, clearly embarrassed.

“Don’t joke about that, idiot.”

“I'm not joking.”

The silence seemed thicker now. Tsukishima looked you up and down, as if searching for some trace of playfulness on your face. He didn't find any.

His smile faded. And something else appeared in his eyes. Something warm. Something dangerous.

“Damn,” he muttered. “You’re serious.”

You just bit your lip and shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

The change in him was subtle, but real. The tension in his jaw. The eyes fixed on hers, suddenly darker.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?”

“I have. For a long time now.”

He shook his head slowly, chuckling softly. Tsukishima curled his lower lip into an almost predatory smile, as if he was finally starting to really enjoy himself. He leaned his face toward you, so close that the heat of his breath touched your skin. His voice was low, husky, made just for you to hear:

“And now that you confessed... what are you going to do with it?”

Your heart was beating too loudly. Loud enough for him to hear.

You swallowed hard, but tried to maintain your composure.

“I don’t know yet. Are you going to give me options?”

He smirked, satisfied—the kind of smile that made your stomach sink and your knees threaten to buckle.

“Ah, yes…” He said, his voice almost lazy, but filled with restrained malice. “I have many in mind. But I don’t know if you can handle it.”

His gaze moved down over you slowly, as if he were analyzing you, testing you. No rush. The touch of his fingers returned, now lightly brushing your waist, as if he were already teasing you with that alone.

“I can be quite… creative.” He continued, with an air of knowing exactly what effect he was having. “But only if you promise to take whatever I give you.”

You laughed, a little nervous, a little defiant.

“Do you really think I’m the running type?”

He took a step closer, closing the space between you until there was nothing left. His nose was almost touching yours, and his gaze was direct, fixed on your eyes with an intensity that almost hurt.

“No. I think you’re the type to stay… until the end.” he said, his voice low, husky, full of promise.

The silence between you was broken only by the muffled sound of party music in the distance. The rest of the world seemed suspended. Tsukishima looked at you as if he was finally seeing everything—as if every provocative thought he had ever had about you was now free, unbridled, unfettered.

Then he came closer.

The kiss wasn’t immediate. It was a slow brush of mouths, as if testing. As if asking if you were sure you really wanted this. And your answer came when you pulled his shirt with your fingers, wordlessly. His mouth found yours more firmly now, hot, full of intention. It was restrained desire, mixed with that silent provocation of someone who knew the effect it caused.

Tsukishima pressed you lightly against the wall, in a darker corner of the house, away from the hubbub of the party. His hand slowly moved up your back, firm, until it reached the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, controlling the rhythm of the kiss — sometimes slow, sometimes too deep to be just a kiss.

His fingers slid down your waist again, this time under your shirt, touching your skin. Cold and electrifying. He murmured against your mouth, between one kiss and another:

“You're shaking...” He smiled. “What’s wrong? Nervous, are you?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled softly and let his lips trail down to your neck, slowly, testing your limits, teasing your with every subtle bite, every sigh he drew. His hand moved up your belly, warm and determined, until it reached your breasts over the fabric, squeezing lightly, exploring. He was in no hurry. He wanted to feel your every reaction.

When you moaned softly, he stopped just to look into your eyes, his face so close that you could feel his warm breath mixing with yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

The answer died in your throat when he kissed you again, this time with more hunger, more urgency. Your bodies fit together naturally, as if they had been silently rehearsing this for months.

The muffled laughter of someone in the next room reminded you of where you were — and the involuntary startle that ran through your body didn't go unnoticed by him. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his fingers still tangled in the hem of your shirt, his chest pressed against yours.

“Do you remember that the house is full, is that it?”

You looked around, as if you only now realized how wide open everything was. He smiled, with that subtle malice he learned to use to unsettle you.

“Then let’s find a place where you can moan freely,” he whispered against your mouth.

Tsukishima intertwined his fingers with yours and, without waiting for an answer, calmly pulled you down the hallway, walking confidently between the rooms. You passed by a few groups too distracted by the music and their own conversations. No one noticed. He led you to the house's guest bathroom, locking the door behind you as soon as you entered.

The space was small, with dim yellow lighting, the muffled sound of the party vibrating through the walls. As soon as the latch clicked, he turned to you with that hungry look in his eyes—and within seconds, his mouth was back on yours.

This time there was no hesitation.

His hands went straight to the hem of your blouse, lifting it up and taking it off with restrained haste. His lips slid from your mouth to your neck, down to your collarbone, while his fingers unbuttoned your shorts. He backed you up against the sink, his hands firmly on your waist.

“Look at you here, all surrendered,” he murmured, his voice low, warm against your skin. “At a party full of people, and yet so quiet when I touch you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but all that came out was a moan as his fingers slipped inside your panties. A sure touch—his firm fingers finding the warm wetness of your needy pussy. He smiled against your skin.

“What do we have here… You’re so easy, aren’t you? Or is that because it's me?”

Tsukishima watched you with half-closed eyes, his fingers moving skillfully and rhythmically. One of them slid inside, slowly, and then another. Moving them slowly in scissor movements to get used to your walls. The muffled moans against his shoulder made your body instinctively arch, seeking more. And he took advantage. With his free hand, he pulled one of your legs up, opening more space between you, fitting himself there.

“I knew you would react like this…” he whispered. “So beautiful, all mine.”

You reached for the hem of his shirt and began to pull urgently, and he helped you pull it off, revealing his warm skin, his tense muscles. His hips pressed against yours, his hard cock through his pants rubbing against your pussy—and it was almost enough to make you beg.

He kissed you again, now with his entire body pressed against yours, his fingers still teasing you as he began to undo his own clothes with his other hand. The kiss turned into a bite, the touch turned into a need.

And finally, with his gaze locked on hers, he asked softly, almost in a hoarse whisper:

“Do you still want the options, or can I show you how much I really want you?”

Heat covered your body like a blanket. Your legs trembled in excitement at how close he was. Looking down, you could see his erect cock, thick, hot and heavy, the tip swollen in a fiery shade of pink that left your insides begging to have him inside you as soon as possible.

You don’t know what came over you, but your hand seemed to have a life of its own as you dragged your short nails down the back of his neck, creating a sinful path of welts that met the happy trail of blond pubic hair below his belly button. Boldly dragging your curious index finger lower, until the weeping tip smeared in pre-cum was within your power.

Wrapping your hand around the glans, you used your thumb to catch a thick drop of pre-cum that was slowly dripping from the slit. Moving the foreskin up and down, you watched in almost awe as his cock grew wetter and wetter, making low popping noises as you moved your hand.

“Kei…” It comes out breathlessly, almost like a plea.

“Fuck, don’t do this to me…” You suddenly lifted your face, stopping your movements. Tsukishima had his forehead resting on your shoulder, breathing heavily and starting to thrust his hips against your hand as he began to miss the stimulation.

“Do what?” You ask hesitantly. Did you did something wrong?

He slowly raised his face, his eyes half closed and his cheeks slightly flushed—which was rare, and absolutely beautiful.

“Saying my name like that…” He murmured, as if admitting it cost him something. “Like you’re begging me to fuck you. I don’t… I don’t know what I’ll do to you if you keep going.”

The tension between you grew thick, electric. You could feel the weight of his confession hanging between you, and the way he was looking at you now—as if he didn’t know whether to kiss you or devour you—ignited something hot in the very center of your body.

Without saying anything, you wrapped your arms around his neck and whispered very close:

“I want it all. Do whatever you want to me.”

That was all he needed.

Tsukishima ripped his glasses off his face and threw them carelessly onto the sink counter, grabbing your thigh with one hand and lifting your leg again, fitting himself more firmly between them. His other hand ran quickly between the two of you, grabbing his own hard, heavy sex, which rubbed against you, slippery with excitement. He rubbed the tip between your wet lips, his teeth clamped on his lower lip as he watched you with unbearable attention.

“Tell me that you want it,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, broken, urgent.

“I want it, Kei,” you said without hesitation, your eyes locked on his. “I want it so bad…”

He groaned softly, almost as if he had lost an internal battle, and thrust his hips in one movement, entering you slowly, practically whimpering as the tip was crushed by the tight, gummy rings of your pussy. Practically sucking him deeper inside until he reached the bottom.

You gasped loudly, gripping his shoulders, your back pressed against the cold bathroom mirror. He paused for a second in there, completely encased, as if he wanted to memorize the sensation. The heat. The tightness. You.

“Fuck…” he whispered against your neck. “feels s'good inside you baby... Oh fuck”

The rhythm started steady, controlled—but it wouldn’t last long. The thrusts came precisely, each one deeper than the last, making your body slam against the mirror in sync with his. Every time you said his name, every time you moaned loudly, he lost a little more of his composure.

His hands explored your skin as if they wanted to map every inch, and his mouth didn't stop — kisses, bites, heavy breathing. Tsukishima was out of his mind, and you loved seeing him like that. So far from the cold and calculated pose.

“Oh God… fuckk– pussy so good gonna make me cum so quickly” He said in a raspy voice. “Keep squeezing me with that pussy baby – ahh f-fuck fuck fuck keep milking my cock until it explodes inside you” Tsukishima accelerated a littlemore, keeping the thrusts shallower.

“Cum with me baby, please? Cum on my cock so I can cum inside you.” His hand moved down between you, finding your clit and massaging it in firm, rhythmic circles, in time with his thrusts. You cried out at the mastery of his fingers, thrusting your hips against his to feel him in your throat.

“Oh y-yess fuck me back with that pussy,” Tsukishima's strong hands ran shakily to grip your sides firmly, guiding your body like a rag doll to hammer even harder inside you. “Come on pretty baby, let'me see that tiny cunt cum nice and easy f'me…Just like that– oh fuckk yea… you gonna make me cum baby, Ah fuck yesyesyesyes gonna cum… o-oh fuck, gonna cum so fucking hard – ahh Fuck–!”

You felt your climax building fast, like a wave about to break. His thrusts became sloppier, more desperate, his moans mixing with yours. And when the orgasm hit you, taking you apart completely, he came with you, burying himself all the way in and letting out a deep, hoarse moan into your neck, shaking all over.

The bodies remained glued together for silent seconds. Only the sound of the two trying to breathe properly filled the stuffy bathroom.

Tsukishima rested his forehead against hers again, still panting, and smiled—a slow smile, of someone satisfied and completely surrendered.

“Tell me you’ll stay after this.”

You smiled back, your fingers still playing with the back of his neck.

“I don't want to be anywhere else but here, with you.”

He laughed, and you felt the laughter vibrate against your body.

“That’s good to hear… because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

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