#an impossible gap to cross | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudystevie · 3 months

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take my heart and start a fire

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pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 4566

summary || sam and nat play cupid

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, degradation, teasing, dry-humping, daddy kink, pussy slaps, dacryphilia, begging, asphyxiation, unprotected sex, aftercare

author's note || 18+ ONLY. hello, one-bed trope with bucky lives in my mind rent free and i decided to do something about it. enjoy! not proof-read yet. feel free to comment, reblog, and send me requests!

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“Alright, we got two rooms, one with just one bed and one with two beds. Should be enough to cover us tonight.” Sam claps his hands together as Bucky slowly walks up to the group.

This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out mission. It was not easy by any means, but it was nothing the group hadn’t done before. You weren’t even supposed to be here. Usually, you did most of SHIELD’s groundwork, directing and organizing missions alongside Maria. However, due to issues with communication with one particular agent in the previous mission, Fury had instructed you to be on-site to ensure there would be no gaps in the instructions Maria and Steve were relaying.

Except there was a gap. There was a gigantic gap in communication when you instructed Bucky to cover the cargo trailers in the westbound direction. Still, he decided you were wasting his time, so he left the trailers unattended, where the enemy was then able to take advantage of his isolation and overpower him. Had Natasha not interfered when she did, you did not even want to think about what could have happened. So you let him know just how pissed off you were the whole ride to the nearest motel since the world decided to unleash torrential rain at this very moment which made it impossible for you guys to navigate the jet out of whatever fucking city you were in.

Bucky didn’t say a single word. Not when you were yelling at him while patching him up. Not when you wouldn't shut the fuck up because he never fucking listened. Not when you were running into the beat-down motel with its flickering sign on its last life while still screaming at him.

He just stared at you. And he occasionally clenched his jaw.

This wasn’t the first time Bucky disobeyed your direct order and it wasn’t the first time he got hurt because of that. You understood him, tried to initiate kindness, and extended a friendly hand toward him. But all he ever did was stare at you. He never spoke to you more than he absolutely needed to. He never paid any attention to you when you would hang out with Steve, Sam, or even Nat and Wanda. And it did sting you just a bit. A pang in your heart every time he walked past you like you didn’t exist because you had developed a crush on him since the first time you saw him a few months ago. When you would put a little extra effort into your appearance every morning because he made you feel little butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach every time you would even cross paths.

When you did catch him staring at you, the weight of his eyes unmistakable, your heart rate would increase to match the flutters in your stomach, your cheeks heating under his gaze. He would look away immediately as if thrown out of his trance and catapulted into what he truly felt for you.

Disdain. Disgust. Maybe a little lust.

God, you hated Bucky Barnes. You hated how you didn’t hate him, not even when he dismissed you somehow even more than he ignored everyone else.

You were going to share a bed with Nat. Bucky and Sam could get the room with two beds because, of course, that was a reasonable conclusion.

Apparently fucking not.

“I am not sharing a bed with him!” you screeched at Sam and Nat indignantly while the smug pair stood with faux innocent expressions. They needed you and Bucky to sort out whatever tension was between them by any means necessary.

They stayed silent, and you, ever the chatterbox today, decided to refuse. “Nat, I can’t sleep in the same room as him. He hates me! I can’t sleep when I’m stressed!” You whined, pleading with your best friend to take some pity on you. She knew better than anyone what you felt for Bucky, and she also knew love better than anyone when she saw it.

Sam and Bucky walked a few steps ahead as you approached your door.

“Sweetie, you and me are the only ones keeping up comms with Steve and Maria. It makes sense for us to be split up tonight so we can at least direct these morons at the same time and handle any issues faster than we’d be able to if we shared a room and they were in the other one.” Natasha knew she was right, and Sam fought back a smirk as their plan was falling into fruition, given the look on your face.

Bucky remained quiet as if he could not possibly care less if you slept on top of him in bed or a ditch.

You were this close to wishing the latter was your inevitable fate.

“I hate it when you’re right.” As you approach the doors, you mutter and watch Sam take out the room keys.

Sam offers a small smile as Bucky walks in before you, patting you on the head and giving you a forehead kiss, “sweet dreams, pumpkin,” before shutting the door behind you as you roll your eyes.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” Bucky’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence that had fallen after the lock clicked. His voice was raspy because he hadn’t used it in a while, and you barely held back the shiver that ran down your spine at his tone.

You take one look at the fraying carpet and decide that it has been years since this floor had some TLC. You look up at him to find his heavy-set eyes already on you, “I’m not sleeping on the floor either.”

His jaw clenches, and another unreadable emotion swirls in his eyes as he replies, “Guess that settles it, then.”

You roll your eyes and huff out that you’re jumping in the shower, not waiting for his reply- not that there was one. The water takes a while to warm up, and in the meantime, you peel your clothes off of yourself, dirtied by rainwater and the dirt, debris, and sweat that had accumulated earlier. You step into the shower and try to enjoy the feel of warm water cascading over your sore body.

You rarely made it onto the field as you genuinely preferred doing the background work, planning missions, writing up plans and procedures, assigning responsibilities to each Avenger and guiding them through the field while you stayed at the headquarters. Your muscles were undoubtedly aware of that fact, as you had to do a lot more hand-to-hand combat due to Bucky’s stupid mistake.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander towards him, knowing you were completely bare just 10 feet away from him, how he would grunt in exertion and deliver calculated blows to his opponent. He was precisely your type: tall, brooding, broad shoulders, thick thighs. He didn’t speak that much, but his words were carefully weighed every time he did. He was so grumpy all the time, such a masculine man. You just loved it.

You tried not to think about how he didn’t feel the same. And also about the fact that you would be sharing a bed with him.

The water grew cold, and you realized you had been in the shower for upwards of twenty minutes. You shut off the water and wrap yourself in one of the towels provided by the hotel. You pulled out your pyjama set since there was a possibility that you would have to stay somewhere tonight due to the heavy rain. You didn’t think you were sleeping with Bucky, or you would have grabbed something a bit more conservative. You slip into the white tank top and shorts with a dainty floral design. You mentally prepared yourself to make a bee-line for the bed so you wouldn’t have to face Bucky while wearing next to nothing.

A few feet away, Bucky was scrolling through the shitty channels playing on the shitty TV, ignoring the way his heart raced when the bathroom door unlocked and you emerged from the small room. He tried so hard not to stare at your outfit, unable to ignore the way all the blood in his body rushed to his dick when your tiny shorts rolled up even higher as you innocently bent over to check over your work laptop for any updates.

“You really gonna wear that?” He scoffs and immediately realizes it didn’t exactly come out as playful as he would have liked. He winces at himself as you put the laptop back into its case and turn around to face him, and he can't stop himself from quickly glancing over your body.

Crossing your arms under your chest, unintentionally drawing his attention to your tits, you scoff at him. “If I knew I was gonna be stuck in this shithole with you, then I would have made sure to wear a fucking hazmat suit.”

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not gonna bite.” He smirked, finally deciding on a channel he liked and turning his attention to it as you stood and stared at him, mouth open because out of all the things you expected him to say, that was not one of them, especially not with the flirtatious lilt to his voice.

“Do not- do not tell me to relax! And don’t call me that! And- and ugh!” You retort weakly, strutting the few steps it took to get to the other side of the bed,

Bucky licks his lips as you lay down next to him with your back towards him. Still huffing and puffing like the brat you were.

He snorts at you, glancing at his watch and turning the TV off.

“Do not snort at me, James.” Your voice comes out sharp, and he snorts again.

“Tell me again what I can’t do, sweetheart? " he asks in a mockingly sweet voice. It makes you sick to your stomach.

With desire.

You ignore him and tug the small comforter towards you, the bed suddenly feeling really small, with Bucky’s large frame taking up more than half of it.

“Quit stealing the covers.” He grunts out, tugging them back towards him and leaving you bare and exposed to the cool air of the room. You gasp and sit up., using all your force to pull the covers back towards you, and even though you both know he let go, you still stick your tongue out at him.

He grumbles something under his breath, and you smile victoriously. You’ll let the covers go eventually; you need to bask in your victory for a few minutes. Your mind begins to relax as you snuggle into the bed before you hear a sharp exhale, and somehow, you go from facing the dim wall to being pinned under Bucky. His frame entirely dwarfs yours, and the only light filtering in the room was the street lights and moon, the thin curtains doing nothing to block the shine. You shriek as you’re manhandled so quickly and forced to look into Bucky’s now dark blue eyes.

“Enough. I’ve had enough.” He growls, his hand pinning both your wrists down, and you have to fight yourself to keep in all tells of how aroused you are by the situation.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he continues. “Didn’t shut up for two hours straight. Always think you’re right. Always act like you’re smarter than everyone. Always fucking teasing me with your slutty fucking outfits.” He looks down at your tank top, almost angry when he sees your nipples poking through the thin material, but he doesn’t give you a chance to say anything.

Because now, Bucky’s talking. And he’s going to make sure you hear each and every word.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

A squeak escapes your lips as he presses his body down on yours.

“You think I can’t hear the way your heart rate picks up when I’m around?” His head drops lower, and his voice drops even lower, pulling a whimper from your parted lips. Your mind is spinning as you realize you may not have been as discreet as you thought you were. You entirely forgot to consider the fact that Bucky is a supersoldier, with enhanced hearing.

His rumbling voice cuts through your flurry of thoughts, “You think I can’t fucking smell you?” He practically sneers at you, and you must be a sick, sick person with the way you’re sure you’ve never been more wet in your life. “You think I can’t smell the way you drip from this little pussy every time I walk in the room? Every time someone mentions my goddamn name? I can smell her right now sweetheart. You like me forcing you down don’t you?” His breath fans over your face as you’re forced to focus on him, his body and his scent and his voice overwhelming you. Your body shudders when he gently rocks his crotch against yours, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“What baby? Cat got your tongue now? You were being such a brat to me earlier.” He grunts, squeezing your cheeks and jaw in his free hand as you subconsciously buck your hips against his.

“Bucky please…” You whine, squirming against his impenetrable hold.

He smirks, “what’s wrong honey? You haven’t been this quiet or polite all day.”

“You- you’re being such a meanie! You knew the whole time and just never did anything about it!” You whine, your voice catching in your throat with each languid rock of his crotch angled perfectly against your clit.

He laughs in your face and takes in the sight before him, your head thrown to the side as your chest heaves, your hips moving in tandem with his, your pouted lips swollen from being bitten so often. You were even more gorgeous like this and Bucky didn’t know that was possible.

“I wanted to see if you’d break first. But then, you just had to walk in here wearing this pathetic excuse of a pyjama set. And I just had to have you honey baby.”

You look back at him, a fiery expression in your eyes, “I don’t think that’s the real reason. I think you just wouldn’t be able to handle me. I think you can’t fuck me the way I need to be.” You spit back, not wanting to submit without a fight despite knowing that was exactly the direction this was going.

In an instant Bucky’s metal hand was on your throat, squeezing enough to make your eyes blur for a second as you let out a whimper. “Is that right honey? You think I’ve never dealt with a rotten brat like you before? I know you pretend to put up a fight, I know you’re two strokes away from cumming all over yourself just from a little dry-humping. I know brats like you crave attention, but baby when you finally get it you better not run away? You got that?” He asks earnestly, his eyes locking on yours.

“Do your worst James.”

The second the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. The kiss is unlike any you’ve had before, it’s immediately messy and passionate, his tongue sliding in yours as he takes the lead, swallowing all your mewls and whimpers, finally letting go of your wrists and your fingers immediately go to his cropped hair, tugging on the short strands as he dominates you. You scramble to pull your shorts down but his hands flick your wrists away, giving you a glare.

“Did I say you could take these off, huh slut?”

You whimper and shake your head no, finding yourself wanting to submit to him all too quickly.

He slides his briefs down to reveal his cock. You actually drooled a little at the sight of his length and girth, with beads of pre-cum glistening in the dim light of the room. You can’t control yourself as your hands go to wrap around his length, barely able to hold him in your hands as he hisses, bucking his hips into your hands before swatting them away once again.

“You don’t get to touch honey baby. Not yet at least. You yelled at me for hours today, it really hurt my feelings you know.” He muses, beginning to rub his length against your white shorts that are completely drenched through, your pussy sensitive and responsive. “I don’t think you deserve to be fucked sweetheart. You deserve to have this cunt rubbed on and came on. Just used like a cum rag.” He goes a little further, reading your reaction and when your back arches as much as his beefy body allowed you to, he knows you liked it.

“Please James please I’m sorry, I’ll be good I swear!” You whine, your voice rising in pitch as his bare cock slides up and down the length of your pussy, and even through the layer seperating you, it was euphoric.

“I dunno honey, might have to beg and cry a little more and I’ll see how nice I’m feelin’ tonight.” He smiles cockily, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Almost instantly your eyes are watering as you clutch his biceps, morphing your features into big doe eyes and pouted lips, jutting your chest out in an attempt to persuade him further. “I’m sorry for bein’ a brat and yelling at you. I’m sorry for talking back and- and I need you James. Need you to fuck me please I wanted it for so long!” You drag your sentence and bite your lip, tears spiling onto your cheeks.

He inhales sharply at the sound of your begging, stilling his hips for a moment as he restrains himself from cumming before he’s even seen your bare pussy. And in the next second he ripping your shorts to shreds, making you shriek and you can’t even get a reaction out before he spits onto your already soaked cunt, watching his spit mingle with your own arousal. You moan at the feeling, your hold twitching and practically begging to be filled.

Bucky breathes in your scent since it envelopes his nostrils without any restrictions for the first time. When he opens his eyes again and sees your hazy expression he decides he can’t wait. He’s not gonna take it slow because he needs to feel you clench around him right now. His flesh index finger teases your pulsing hole, shoving the tip of his finger inside you as you whine, legs spreading for him on instinct. “Fuck she’s just begging to be stuffed isn’t she? Just aching to have my cock stretch her open.” He groans, dropping his forehead to yours as you chant breathy yes’s, mouth falling open and tears continuing down your face as he finally spreads you open on his cock.

You have never felt so full in your life. Bucky was absolutely larger than average, in all ways. And it was exactly what you had been craving. He moans as you clench around him, your hole trying to push him out but pull him in at the same time. Before you know it he’s balls deep inside of you, your cream coating the hairs at the base of his length as you moan loudly, uncaring of the fact that Sam and Natasha were just a paper-thin wall away.

Your nails dug crescents into Buckys bulging biceps as he allowed you both a few moments to adjust to each other. “Oh my god Bucky you’re so- I’m so full.” Your words are breathy and slurred, and Bucky presses a kiss to each of your cheeks as he slowly grinds his hips into yours, not fully thrusting yet.

“You know I want this to be more than just a quick fuck. When we get back I wanna take you out, wine and dine you properly.” He whispers against your lips, his hands and voice gentle compared to his earlier disposition.

You nod your head in agreement, “I want that too Bucky, but I need you to fuck me right now.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling almost entirely out of you, allowing your hole to stretch around his tip before he slams into you, making your back arch and all the breath from your lungs dissipates. You squeal his name as he begins fucking into you with little care to be gentle. Your hands scramble to hold on as the headboard slams into the wall with every push and pull of his hips.

“I thought you said I couldn’t handle you honey baby. But look at you now, so stupid on my dick and just taking what I give you.” He mocks you, his metal hand finding its way to your throat once again and squeezing, relishing in the way you cunt clenches against him when he does. You cry out louder than before and he hisses, slapping his palm over your mouth. He grunts through clenched teeth, “shut the fuck up. You want Sam and Nat to hear you crying for my dick huh? What would they say if they saw strong and independent you, stretched open and cock-drunk, pinned under me and crying for me?”

Your eyes clench shut as your words are unintelligible and muffled by his palm. He coos at you and clicks his tongue, making you shiver. “Don’t think too much honey baby, just take it. This is what you’re meant to do, not be a brat. Just take my cock.” He groans, speeding up his thrusts as the sound of skin slapping skin and your wetness squelching fill the room.

Your chest begins heaving as the oxygen to your brain takes more effort to get there. You were being propelled to your orgasm as you begin chanting the fact, your voice so pornographic and unlike your own but you can’t even find it in yourself to be shocked.

“‘M gonna cum, m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me cum please Daddy please!” The words leave your lips faster than you can process, and what was about to erupt into the most powerful orgasm you have ever had, was left denied and unsatisfied and you cried out, beginning your protests when Bucky flipped you around, your back to his chest as he shoved himself back inside of you. He pulled you up by your hair and brought his lips to your ears, his cock hitting an even deeper angle as you struggled to keep up.

“What did you call me?” He growls, not letting up his thrusts but expecting you to answer.

Your brain struggles to process his words, but once you do you’re quick to realize you let the word you often used in your fantasies about Bucky slip. You immediately apologize, thinking he must be off-put by your lewdness.

He cuts your scrambled apologies off with his heavy voice, “say it again. That’s what you’ve been really dying to call me isn’t it. Just needed Daddy to take what he needed from you didn’t you?”

“Oh fuck.” Your head falls against his chest as he wraps his bicep around your throat, forcing you upright, “yes Daddy, needed my Daddy to take care of me.” You slur out, Your hands clutching his bicep as his metal fingers begin playing expertly with your throbbing clit.

“That’s right slut, I’m your Daddy. I’m your fucking Daddy.” He impales you on his dick, his cock reaching all the rights spots as your brain truly begins to leave you, all you can do is succumb to the pleasure Bucky is inflicting on you. Your pussy clenches harder than it has before as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach, you try to run from it but Bucky’s strong hold doesn’t allow you to move even a slither away.

“Oh what does this little pussy clenching mean huh? Tell Daddy baby, tell Daddy what it means when I feel you clench around my cock huh? You gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over yourself like the stupid little toy you are?” His voice is breathless in your ear as he nears his own high, your body shaking as your high begins building to impossible heights.

You slur out something that resembles his title and an exclamation that you’re gonna cum, and his metal hand slaps your clit once, and then twice, his gravelly voice in your ear degrading you, and your high explodes from your body. You feel it everywhere as you don’t register anything except for pleasure. Pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Bucky drops his forehead to your shoulder, muttering your name through clenched teeth as he calls you a good girl, before stuffing you full of his cum. Thick white ropes paint your swollen walls and it only amplifies your high as you struggle to breathe, your mind and body overwhelmed and overstimulated as Bucky pumps you full of his cum.

He gently lets you down and your limp body manages to cling onto him, needing to feel him close to you as you reel from your explosive orgasm. He shushes you, kissing your forehead, cooing at you, praising you. Everything you need to avoid experiencing a negative subdrop since he did just put you into such a submissive mindset.

It takes a couple minutes of his tender words and touches for you to come back to yourself, and when you do he smiles sweetly at you. Pulling out of you and shushing your whines, as he reaches over to his nightstand where there were a few clean hand towels, and he cleans you up, mindful of your sensitivity and he places a kiss right above your clit, his beard scratching the sensitive button making you shudder and mewl.

He wraps you up in his arms and pulling you closer, nuzzling your cheek with his nose as you blink at him.

“I was being serious you know, I don’t want this to be a one and done thing. I wanna be yours, if you’ll have me.” He adds, his voice trailing off and you put your hand on his stubbled cheek before pressing your lips to his.

“That’s all I’ve wanted since I first saw you.” You say softly, basking in being so close to him and having all his attention on you.

He smiles brightly, pressing his lips to yours with more fervour and flutters in his heart. “You’re mine now sweetie, stuck with me forever. No return policy.” He teases.

“I think you’re the one who’s stuck with me after you just dicked me down like that. No way am I getting rid of you.” You mumble sleepily, clinging to him as he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and watching you slip into a dreamland state.

For the first time in years, Bucky sleeps a full eight hours. And he wakes up with you by his side.

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The next morning, when it’s 9 AM, and you waddle onto the jet, Bucky tailing close behind you, a hand on your back to support your weight, Natasha and Sam share knowing looks, and Sam quickly texts Steve and Tony. He let them know they were on their way, and they owed him and Nat 100 bucks because their plan worked.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes fanfiction

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seattlesellie · 21 days

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dads best friend!abby scenario cause why the hell not.

cw: sexual themes mdni, age gap, abby’s a cocky but charming asshole, power dynamics-ish? : ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

— "Oh and honey? Doctor Anderson's coming over for dinner" Everything felt oppressively hot and everything felt impossibly tight. The food seared your tongue, humid steam rising from the vegetables on your plate causing your throat to constrict and your eyes to sting with tears. Your right hand was clenched in a tight fist, left hand gripping your fork like it might grow legs and run away if you let go of your grasp. Your tights were itching relentlessly, tank top strap kept sliding off of your shoulder and built itself a home down your arm. Your lipgloss felt too sticky and your palms too clammy, you felt agitated, uncomfortable and way too goddamn nervous.

You felt consumed.

You didn’t know why.

Sure, Doctor Anderson was attractive, with palms twice bigger than yours. She wore a tight fitted muscle tee that had you squinting then turning your head around fast enough to crack your neck, noticing a goddamn six pack poking through maroon fabric. And yeah, she had an intoxicating scent of pine and wood and a hint of pepper that made your eyes nearly roll back inside of your skull, voice silky smooth, thighs firm and muscular, eyes icy blue, a smile that made you melt and all that stupid jazz,

but none of these things were a good enough explanation to why you were feeling this way — dazed, stupid, all bothered.

She sat down on the dinner table’s leather chair in a manspread as if she owned the place, and her thighs bulked up even more, veins of her arms becoming more prominent. She always knew what to say, and when you cracked a joke about orthopedic surgeons she cheekily told you to “watch it” — which made you thickly gulp and sheepishly smile down to the floor like your idol from age thirteen just told you they want to marry you and have you forever.

You needed an ice bath, but she also wouldn’t stop goddamn looking at you, even when you made it clear that eye contact with the surgeon, your father’s best friend, was a task that you apparently couldn’t manage to complete.

Her look made you nervous, and when she narrowed her eyes you nearly choked on a carrot, and when your father asked you “What’s wrong, kid?” you couldn’t even answer because what was wrong — was that you had to cross your legs together cause of some aching down there, and what was wrong is that his best friend made you feel like you were losing your mind at 9pm with a fork glued to your palm.

So you lied.

“M’just... tired, I guess” you murmured, then fake yawned, then internally cringed at yourself for performing the worlds fakest goddamn yawn.

“Already?” he voiced, shifting his gaze towards a visibly amused Abby. “Quite the night owl, that one... usually”

"What can I say, dad, loooong day" answered you, with a syrupy voice she wanted to stick her fingers inside and lick.

Abby chuckled, then smirked at you even though the response wasn’t directed at her. Then, she looked over to your father who was gnawing on some overcooked steak.

“She’s a kid, needs to get her sleep”

You scoffed, which made doctor Anderson poke the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “What...?” she murmured cockily, cracking a toothy grin. Your tights felt tight again, glued to your hot flesh, then you realized why they fucking call them tights because dammit they really are tight.

“I'm not a kid, can, y’know... drink, and stuff. Plus... M'busy, with... College"

You sounded like a damn idiot. All Abby did was chuckle and tilt her head back slightly, leaning further back in her chair.

“T'aw, I know, What'ryou studying again? Fashion science?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. That bitch.

"Sorry I don't wanna go to medical school and spend seven years of my life sticking my hands down a corpse"

So you didn’t go to your room after that, caught up in a whirlwind of proving a point. You stayed stubbornly with your feet glued to the floor and listened to Abby and your father ramble and yap on about work shenanigans. Usually, you’d semi doze off at this point, go on your phone and occasionally throw a snarky remark, but this was different. She was different than any of his other friends. Abby was actually funny, she didn’t brag too much, and if she did it faded quick cause she really was that good.

Abby threw a reference to a book you thought no one else had read except for you. You timidly lifted your gaze and remarked, “Oh, i read that book, actually”

Abby smiled and flattened her hands on the wooden table. “Smart cookie, huh? Did you like it?”

You batted your eyelashes like a kitten seeking more strokes at the praise, not noticing that body language of yours.

But she did.

You talked about the book for a solid ten minutes. Your father was the one, surprisingly, to go on his phone and faux-snort when he felt excluded from the conversation ran by two intellectuals and a giant elephant who goes by the name of "Tension", in the middle of the room.

Abby made you laugh and she made you think and she listened to your anecdotes. It made you buzz with electricity, and it made you yearn for her attention.

it also made her long for yours.

Your father interrupted by showing Abby a picture from work. When her eyes lowered to his phone, she shot you a lingering gaze and a smirk. You, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks, shyly looked away.

It was tight everywhere all over again.

So they talked more about work, Abby’s patients, their coworkers, Doctor Martha’s chicken pot pie, Doctor Johnson’s bizarre antics, the glass door no one bothered on calling to be fixed, blah blah blah, an endless stream of chatter.

And you listened, you listened with rapt attention, every ounce of your focus aimed at the prospect of another one-on-one conversation with Abby. Each time the older woman casted you with a quick glance, you flushed even harder. You waited, and waited and waited but your father was a blabber mouth, and you were oh so impatient,

you began mindlessly kicking the wooden table's legs.

Your sock-covered feet shifted restlessly from side to side, then you tucked them beneath your chair and resumed kicking, the movements gaining force. You curled your toes and continued to play with the table's handles. Abby winced, but you didn’t pay her any mind. You kicked again, with more force now.

You sighed.

Abby cleared her throat, and her cheeks suddenly bore a faint crimson blush. You couldn't help but notice, hm, must be the red wine finally catching on to her form. Ignoring, you kicked again, and the doctors back straightened and she stiffened in response. Your father asked her a question, and Abby… stammered.

“Yeah, that guys… uh— yeah”

You rested your chin on your hands and lightly tapped your fingertips against your cheeks thrice.

Then you kicked again, harder, you were bored and restless, waiting, give me some attention, Abby —

And then, you felt a pair of shoes encase your feet, ankles creating a cage around yours. It was then and only then that you had the startling realization: you hadn't been kicking the table at all. Instead, you had been unknowingly engaged in a game of footsies beneath the table with a goddamn world class surgeon.

And oh god did you want to die.

And oh god did abby sport a shit eating grin on her face that only you seemed to catch.

You froze, not even able to release your feet from her iron like grip. Unmistakably, she didn’t seem to release her grip either. So she kept them there, caged and locked.

“Alright,” your father sighed and cleared his throat. “Got some cuban cigars in the yard, shall we?” he gestured towards Abby, who was still holding your feet in her tight grasp.

“Yeah, go ‘head, I’ll just clear the table” she murmured absentmindedly. So kind and polite, huh?

You father chuckled and tapped abby on her shoulder, as he rose from his sit and straightened his back. “Nah, let the kid handle it”

Abby shot you a glance. Your pupils were dilated and your chest heaved rapidly up and down.

“She's not a kid, remember?”

Abby let go of your feet and you rose from the chair with such haste, you nearly had whiplash. When you lifted your plate, staying mute, looking like a deer caught in headlights as your father paced towards the yard, Abby gazed at you, and her eyebrow arched up in utter amusement.

“You uh, play soccer, by any chance?” quipped her, crossing her arms on her firm hard muscly chest.

You gulped.

“Huh?”

Abby lifted her wine glass to her lips, taking a sip that left a glistening sheen on her bottom lip. A chuckle escaped her.

“Jus’, y’know… with all the kicking, and everything. I mean, take a girl out for a drink before you do all that, yeah?”

You stood in shock, you didn’t speak, didn’t mutter a word, merely humming in response. Abby grabbed the plates from your hand, and then she grabbed the salt.

She furrowed her eyebrows and huffed. “M'just ’joking, smart cookie. If you wanna play, let's play"

Then you heard your father’s voice down the hall.

“Sweetheart?” he paced closer as Abby walked towards the sink. He leaned over the wall,

“forgot to mention it to you but, Abby’s staying over for the weekend”

#abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson drabble #dbf!abby #doctor!abby #abby anderson fic #abby anderson #tlou2 fic

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samodivaa · 2 months

Text

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

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

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

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

#lord have mercy #drabble #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky x reader

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joelmillerisapunk · 3 months

Text

my dirty little secret

no outbreak bfd!Joel Miller x f!reader

masterlist

↳ Wordcount: 5,422

↳ Summary: Since staying at the Millers, you've done nothing but tease Joel, seeing just how far you can push him. Joel's tired of it and decides it's time to take control of the situation.

~ Or ~

↳ Joel's tired of being hard all the fucking time while you're around and gives you a taste of your own medicine.

↳ Warnings: 18+, soft but dom, large age gap (make it your own 🩷), teasing, unprotected p in v, use of "daddy, baby girl, good girl" slight use of "slut" and "brat"

↳ Notes: Hi, this is the first fic I've ever posted anywhere and the first smut I've ever written. I'm scared beyond belief, but I hope you enjoy 🥰 dividers by @saradika-graphics. This was inspired from many different songs and that scene in preoutbreak where Joel's on the phone with Tommy in the gif I horribly made but it gave 'me giving daddy a nice treat while he's on the phone'.

Joel tried to avert his gaze, but it was near impossible when you left the door halfway open. It seemed like an intentional act, a performance meant solely for him. The way you nonchalantly slipped off your shirt, your bra following suit, revealing your bare shoulders and neck, was a sight that he couldn't ignore. He knew he shouldn't be watching, that it was wrong on so many levels. You were significantly younger than him and, more importantly, Sarah's best friend. But when your jeans dropped to the floor, and you bent over to remove them, Joel couldn't help the surge of blood that rushed to his cock.

He yearned for your panties to join the pile on the floor. As you started putting on your pajamas, he remained transfixed, watching your hips sway as you donned the tiniest pajama shorts he had ever seen, and the t-shirt from the previous night. He felt an urgent need to leave before you realized he was there, watching. But he couldn't bring himself to move.

Ever since you started staying with him and Sarah, you'd been a constant presence in his dreams. He couldn't fathom why, but the thought of you was never far from his mind. The dreams were always so vivid, so real, and they left him yearning for more. He wasn't sure if it was you or your presence that attracted him. But the urge to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your skin under his fingers, was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

In his dreams, he'd already crossed that line, reaching out to you, pulling you close. His cock twitched at the memory, and he groaned softly, his imagination running wild. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized you had finished dressing. He quickly left, hoping to escape before you caught him. But the image of you, half-naked, was burned into his mind, a sight he knew he wouldn't be able to forget anytime soon.

As soon as you were certain Joel had left, you tiptoed to the door, peeking around the corner. Seeing no one, I giggled to myself and closed the door. The thought of Joel had been consuming you ever since you first met him and Sarah during your first day of college. Watching him lug around heavy boxes, his thick arms straining with the effort, had sparked something within you. You couldn't help but imagine what those large hands would feel like on your body.

So, when you found yourself in need of a place to stay, you couldn't have been more grateful for the Miller's hospitality. They welcomed you with open arms, offering you a room as long as you needed it. And you couldn't resist the urge to test the waters, to see just how far you could push Joel.

In your mind, you were determined to break him, to make it impossible for him to resist you. Every glance, every touch, was a calculated move on your part. You wanted him to see you, to really see you, and to want you just as much as you wanted him.

Your mind wandered back to the way his eyes had lingered on your body, the way his breath had caught in his throat. It was a small victory, but it was enough to keep you going, to keep pushing the boundaries.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slowly stirred from your slumber. The scent of pancakes and coffee wafted up from downstairs, mingling with the faint sound of music coming from down the hall. Your bed was soft and inviting, but you knew you needed to start your day.

You made your way to the bathroom, still half-asleep, eager to take a quick shower and start your day. But as you opened the door, you were met with an unexpected sight. Joel was in the shower, completely unaware of your presence.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But you couldn't resist the temptation to take a peek. You positioned yourself behind the privacy wall, peeking around the corner just enough to catch a glimpse.

Joel was soaping himself up, completely oblivious to your presence. You couldn't help but notice the way the water droplets slid down his muscular arms and chest, tracing a path through the greyed hairs that decorated his body. You imagined what it would be like to run your fingers down his toned chest, feeling the strength and warmth of his body beneath your fingertips.

The sight of him took your breath away, and you couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire deep within you. You had always found Joel attractive, but in that moment, you realized just how much he had been consuming your thoughts.

Joel suddenly turned off the shower and turned around, catching you mid-peek. Your eyes were still glued to him, and you couldn't help but stare at his god-like form, his body dripping with water. He couldn't help but smirk at you, his muscles glistening in the light.

Joel started walking toward you, stopping inches from your face. You could smell the body wash he had been using, and you felt your heart racing in your chest. You were frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller, I thought the shower was free," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel just smiled at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's okay, darlin', I don't mind the company," he said, gently touching your face. You felt his strong hands on your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the embrace.

Joel leaned closer to you, his face almost touching yours. He put his other hand around your waist and pulled you against his wet, naked body. You could feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you couldn't help but shiver in anticipation. "Mr. Miller - I," you started to say, but Joel interrupted you mid-sentence, covering your mouth with the hand resting on the side of your face.

"Shhhh," he whispered, pressing his lips against your ear. You shivered slightly as he sucked softly on your earlobe, sending goosebumps up and down your spine. He began to stroke your hair, and he whispered again, "You can't help it, can you? You wanted this, didn't you?" His voice was husky and deep, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your heart was racing, and you couldn't help but nod your head in agreement.

"You been with a man before?" he asked in a low voice as he moved his lips further south and down your neck. Joel's tongue flicked out lightly, grazing your collarbone, and you sighed at the sensation.

But you quickly remembered Joel was asking you a question, and you had to answer honestly.

You shook your head, "No" you squeaked quietly, "No sir," the truth was you had been with other men before, but they were no men compared to who you were with right now. Joel chuckled a bit, his cock definitely growing now.

"Oh sweet girl, I'm gonna show you how a real man's supposed to take care of you," he said, his voice low and husky. Suddenly Joel pushed you against the tile wall and pinned your hands above your head. He kissed you deeply, then moved his lips down your jaw, neck, and collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

As soon as Joel caught you peaking behind the wall, he lost all resolve. He knew you were playing some game, but right now all he could think about was getting inside you. With you in his arms, pressed against the wall, Joel pressed his lips to your neck, breathing you in and letting out a groan. Your nipples hardened in anticipation through the fabric of your thin pajama shirt.

Just as Joel was about to take you to his bed and fuck you senseless, he heard Sarah's rushed footsteps making their way up the stairs. Without wasting another second, Joel carried you to the shower and turned it on, hoping to muffle any sounds you might make. The water was cold at first, but Joel quickly adjusted the temperature, and you gasped as the warm water cascaded down your body.

"Dad? Breakfast is ready. It's gonna get cold!" Sarah called out, clearly wondering where Joel was.

"Uh yeah sorry kiddo, I'm coming," Joel called back, his voice strained with restraint. As he turned the shower off, you tried to pull his hand off your mouth, but his grip only tightened.

"Hurry up!" you both heard before the rushed steps back down the stairs. Joel let go of your mouth and pulled you to his bare chest. He buried his nose in your neck and inhaled deeply. You moaned in contentment.

"I think it might be time for me to get out, baby girl," Joel murmured, his voice low and husky. He could feel how needy you were, and he was desperate to get inside you. Your body warmed furiously, and you nodded against his shoulder before slowly pushing yourself away from him. Before leaving the shower, he grabbed your chin in his hands and tilted it, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't worry." He grinned before wrapping a towel around his waist. He left the bathroom, leaving you to get dressed and compose yourself.

After your little encounter in the shower, Joel couldn't help but steal glances at you throughout dinner. He sat across from you at the table, trying to maintain his composure as he listened to Sarah chatter on about her day. But his thoughts kept wandering back to you, to the way you felt in his arms, to the way you responded to his touch.

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for betraying Sarah's trust, but he couldn't deny the feelings that had awakened within him. You were a breath of fresh air, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise mundane life. You made him feel alive, and he couldn't help but be drawn to you.

You tried to focus on the conversation, but you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel as well. You couldn't help but think about the shower, about the way his body felt against yours, about the way he looked at you with such intensity. You hadn't even kissed him yet, but you couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you allowed your foot to brush against Joel's under the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he subtly moved his foot closer to yours, letting you know he was enjoying it.

As Sarah kept talking, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. You imagined what it would be like to kiss Joel, to feel his lips on yours. You imagined what it would be like to run your hands over his body, to feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips. Before you knew it, your foot had made its way up Joel's inner thigh, stopping just short of his hardening cock. Joel jolted in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as he felt your foot against him.

He tried to shift in his seat to create distance, but your leg always seemed to find its way back. This time, it made its way to the tip of his very hard cock. Before he could think, he quickly put his hand on top of your foot to hold it down. But it was too late. Sarah looked confused when he did so, and Joel just smiled at her apologetically. He couldn't say anything because he felt like he might come any second. When he finally regained his composure, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I'll clean up in a bit, need to use the washroom." Without missing a beat, he bolted out of his chair and was walking a little too fast upstairs.

After your footplay under the table, Joel excused himself and went upstairs to collect himself. When he returned, he found the kitchen cleaned up and you sitting on the couch. He sat down next to you and asked, "Where's Sarah?" You looked over at him, smirking playfully. "She said your cooking made her sick."

Joel laughed at your comment and moved closer to you. He brushed his finger along the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "You're playing a dangerous game little girl, and I think you know that." He whispered huskily against your skin, leaning closer to you until his lips touched your neck. He gently nibbled your earlobe before whispering, "But, I don't mind playing dirty."

He placed his mouth softly against your earlobe, causing you to shiver with anticipation. His hand was now moving further and further up your inner thigh until it just brushed over your throbbing clit. His lips still hovered by your ear. "You're quite the little brat, aren't you?" He murmured. "Thinking you can tease me like that, huh? Gotta play by my rules right now, I'm in charge tonight... and you're gonna behave, is that understood little girl?"

But you were still feeling a little defiant. You wanted to see just how far you could push him. You pulled away, keeping your face inches from his. "You think you can tame me?" You questioned, watching as his eyes darkened slightly. Joel grabbed your face roughly with his calloused hands, causing you to back down a little in surprise.

"I don't like the word tame. I prefer the word... break." He said, his voice low and commanding. "If I'm gonna take charge, I'm gonna take it completely. I promise you, you're not gonna be wild by the end of the night. Not with the way you've been goin' around acting like a little slut. I'm not gonna sit back and watch you throw yourself at me. I'm not gonna be satisfied just sitting there waitin' for you. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk. I don't plan on being patient tonight, so unless you want me to take you right here, right now..."

Before Joel could finish his sentence, you heard footsteps begin to descend the stairs. Joel immediately released your face and turned towards the staircase. You stood up, your heart beginning to pound wildly in your chest as rushes of adrenaline and arousal rushed through you. Joel stood up as well, taking a deep breath and attempting to steady himself. He glanced at you, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. You bit your lip, staring nervously back at him,

The footsteps grew louder as Sarah descended the stairs, and it felt like time slowed as you both waited for her to make it down. She looked at the two of you suspiciously. "Uh, hey. Was just gonna watch a movie." she pointed to the couch where you and Joel had been sitting.

"Well, I think I'm gonna turn in early. I'm feeling a little tired. Enjoy your movie." You said, before heading upstairs. Joel's gaze watched your figure retreat up the steps, and he turned back to Sarah. "I got some paperwork to catch back up on. Enjoy your movie kiddo." He walked past Sarah and headed upstairs.

He was going to go to his room but something made him want to check in on you. So Joel approached your door and let it creak open slightly. To his dismay, you weren't there. Probably in the bathroom, he thought.

So he headed back down the hall to his room, and when he opened the door, there you were, on his bed.

Joel's jaw dropped slightly when his eyes connected with yours. He could barely focus on anything other than you, how you were lying, how you were breathing, how your hair looked, and how perfect your body was. Joel slowly closed the door after him and took a couple of slow steps toward you. You laid perfectly still, watching him with wide doe eyes - the ones of a tease, a brat who needed a real man to take control of her...and Joel was gonna deliver.

Joel made a quick glance to his door, before turning back to you. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Nah, I just thought you deserved a little surprise." You teased, while letting your hand run delicately down your body and under the band of your shorts. Joel was done with your games, your teasing. He was about to fuck you like you had never been fucked before. The look in your eyes was almost as arousing as the way your hand worked its way down your body.

You were giving him a look that screamed submission. It said you would do whatever he said if he only commanded it of you. So he leaned down, grabbing a chunk of your hair roughly in his hand, forcing your head upwards, causing you to gasp in surprise and arousal.

"You do exactly what daddy says, and I'll treat'ya real good baby." Joel, as if on cue, reached his other hand underneath your shorts. His fingers found their way to your pussy, lightly caressing you through the fabric of your panties. You couldn't help whimpering and moaning. Joel began massaging more intensely, increasing your pleasure with each second. It was all too much, and Joel was enjoying every second of it. Your moans became higher pitched and more desperate as he continued, "Daddy please."

When the words "Daddy please" came from your sweet lips, Joel couldn't help but smile. A rush of heat landed in his abdomen, and he knew he had to take control of the situation.

He took his hands off of you and backed away from the bed completely. He sat in the chair in the corner and slowly undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor. "Come on, be daddy's good girl and get undressed."

As he sat there waiting, he continued to unbutton his pants and release the zipper. He never took his eyes off you as he let his cock free from the confines of all material. You couldn't help but whimper a little at the sight.

"Come on now, nice and slow baby, give daddy something nice to watch." He motioned for you to start undressing.

You stood from the bed and started with your top, ever so slowly lifting it over your head and letting it land beside you. As soon as your top hit the floor and your breasts were exposed, Joel let out a pleasurable groan.

You walked closer to Joel and grasped the waistband of your shorts. As soon as your tank top fell, and you walked toward him, you felt Joel place his hands on your wrist. "Let daddy help you."

With your wrist still in his hand, he led you to the chair he just got out of. "Bend over," he ordered. Joel pulled the chair closer, so he could reach your ass. You let out a shaky breath as he knelt behind you.

He slowly removed your shorts and panties, taking his time to admire every square inch of skin that came through. Finally, the materials were down your ankles and hitting the floor. Joel let out a deep primal moan, almost a groan at the sight, at the perfect globes sitting inches from his face.

When the words "Daddy please" came from your sweet lips, Joel couldn't help but smile. A rush of heat landed in his abdomen, and he knew he had to take control of the situation.

"Come on now, nice and slow baby, give daddy something nice to watch." He motioned for you to start undressing.

You stood up from the bed, your heart pounding in your chest as you slowly lifted your top over your head, letting it fall to the floor beside you. As soon as your top hit the floor and your breasts were exposed, Joel let out a low groan of pleasure.

You walked closer to him, your legs feeling like jelly as you grasped the waistband of your shorts. As you began to slide them down, you felt Joel's hands on your wrist. "Let daddy help you," he said, his voice deep and husky.

With your wrist still in his hand, he led you to the chair he had just been sitting in. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You did as you were told, bending over the chair and exposing your ass to him. Joel pulled the chair closer, so he could reach you better, and you let out a shaky breath as you felt him kneel behind you.

He slowly removed your shorts and panties, taking his time to admire every inch of your skin that came into view. Finally, the materials were down your ankles and hitting the floor. Joel let out a deep primal moan, almost a groan at the sight of your perfect ass sitting inches from his face.

You weren't sure what you expected when you came into Joel's room, but here you were, face down, ass up on his bed. When Joel's large hands found their way onto the curves of your ass, squeezing tightly, you couldn't help but let out a gasp and whine.

You lifted your hips slightly, trying to relieve the ache forming between your legs. You could feel Joel's warm breath against your inner thighs as he teased you, inching upward to your clit.

Ever so lightly, he swiped his tongue over your clit, and the feeling sent waves of shivers shooting down your spine. You began to buck your hips up against his lips, trying to encourage him to continue. But Joel stopped suddenly and moved up, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

"Now let's see your pretty little mouth get to work, hmm?" he growled huskily into your ear.

You whimpered, not sure how to answer, too much in a lust overload, unable to speak or even process any coherent thoughts. Joel could tell you were caught up in the moment, gently guiding you to your knees so you were facing him.

"Come here," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

Without hesitation, you crawled forward, positioning yourself between Joel's legs as he sat back on the chair. You placed your hands on his thighs as he guided you to kneel before him.

Once you were positioned, Joel bent forward, his hands reaching out to tangle in your hair. He guided your head down towards his lap, and you couldn't help but moan at the sight of his hard length in front of you.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety smoothness of his skin over the steel hardness beneath. Joel hissed in pleasure as you began to stroke him, your hand moving up and down his length.

"Open your mouth," Joel commanded, his voice low and husky.

You obeyed, parting your lips and letting him guide himself inside. You could feel him hit the back of your throat, and you struggled to suppress your gag reflex as he began to move in and out of your mouth.

Joel's hands tightened in your hair, pulling slightly as he thrust deeper. You could feel him hitting the back of your throat, and you tried your best to relax and take him in.

You could feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as you sucked him, your hand still moving in time with your mouth. The feeling of him in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue, it was all so intoxicating. But before you could take him over the edge, Joel's lips met yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue parting your lips and exploring every inch of your mouth. It was a kiss full of passion and desire, a kiss that made your head spin and your heart race.

His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You moaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples until they were hard and aching for more. Joel broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. You gasped as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring every inch of your body until you were trembling with need. You couldn't help but whimper as his lips found your nipples, his tongue swirling around them before he sucked them into his mouth. Joel's hands travelled lower, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. You could feel his hard length pressed against you, and you couldn't help but grind against him.

"Please, Joel," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Joel's eyes darkened as he looked at you, his voice low and commanding. "Beg for it. Beg for what you want baby."

You whimpered, your mind hazy with lust as you tried to find the words. "Please, Joel. I need you. I need you inside me." His plan to have you please him orally was quickly forgotten as his overwhelming desire for you took over, he needed to have you. Now. Joel stood up, pulling you to your feet. Joel's grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you to your feet, his eyes blazing with desire. "You want me inside you, baby?" he growled, his voice full of raw need.

"Yes daddy," you whimpered, your body trembling with desire.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're such a good girl, begging for what you want. Say it again.”

"Want you inside me, Joel. Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's hands travelled down your body, cupping your ass and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your core pressing against his hard length. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, please, Joel. I need you," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Joel walked over to the bed, laying you down on your back. He hovered over you, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly entered you. You gasped as he filled you, your body stretching to accommodate him.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," Joel murmured, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued to thrust into you. "So tight, so perfect."

"Yes, Daddy," you moaned, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. "You feel so good inside me."

"Beg for it, baby," Joel commanded, his voice low and dominating. "Beg daddy to make you come."

"Please, Daddy," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "I need to come. Need you to make me come."

Joel's thrusts became harder, faster, his pace matching the desperation in your voice. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tense with pleasure.

"Come for me, baby," Joel growled, his voice commanding. "Come for Daddy now."

With one final thrust, you came, your body convulsing with pleasure as you tried to stay quiet.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "You're such a good girl, coming for Daddy like that."

Joel pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. But before you could protest, he flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

"Daddy's going to take you from behind now," he growled, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.

You couldn't help but moan at the sting, your body tensing with anticipation. Joel positioned himself behind you, his hard length pressing against your entrance.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, Daddy," you whimpered, your body trembling with need.

With one swift thrust, Joel was inside of you, filling you completely. You couldn't help the way your body trembled with pleasure.

Joel's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to thrust into you. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, your moans and whimpers filling the room.

"You like that, baby?" Joel asked, his voice full of raw need.

"Yes, Daddy. It feels so good," you gasped, your body begging for more.

Joel's thrusts became harder, faster, his pace matching the desperation in your voice. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tense with pleasure.

"Come for me again, baby," Joel commanded, his voice low and dominating. "I want to feel you come apart around me." Joel's fingers dug into your hips as he continued to thrust into you, each movement causing you to moan and whimper with pleasure. He could feel your body tensing up once again, your walls clenching around him as you got closer and closer to another orgasm.

"That's it, baby. I want to feel you milking my cock with your tight little pussy," Joel growled, his voice full of raw need and desire.

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure as you screamed out Joel's name into your own hands, to try to keep quiet. You felt him pulse inside of you, his warm release filling you up as he reached his own climax.

Joel collapsed onto your back, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he caught his breath.

"Fuck, baby. You’re such a good girl aren't cha?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You couldn't help but smile, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

Joel slowly pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting once again. But before you could protest, he turned you over onto your back and climbed on top of you.

"I'm not done with you yet, baby," he growled, his eyes blazing with desire.

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands roamed your body. He trailed his lips down your neck, across your collarbone, and down to your breasts.

He sucked one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before moving onto the next. You couldn't help but moan, your body responding to his touch once again.

Joel's hand travelled lower, his fingers finding their way to your clit. He began to rub slow circles around it, causing you to gasp and writhe beneath him.

"Please, Joel. I need more," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

Joel's fingers dipped inside of you, curling up to hit that perfect spot. He began to thrust them in and out of you, his pace matching the urgency in your voice.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, your body tensing up as you reached the edge.

"Come on darlin’ I want to feel you come all over my fingers," Joel commanded, his voice dominating.

With one final thrust of his fingers, you shattered and your body convulsed in the same motions it had the last two or three, or - you had lost count at this point.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. You couldn't help but watch him, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

"Mmmm, you taste so fucking good, baby," Joel murmured, his eyes blazing with desire.

He collapsed onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"I think I'm gonna keep ya around," Joel chuckled.

You couldn't help but smile, your body still trembling with pleasure. "I think I'm gonna let you," you whispered back.

You weren't sure what the future held for the two of you, but in that moment, you were happy. You closed your eyes as you snuggled closer to Joel, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

Thank you for reading. Take a second to let me know what you thot and I'll send you pictures of my baby cows 🐮🥹

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #daddy!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal

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whoistartaglia · 1 month

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love letters

how genshin men write you love letters

a/n: i’m alive!

neuvillette’s love letter is meticulously written and the closest thing to perfection found in this corporal realm. his calligraphy is neat as are his words; he spends little time with the flowery words and sweet nothings, and gets immediately to the point: confessing his love to you. he’s hinted at it, and you’ve reciprocated back, and neuvillette wanted to cement his confession with ink and paper. the only crinkle of imperfection that mares the otherwise unworldly beautiful letter is a touch of shakiness to the last sentence, the only question in the entire letter. asking you if you might feel the same.

childe’s love letter had to be written several times, and even the final version has some crossed out words, and arrows leading across the page, pointing to where he picked back up. the words themselves are sweet if not a little chaotically inclined (as is he; his nature showing right through the words on the parchment). it’s not so much as a confession than simply proclaiming his love for you, given to when you’re already in a relationship. (if you should ask why there are so many mistakes, he’ll tell you the truth: putting his love for you in mere words is a difficult feat.)

scaramouche’s love letter is a mess of words and a rage of emotions. it was never meant to be send to you, and he only showed you late in your relationship, when he felt comfortable enough to let you in. he started it as a way to express his emotions and their twisting and churning, whenever it came to you. scaramouche couldn’t understand them at first, and to an extent, he still is unable to fully quantify the emotions he feels towards you. but the words on the page, the half sentences and fragmented clauses, paint enough of a picture, and the love he shows you already is enough to fill in the gaps.

diluc’s love letter is impossible for him to write. it’s awful, it’s terrible, and every word is wrong—not that there are many words to begin with. diluc never thought himself to be an overthinker, but writing this love letter is proving that original notion wrong. every sentence he crafts in his mind sounds wrong when said aloud and he has worries they will look even worse on paper. so he leaves the few sentences he has alone, few soldiers on the battlefield, and decides to give you the letter anyways, hoping that you’ll still reciprocate what’s on the page, even if it isn’t much, even if he wants to tell you much more, but for some reason, cannot.

zhongli’s love letter is painfully gorgeous, even if the words sting and feel like a thorn to the heart. how he can turn a breakup letter into something so beautiful sounding is beyond you; you wish he would just get the point, that it’s not working out, that it’s over, without all the purple prose. reading it over and over again, you get the feeling that he was delaying telling you, even through writing. that he didn’t want to tell you it’s over using plain, cold words, but wanted to tell you with words that exude the last rays of sunshine and a breeze before dark. (it hurts all the same. more, even.)

alhaitham’s love letter was as unexpected for you recieve as it was for him to write, because you thought being with him was an impossibility, a maybe of the past that never came true. but then he handed it to you before he left, giving to you words he could never quite that time ago and still can’t quite bring himself to say now. but the letter, carefully crafted and laced with vulnerability and a tenderness only ever glimpsed from him once or twice, express what he cannot. what you do now with this newfound information is up to you: take a chance on something you thought died, or leave it alone, maybe without hope of a reprisal this time.

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luv-gukkie · 3 days

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★ little, naive thing ★

pairing: yandere! jeon jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: a small cuddle takes jungkook back down memory lane; a time where he could only admire your pretty-self from afar with a burning need to make you his, an idea your little boyfriend wasn’t so fond of.

word count: +4.8k

tags/warnings: cockwarming, boobie kisses, dom! jungkook, sub!reader, jungkook worships reader, he switches up real fast, size difference, smooches here and there, jungkook manhandles reader, he's possessive, degrading comments, public sex? (don't worry? no one catches them), jungkook gets into a fight, he hurts himself, manipulation, jk lies, talk about marriage ;), degrading comments, jungkook gets a tattoo of..., unprotected sex (don't be silly), reader was his first (for EVERYTHING), he's in love LOVE

notes: hope you enjoy it! i’ll try to post the small writing about yoongi soon :)

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

"no, no, no, no!" jungkook yells with a small smile as his hands covered his face, acting as if he was sad. you sing out a little chant, sticking your tongue out at him. he can't help but hide his laugh at your taunts and the small dance you do behind his hands. you're so cute, jungkook thinks as he stares at you through the gap between his fingers. the playback of your pink character, cat peach, flashes through the television screen as it shows her first through the finish line seconds before tanooki mario, jungkook's character, crosses through it as well. he groans in pain, "i was so close." he can't believe how good you've gotten at mario kart 8. it's unbelievable how fast you've learned. "wanna know my secret?" you whisper softly as if there were people around you; even though both of you are alone in your shared apartment, with the only witnesses being bam, the big and strong doberman, and cinnabon, your cute, tiny bunny. the pair lay together (similar to jungkook and you) on bam's huge bed, cuddled into each other, hiding behind their floppy ears. with the same mischievous tone, jungkook whispers back, "i have to know." you smile before leaning in closer to his ear and before he knows it, he's backing away, tricked and played. jungkook covers his ear, recovering from your surprise shriek. you giggle at his reaction before going in to leave kisses on his face all around. "sorry", you giggle as he "tries" to get away from you, but it's impossible because you two sit together squished on a bean bag.

as he sees you laugh, memories with you flash through his mind. it takes him back to the start of his love to you; all the way in high school.

jungkook has never been social to begin with. he's always been a little timid and shy compared to others, but it didn't meant he couldn't experience the same things others his age were experiencing. puberty had hit him hard. jungkook had grown too fast over the heat of summer. his voice was no longer of a teenage boy, but one of a grown man. the change into manhood had girls confessing their admiration to him left and right, but he's never been too interested in starting a relationship in the first place. it's not until he landed his eyes onto dainty, little you.

jungkook remembers it was the first day of sophomore year, the summer had tanned him a bit from being a life guard at the public pool and he had grown his muscles. jungkook's eyes wandered around the new classroom, recognizing everyone's faces, but stammering at an almost unrecognizable face. the reddish lipgloss you wear shines on your plump lips, a slight blush on your cheeks and your eyelashes have darkened with mascara. it's clear that he's not the only one who's changed over the summer. your hair is styled perfectly with a nice hairstyle that makes it even cuter. but it's the glimmer in your eyes that attract him the most especially with that faint, flirtatious smile you put on as you smile at the boy who holds your hand. the realization hits jungkook, why the fuck are you holding that boy's hands? that boy probably didn't even know you existed last year so why were you giving him such a lovely look? he thinks he's been staring too long when the guy turns around to glare at him and sticks his middle finger out when you turn around to talk to your friend.

shit.

it would've been a whatever to jungkook, but now, he keeps seeing you everywhere since he's noticed you. and it's not fair that your fucking boyfriend follows you everywhere you go, always in your shadow and never not. and it's like your boyfriend feels notices the glances he throws at you and sends him nasty glares whenever he gets the chance. jungkook fucking hates his ass. hates how he's gotten obsessive over you when he barely knows you; when you don't even know him. he doesn't like the feeling really, but he can't ignore it either so he does everything he can to get the little lovebirds to separate for his sake. eventually a small little rumor breaks things apart and he can't help the little smile that breaks free when the gossip he started reaches his ears. its times like this when jungkook is thankful to the loudmouths his classmates have. and it's like the heavens heard of his prayers when in no time, he had you in his grasp for life.

you don't even find out about jungkook being hurt until your lunch time. the whispers of jungkook's name are loud and seem true enough that you dash out when you hear a short version of the story. you're over the top worried for jungkook. your heart hurts, your eyes are blurring up and sweat is building up on your forehead as you get nearer to the nurse's office. when you find him sitting with a bandages across his arms and hand, fists bloodied and his nose still slightly dripping with blood. and even as the dark bruises are hurting him, red running down his nose and his arms onto the once white bandages, he runs to you with a call of your name and a helpless expression on his face. you let out a painful sob at his delicate form, "jungkookie, this is all my fault. i'm so sorry, you shouldn't be like this." jungkook doesn't deny your claims, tearing into your neck as his arms hug your waist in a tight embrace. you promise to take care of him and you do by spending every single second next to him, making sure he's not hurting. not noticing the sly smile he had on each time you turned around because of how his dumb little girlfriend didn't realize the blood on him wasn't his, but of your ex-boyfriend.

you ignore your ex. can't stand thinking about that stupid idiot, much less seeing him so you make a clear decision to avoid him or anything that has to do with him. sharing your decision with your friends so that they don't even speak of his existence. your blood boils at the fact that he dared to throw insults and then hurt jungkook, provoking you further. unbeknownst to you, your ex-boyfriend was stuck spending his time in the hospital. so it comes to your surprise when you do see him, his arm is in a cast along with his nose covered in white with bruises surrounding it. he's practically limping with each step he takes. when you two make eye contact, your eyes fidget to your phone to tried to avoid him. ignorance that's made harder when he decides to call after you. you're firm as you continue walking but turn around soon after, when you hear the crutches hitting the floor behind each step you take. he whispers about how you should leave jungkook; that there's something wrong with him. but the annoyed look you give him tells him you won't. "leave me alone," is the only thing you utter and before you know it, he's taking your hand as your about to leave and leaning in closer. "___, he's fucking crazy." the terrified look in his eyes is more than enough to scare you, but you're distracted when your eyes spot jungkook's pained ones.

you don’t hesitate to run after jungkook, leaving your ex behind in a hopeless state. you're not able to catch up, but following the sound of his footsteps is good enough to lead you to the back of the school. "jungkook?" you shout for him, wondering where he was. "why are you fucking talking to him?" his harsh tone has you in a ruined state in no time. jungkook has never talked to you in such a way, your mind tells you it's all your fault he's like this. you go to hug him, but all he does is move back and you notice that the tears in his eyes are gone.

jungkook doesn't like what he saw at all. all your words are nothing to him right now; all he feels is anger and jealousy in him. "talking to that piece of shit after he talked bad about you, after he fucking attacked me." he gulps before continuing with a lower tone, "baby, is there absolutely nothing in that pretty little head of yours? you let him hold your hand even after everything. you let him touch what doesn't belong to him." you're crying at this point, telling jungkook that it meant nothing and you only have eyes for him. it's in that moment a light bulb goes on in his head; he's got you right where he wants you. "prove it." his demand confuses you, a small "how?" leaves your lips. you follow his gaze before realizing what he wanted. "will you forgive me?" you question, the hope evident in your mellow tone. "of course, baby." you're about to get down on your knees before he stops you, "nuh uh, pretty," his fingers playing around with the necklace he gave you, "it's something else that i want. c'mon you got this, put two and two together." a mocking tone as he talks to you in a childlike manner. it's in that moment that you realize where both of you still are: school. you don't know how the information left your head, but you shake your head at jungkook. "we're still at school kook, anyone could see us and we could get in trouble." you speak softly, hoping he agrees with you. your palms feel sweaty at his request. it's like a switch-up when he stays quiet for a while, different to how he acted minutes ago but you don't notice. you watch as his bandaged hand tugs a couple of hairs behind your ear.

jungkook wipes his nose with the same bandaged fist that's covered in blood and his bangs slightly reveal the dark purple bruise on his forehead. "please." he begs with a soft voice and with his pretty eyes, you're convinced enough. you just can't deny him, especially after he fought for you; because of you. jungkook got hurt to protect you from that idiot you once called your boyfriend, and you can't help but blame yourself for it. jungkook ruined his reputation for a stupid fight. it's all your fault, so you let him get closer to you. you let him back you up into the hidden corner outside of the school. you wrap your small hands around his neck and let him kiss you. jungkook pushes you into him, his tongue is quick to explore your own. his saliva drips onto your lips and leaves it all messy. his fingers go to unbutton your white button shirt, undoing the blue collar. "you're so pretty, ___." he whines as he licks up your neck in a hurry and sucks it with need until pinkish skin is shown and teeth marks are left. it doesn't help him that the school uniform looks so good on you. the thigh high blue socks the schools requires only feeds on to his desires. and to top it off, you have to wear a blue (mini-looking) skirt with the basically transparent button shirt. and he can't forget the little decorations that you add on, which only fuels his fantasy to have you under him. a little red bow you add on to your hair and the jewelry you add on to your wrist and neck. especially the one that's wrapped around your neck, a sparkling j in the center.

a clear memory goes through jungkook when he raises the skirt he loves on you because it's not the first time he's gotten a peak at what you hide under that skirt; he's seen it multiple times, even before you two started going out but you don't have to know that. he knows he shouldn't have looked, but you wouldn't have minded. would you? either way, he couldn't help it. jungkook's eyes wandered when he was around you. he would ignore the arm that wrapped around your waist (the douche bag you called your boyfriend) and stare hard as fantasies played in his head. he loves the way your tits are so tight in that stupid shirt. he knows he's a pervert for gawking so hard at your ass when you walk pass him, or sometimes taking a peek at what hides underneath. but, he also wished that it was him that was hugging you and kissing you. it would be his dream come true. and maybe, it was just his luck when he saw your panties as you tripped on some rubbish on the ground. thinking that no one was around, you stayed on the ground for a while; whimpering in pain, knees scraped and legs apart, giving jungkook the perfect view of your covered pussy. you didn't wear shorts underneath your skirt, it's like you wanted him to see you in such an intimate way. he swore he felt drool falling out of the corners of his mouth at the sight. he couldn't stop staring (and definitely couldn't forget) at how your body was spread apart on the ground. jungkook doesn't remember how long he stood there before coming to help you, meanwhile trying to hide the hard-on that was growing in frustration. jungkook definitely had luck on his side that day, because soon after, both of you would start to hang out more. it was enough time to indulge your mind and heart.

when you both started dating, you both sat next to each other in almost all your classes. you let his hands play with the trim of your skirt and caress your upper thigh whenever he wanted. ignoring how each time his fingers inched closer to your panties. you were so nice to him. whenever you bent over the slightest, your skirt was basically hanging off your hips, revealing your cute little panties. and now he gets to see them all over again. "shit," he groans at the ache in his cock. you were so enticing with your white panties and the little bow right on the center that he'll never get tired of. but jungkook's too desperate, so he is quick to tug down the flimsy material. quickly choosing to hide it away in his pockets. breath stuttering at your bare, wet cunt. "___, you're so fucking pretty." his finger slides against your slit, immediately getting soaked. his thumb is quick to follow towards your clit, pinching and teasing it until he hears you start to whimper. he turns to you around to place a messy kiss on your lips, tongue dipping in to touch your own as he takes off his pants desperately. his cock is bulging and has left a mess in his boxers, but he pushes it down.

a sigh leaves his lips when his cock stands straight, hitting his abdomen. you don't even get a look before he turns you again and bends you against the brick wall. you feel your heart pound in your chest. "kookie, anyone could find us," you stutter out, a small glob escaping your gaping hole. 'cute', is all he thinks before pressing his hot cock head against your cunt. "shit baby, i have to bend my knees to reach you," he snickers out loud. he can't help the grin that escapes him out of the realization; you're so small compared to him. his shadow completely covers you under him, his hands are huge compared to yours and he can carry you like you're nothing. he's about to press in when you ask if he has a condom. it makes jungkook remember his trip to the pharmacy days before, staring at the pack of condoms he was going to take as he left the store. it brings back the sick pleasure he had then, the need to fuck you raw and full of him. he stands back to his full stature as he softly whispers an apology that he didn't have a single one. he feels slightly angered at the silence you give him, but you wouldn't know because you face the other way. "s' okay kookie i guess." he taunts you in his head, annoyed that you had him standing with a hard cock like an idiot just to ask him for stupid things.

it's already a painful feeling as he pumps his cock. the slit on his tip has precum dribble out. so in return he chooses not to bend down to your height. his hands grip harder onto your hips, the pressure causing you to fuss and arch your back in response. a shriek of his name and a desperate attempt to hold onto the wall distracts you as he lifts you up to the height of his hips by wrapping one arm around your stomach. his other hand directs his drooling cock head into your pussy. as he forces his dick in, your mouth widens as a silent moan escapes you. the tip of his cock is thick and hot. you can hear him pant heavily, calling you sweet names as he watches with heavy eyes as he keeps pushing in until his hips meet your own and the tip shoves right up against your womb.

you can feel tears in your eyes at the way his fat cock is nestled deep inside your cunt. the veins that run down him are perfect and his length excites you. jungkook curses silently as he sees his cock getting drenched off the globs of your slimy slick. he's speechless on how good your pussy feels, surprised he's not busting a nut so far. all he knows is that he'd get on his knees over and over to get just a look at your cunt. it doesn't help that you're practically hanging off his cock, back bending so beautifully to reach him, while your tits are begging to spill out your half-opened shirt. it makes him smug knowing that you could fall if he simply let go of your hips. your legs are dangling mid-air as he fucks you deep and slow for the couple first thrusts before completely switching into a different pace. he feels heavy inside your cunt. all you can think about is him, each time jungkook rams his cock head directly into your sweet spot.

your tiny mouth lets out the dirtiest sultry noises he's ever heard. you sob about how his cock is too big. "kookie," you wail as his cock easily pokes and pushes against your sweet spot and cervix at the same time. you feel the heat from his angry tip that oozes out more chunks of precum, reminding you that he isn't wearing a condom. but you're left dumb with your eyes rolled back when his fingers tease your bud in a hurried pace. jungkook feels your walls squeeze tight on him and it causes a throaty groan to leave his lips. "wet my cock, my pretty baby" he mutters. you shake as jungkook continues stretching your pussy hole out. and with an airless moan, you squirt your juices on his abdomen and the base of his cock. his eyes fill with curiosity at the wetness he feels leak all down his cock and thighs. "s-so perfect for me. little hole gonna be gaping when i leave it. gonna stuff you full of me, isn't that want you want? my little dumb girlfriend wants me to fill her with my cum." jungkook can't help but moan at how your pussy swallows him whole, accepting every inch of him in your hot walls even if he's bigger than you can handle. "gonna be my cock sleeve, perfect for it. wet, little cunt s' clenching around me like a bitch in heat."

he feels the heat crawl up to his face, and it doesn't help that the sweat on his forehead makes his hair stick to his face. he smells your perfume as it begins to stick on him and he fucking loves it. loves that he can grab a full fist of your hair and the only thing you'll do is cry out his name and wet his cock over and over as he goes faster. jungkook leans down to place sloppy kisses down your back, nearing your ear to whisper dirty words that have your cunt clenching tighter around him. the moans you let loose are loud and messy, forgetting your still in school. "people should see how good my baby takes cock, can't compare with no one else, right?" a question you don't answer, or can barely make out with how loud your ass smacks against him. "pussy so filthy and tight, ready to take my cock at anytime and anywhere." you're about to release all over again when jungkook stops to slowly pull back his hips. you whine in frustration, but soon forget when he drags his cock back into your cunt, making sure you feel each vein and curve.

the breathy whines you let out almost drown out the lewd squelches of the bottom of his shaft meeting your bare pussy. jungkook can't hold back the huff, "oh, fuck yes. cute cunt leaking just for me, sucking me right back in," his jaw clenches at how wet you are. each time he sank further, his pace began to pick up with an impatient desire to fuck you harder. "my good girlfriend, s' pretty when she's desperate for cock, my cock." he says mockingly.

"i'm gonna cum," you gasp out with each word. jungkook's fingers make their way to your lips, passing them to reach your tongue. "me too," is all he says before pulling out once more to turn you around and place you right back on his cock. "you look s' fucked out, baby," he whispers with a smug smile on his face, "pussy gonna be nice and stuffed with my cum, yeah?" he's quick to connect your lips together as you squirt from the overstimulation, hiding his desperate groans. you feel his cock spill warm loads of his cum inside you. small curses coming out of his mouth as he continues to runt against you, slobs of cum still leaking into you. you moan at the globs of cum slide down your inner thighs and onto the ground. his voice is soft when he talks to you and carefully holds you onto him. "you're so good to me; my good girlfriend, yeah?" he ignores the way you trace his dark bruises and brushes your hair out. he'll never let that stupid fuck get close to you again. it's not that he's scared of him, but rather of what nonsense he's gonna say. it's best if you don't know that jungkook started the fight, that he went home and hurt himself to make the bruises etched into his skin; smacking his head against the wall until he bled and couldn't think of anything but you and slammed one of his dad's metal tools against his hands to have you next to him, cause jungkook would really do anything for you.

"jungkook, what are you thinking about?" your voice breaks him out of train of thought, "about us." he responds without hesitation, because really, when is he not. his hands rub your waist, slowly taking you onto his lap. you smile at him and it's like he's in love all over again with you. and he hopes you feel the same as he takes his left hand into yours, "i want us to be together forever, ___." you watch the way his doe eyes show you all the love he has for you. you're lucky you've always had jungkook be this affectionate. he's always willing to take you out to a restaurant on late nights, picnics almost every week during the summer, and it's always refreshing to be with him. never once has he failed you, so you can't help the heart-warming feeling in you right now, watching a smile break through his face when you agree with him. "i've loved you from the very start, and i can't wait until we start a new chapter together," he pauses for a while, holding you tighter against his chest, "and you know that i've always wanted to put a ring on your finger, and if you're ready, i'll be more than happy to give you any ring you want." your lips find their way to his as you kiss him with everything you have, "i love you jungkook."

he doesn't even have a chance to respond before you're kissing him again, because you know that he does love you. it's in his eyes; his smile; in everything he does. you're shown love through every gesture he does, like the tattoo he surprised you with last week. big, pretty letters that are deeply inked into the skin of his chest for eternity. these pretty letters that make your name and are surrounded by the soft-feathered wings of beautiful angels. his tattooed hands dig into your hips, angling you on top of his hardened cock. his hand grabbing your jaw, squishing your cheeks and lips as you move your loose shorts to the side. with a harsh tug, jungkook's sweatpants end up at his knees. there's a big pearl of precum on his head, slightly leaking down his base. at the sight, you feel your cunt pulse. jungkook's hands massage your ass as he makes his way back up to unclip your bra. jungkook pumps his cock with your hands, cooing at how small they are. he pushes himself inside your swollen cunt, and it's hard to control himself when your tiny cunt violently clamps around his thick base, taking all of him in. you're moaning desperately into his ear distracting him from your painted nails leaving deep red marks on his abdomen. his lips wrap themselves around you tits, leaving trails of saliva behind before kissing the spots.

"faster, kookie," you cry out as you feel your orgasm at the pit of your stomach. your ass repeatedly meets his pelvis with a burning pain. you're begging for release when his thumb plays with your nub and his mouth is sucking your tits. "little hole dripping all around me, ain't that right baby," a shaky gasp he lets out while his cock makes you reach your high. tears roll down your cheeks at the overstimulation when he grinds himself into your sopping cunt. "gonna make a mess in this pussy," he groans before shoving his warm load deep inside your sore cunt. a little gasp escapes your mouth at how stuffed your tummy is.

just as your hands begin to slide off his shoulders, ready to fix yourself up, jungkook pulls you in close enough that your chest is touching his. you can't even speak when he begins to softly pound into your spent pussy which has you whimpering. there's a cocky grin on his face that you want to wipe off, but it's hard when your oversensitivity makes you weak. with a faint call of his name, jungkook finally halts his sensual motions with a replaced giddy smile, "i love having you in my arms."

as the minutes past, he takes note of your sleepy head dozing off into his neck. jungkook envelopes you into a cozy cuddle as he watches the blarring tv whilst his racing mind drags on with repeated memories of the past; haunting reminders that should never be brought up. he digs his head into your hair, fingers gently kneading into your scalp making his beating heart calm its pace. everything he's done was for you. the thing is jungkook can't limit himself when he's around you. it's a suffocating feeling that indulges every ounce of his body. it fills him with a need to protect you, and it makes him go mad in the head sometimes. it causes him to commit foolish acts of violence against those who he thinks have a role in your life. though, he's gotten better with the persistent idea of becoming a better man for you; a better future husband; a better future father. jungkook's lips turn up at the ends at the sleepy noises you make. "i love you."

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eternalguk · 2 months

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Losers || jjk. (M)

I get lonely when you're not here, and this darkness appears, leaving me stranded.

↠ Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jeongguk. Your brother's best friend, your mom's favourite human, and the man who is saved as, the certified asshole, on your phone. With black hair and piercings, tattoos and skinny jeans… Jeongguk has been your worst nightmare since you were 18. Six years later, getting along with him is still impossible. The only difference? His pastime then was to steal your diary and read it aloud. Now? Well… let’s just say, it’s most definitely not the same.

↠ Genre : pwp, brothers best friend au, age gap au, fuck buddies au (angst, fluff & smut)

↠ Warnings : explicit sexual content, swearing, bickering but they’re actually flirting, teasing (a lot of it), making out, grinding, dirty talk, degradation, breast play, unprotected sex (be safe), kinda dom!jungkook, power bottom!jungkook, riding, begging, creampie, mentions of oral sex, mentions of one-sided feelings and i think that’s all.

↠ Word count : 1.6k

↠ A/n : hello <3 here’s a little something that i put together when I was bored! I hope you enjoy brothers best friend!Jungkook as much as I did whilst writing. Your feedback will be appreciated 🤍. Happy reading 🦢

↠ Song : meddle about - Chase Atlantic.

You’re full. So damn full.

Jungkook’s thick and imposing cock is nestled inside you, the delicious stretch causing both of you to unleash the most desperate sounds.

“Ride me,” Jungkook’s voice is husky, and very evidently quivering with lust and need.

You gulp, licking your swollen lips before lifting yourself up and lowering yourself inch by inch, until he’s all the way inside again. The pressure between your legs is unbearable, body craving relief.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers boring into your hips. “So greedy for my dick.”

And the taunting is back…

You roll your eyes, lifting yourself up again and slamming down so hard that you both groan. “And who was begging me to ride their dick?”

Jungkook whispers a string of curses, before thrusting himself upwards. “A-and who… who was begging me to have sex with them in the first place?”

You.

The answer was you, and you couldn’t even try to defend yourself.

Your brother had finally left the house, and in other words, you and Jungkook were finally able to fuck.

So here you were, in the living room, relentlessly riding your brother’s best friend.

Now, you weren’t that bad. Yes, you had made the first move, but Jungkook was no innocent bystander. Your thoughts linger back to where the shenanigans began.

“Hey princess,” Jungkook smirks as he saunters into the living room, interrupting your peaceful evening. “Missed me?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at the sight of him. “Not even a little bit, asshole.”

“Stop lying,” he sings as he reaches over to take a chocolate covered strawberry from your plate. “I know you did.”

You remain silent, hoping he gets the cue and leaves. You don’t forget to mentally curse your brother for leaving you with this man-child.

Jungkook chuckles and you already sense a foolish comment about to leave his lips. “I know you love me, Y/N.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “In your dreams, Jungkook. Your dick? Maybe. You? Never.”

He moves to take a seat on the couch adjacent to you, his gaze lingering a little too long. “You look cute when you're angry.”

You flush, hating how easily he gets under your skin. “Shut up, let me read.”

But instead of retorting, Jungkook leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Make me.”

You swallow hard, feeling a rush of heat between your thighs. "You wish."

His lips quirk into a smirk as he leans back, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe I do.”

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to kiss him. Why did he have to be so damn infuriatingly attractive?

As the evening wears on, your banter escalated into a full-blown war of words, each insult laced with underlying tension. But beneath the surface, there's something else brewing—a desire that neither of you wants to acknowledge.

The three previous altercations between you and Jungkook had led to sex… there’s no way you were going to let that happen again.

“I’ll just go keep myself busy with Areum. You know your really pretty friend? She’s been begging me to come over.” Jungkook grins mischievously, knowing he's finally pushed you to your limit.

But instead of storming off in a huff like usual, you surprise him by closing the distance between you, lips crashing against his in a heated kiss.

He responds eagerly, his hands tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, your bodies pressed together in a frenzy of need.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

You smirk, trailing my fingers down his chest. “You love it.”

He groans, his grip tightening on you as he whispers, “I’d be a liar if I said no.”

And that was what had brought you to your current state. You begin to ride Jungkook in a fast, unrestrained pace, leaning forward so your clit can brush against his pubic bone, deepening your own pleasure.

“So big, Jungkook.. So deep,” you moan gratifyingly, throwing your head back as you relish in this complete heaven.

Jungkook smirks whilst watching you fuck yourself on his cock, pleasure vividly overtaking you as you roll your eyes with each bounce. “Good girl, ride my cock just like that.”

“J-Jungkook,” you whine faintly, his hands forcing you down completely and making you go faster. His low grunts and growls of your name make you warm up more, adoring the pleasurable sounds he makes. Your eyes meet his and you heat up as he gazes at you with lust stained eyes.

“Feels good?” Jungkook asks, helping you bounce on his dick. He looks extremely sexy right now with swollen lips, tanned skin and messy, tousled hair.

The sound of heavy breathing and the way his cock easily slides in and out of you reminds you just how blissful it is to be intimate with Jungkook. It was a shame you couldn’t call him yours.

“Mhm,” you inform him, slowly riding his dick up and down, your cunt swallowing his thick girth with ease and allowing yourself to be distracted from mellow thoughts. Jungkook thrusts up and you gasp at the sudden action, whining his name louder.

Jungkook scoffs at your reaction, smirking as his hands come to rest at your hips. You notice his lust filled eyes and it urges you to ride him faster.

“Going to miss this pussy when I leave,” Jungkook grunts, his deep, throaty voice making your heart race faster.

You ignore the ache that settles in your heart at the thought of him leaving.

“Mhm.” You respond, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Jungkook’s cock deep inside.

Jungkook’s lips brush over your clavicles whilst his hands slide up and down your back, eventually stopping on your ass, grabbing it to help you ride him. Your hips rock back and forth at a steady speed, relishing in the current moment.

“Ohh fuckk,” you cry out, savouring each drag of his monstrous cock. Your hips continue to rock back and forth and Jungkook simply wishes you both were on a mattress right now so he could pound into you hard and fast. You feel the way he contains himself from thrusting upwards, knowing very well that he’ll lose control.

The mere sight of you in the throes of pleasure, throwing your head back and lustily moaning has Jungkook weak. Your partly lidded eyes, flaming skin and heaving chest tells Jungkook all that he needs to know. You look alluringly beautiful, using Jungkook’s body to catch your release.

“Always ride me so fucking well, baby.” Jungkook rasps, lips moving to wrap around your nipples and sucking on them vigorously. He fondles with the other, neglected breast, pinching at your nipple and your whines only heighten.

“You look so sexy and you’re all mine,” he growls, his hips moving to thrust up against yours. His throaty voice impels you to shiver, dominance and possessiveness lacing it. “No one else can have this.”

“All y-yours, baby,” you croon, your walls tightening and clenching as his low grunts and moans turn you on. “There’s no one who’ll make me feel like this.”

And that’s true. You have no clue if you’ll ever stop craving Jungkook. The idea of him fucking someone else, paired with the idea of someone else fucking you, leave a distaste in your mouth.

“I’m close, Kook,” you whine whilst reaching for his veiny hands to rub against your palpitating clit. Jungkook understands the message, instantly moving his hand to thumb against it. He circles his finger around the bud and you helplessly mewl, aching to come.

You pull on Jungkook’s tresses as your hips begin to stutter in their grinding. “Such a good girl for me, always so good.” He encourages you and that simple sentence is all you need as your pussy clenches and slick cum squirts out of you.

“Just like that, baby girl. Just like that,” Jungkook harshly breathes, painting your insides with his seed. He lifts his hips, fucking into you through your orgasms. You moan loudly before falling against his chest, pressing firm kisses against his sweaty neck.

“I love it when you come inside me,” you purr, sucking deep, purple marks into his skin. Another thing that should not be happening. Looking after a baby, Jungkook’s baby to specify, was not something you imagine yourself doing anytime soon.

A husky moan escapes from Jungkook as he pulls your face towards his, pressing a searing kiss onto your rosy lips. He kisses you with love, purpose and sincerity. The third thing that should not be happening right now.

You shiver at the feeling of his cock being nestled inside your wet, warm walls. Jungkook’s hands move to your ass, gently grinding you against him. You pull back and are met with a sly grin on your temptations face.

Temptation was the word your mind had settled with. Is that what he was?

“Again?” He cockily mutters, moving forward to rub his nose against yours.

“Well, why not?,” is all you whisper back before pressing your lips against his, swallowing his giggles as you push him to lean against his seat, ready to be destroyed all over again.

Jungkook’s fingers are lost in your hair, and his other hand rests against your waist, gently caressing your exposed skin.

You think back to days upon days with him, starting with a simple kiss to now fucking at every chance you get.

You dwell on your feelings for the man in front of you. Who would’ve thought that the Jungkook you passionately hated would be the one who’s on your mind constantly? The one who’s name comes to mind first thing in the morning. The one who’s worth every risk and battle.

Maybe you could tell him, whisper your fondness for him in his ear, but you don’t.

Instead, you snuggle into his warmth, hoping it’ll satiate your aching heart for now.

And there we go. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback and comments are always appreciated ; it really makes me feel better about what I write so please do tell me what you think of this if it is not too much of a hassle <3

Until next time,

🤍

#jungkook smut #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook fics #jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #bts angst #jungkook x y/n #kpop smut #bts fluff #fic: losers

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vanserrasswife · 2 months

Text

Please, Stay

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has been going on a lot of missions for Rhysand lately, leaving reader alone. When Azriel gets sent on another mission not a day after getting back from another you ask him to stay.

Part 2 is here

Word Count:1095

I wake up to a warm presence at my back, tattooed arms wrapped around my waist, anchoring me to him. To azriel. My love. My husband and my mate. He smiles against my neck, burying his head into the spot where my shoulder meets my neck, his hair tickling my jaw.

“Finally awake?” Sleep drips off of his voice and I turn to face him, mirroring the lovesick grin currently decorating his face. Humming, I move impossibly closer to him, pressing my face to his chest. Azriel runs his fingers through my hair as he starts telling me about something his friends did when he last saw them. Friends that I am still yet to meet.

Sometime during his story, azriel rolls onto his back cradling me to his chest. The sun creeps in through gaps in the shut curtains leaving stripes of golden sunlight adorning his face. His hazel eyes shining in the morning sun, as I reach forward to push a stray lock of hair from his face.

A small, playful smirk, one of many reserved just for me, graces Azriel’s face as he leans in for his morning kiss. His lips are soft as they mould to mine in a dance done thousands of times before. He pulls away grinning like a school boy, brushing hair off of my face.

He’s still smiling as he gently rolls me off of him, presses a quick kiss to my lips and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. I frown and reach a hand out towards him, placing it on his elbow and silently demanding his attention. “Where are you going?” I’m playful as I ask, hoping desperately that he won’t tell me he’s leaving again. “Come back to bed.” I pull the covers back and pat the empty space, of the large bed, next to me.

Azriel’s smile leaves his face and his back stiffens. Shadows dart towards me and weave through my fingers and hair and azriel starts rubbing his palms against his legs. All tell-tale sign that he’s feeling nervous or awkward. “Rhysand is sending me on another mission.”

That one sentence bursts the bubble. The lies I had been telling myself that he would be mine for a few days at least. That I could spend more than two days with him at once. We didn’t even have a whole day this time, Azriel only having got back from his latest mission late yesterday afternoon.

I sit up in bed staring straight at the back of Azriel’s head. “How long for?” I ask quietly. Azriel lets out a long breath, “A week.” My stomach drops, “A week? But you only just got back from the last mission.” A week. Another whole week without him. Without my mate.

“There’s a lot going on right now, okay.” Azriel is quiet as he speaks but the annoyance at the repetition of this conversation is evident. “Az I didn’t mean it like that.” He stands and starts moving around the room to get ready to leave.To leave me again. “Az.” I move and stand next to the bed, “Az.” I still get no reply.

“Azriel. Don’t ignore me.” Silence. He keeps moving around the room, almost like a machine, like he’s already in that state he is when he’s working. When he’s not quite gone but not quite there. Somewhere in the middle. “Azriel, please. Don’t ignore me.” He walks towards me, I quickly wipe the tears away. When had the tears started? Azriel places his hands on my shoulders. Hazel eyes meet mine and just for a second, for a moment I think he’s going to speak to me. To stop ignoring me, to tell me that he won’t go, that he’ll stay with me and that we can go back to bed and lay in each other's arms all day.

None of those things happen. He gently moves me to the side, out of his way. He walks right past me. I feel my heart start to split, to fracture, to break. Silver tears line my eyes, obscuring my view, blurring the scene around me. “Azriel, please.”

I cross the room, standing in front of his imposing frame, I realise just how foolish I must look trying to stop him. If Azriel wants to go on this mission then he will, no matter the amount of begging I do. I could offer him everything I have and it still wouldn't be enough. It wasn’t enough to stop him before, it won’t be enough now and it certainly won’t be enough to stop him in the future.

Azriel looks down at me as I stand in front of him, blocking the doorway. “Angel, please move.” Azriel takes a step towards me, I take a step back letting the tears fall freely. “Az, please, just stay.” Azriel lets out a pained noise and reaches a hand out towards me, gripping my smaller hand between his two larger ones. “You know I would if I could.” My heart splits a bit more, the fracture growing larger and larger by the second. “Az.” My voice breaks as I say his name, he brings my hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to my palm. The action saying everything I wish he would as he leans down and presses his forehead to mine.

He cups my face between his hands, thumbs rubbing away the free-flowing tears, “Az-” He presses his lips to mine, the mixture of him and my salty tears exploding on my tongue. I chase him as he pulls away, doing anything to try and make him stay, but Azriel keeps me rooted to where I am. His forehead is back pressing against mine and his eyes line with barely there silver.

“You know I love you, right?” I nod, the tears coming stronger, “You know that I’ll be back as soon as I can be, right?” I nod again, my heart breaking more. Azriel wipes one last tear from my eye, places a kiss to my forehead and then he walks out of the door and leaves me standing in the doorway.

My hands clutching my sides, tears flowing steadily and my heart aching at the loneliness, Azriel turns and gives me a sad smile. A smile promising that he’d be back soon, but that he had to leave. That he would miss me, but he had to do whatever Rhysand told him to. Because Rhysand was his High Lord and who was I compared to a High Lord.

#acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #acotar azriel #acotar azriel angst

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mypoisonedvine · 4 months

Text

𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)

Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man. Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.

An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy. That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.

And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband. First of all, he was quite a bit older than you. Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father. Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist. Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.

Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that. It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents. He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.

They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again. And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing. He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure. It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents. He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.

There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler. A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager. He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.

You said yes, though. You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you. And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.

You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.

When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured. “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”

“It’s not that,” you promised. “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you. That’s not my issue at all.”

“Then what is?” he pressed. “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”

You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home. Your new home. “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”

He nodded. “Of course. I shouldn’t have presumed.”

You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything. “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him. “I don’t expect anything from you now. Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”

“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?”

Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them. “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”

You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress. Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him. Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.

You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs. Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.

Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right? It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.

But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that. Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it. He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself. One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.

You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak. “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath. You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him. Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.

“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.

It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again. “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”

You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus. That will be all.”

He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before. But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that. “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered. “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening. I believe we’ll be having quail.”

“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart. But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you. It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything. He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.

So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you. It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.

Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.

///

A few days later, you eloped. You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately. And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.

Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really. You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern. His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.

Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment. Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed. You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening. Today had already been perfect.

But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room. A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed. You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.

As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen. You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly. With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw. You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.

“You’re so beautiful, mein Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way. Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with mein before. And you were his, truly. You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).

He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up. It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball. Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.

Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear. And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.

You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage. This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day. It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night. But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part. Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.

You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element. Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.

His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you. You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.

You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming. His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest. His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible. You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here. He was so… masculine. His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.

But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you. You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.

Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you. His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.

The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.

When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours. This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.

He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours. And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.

Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach. You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.

“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.

“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear. “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”

You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck. “I know,” you replied. “I trust you, Laszlo.”

But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find. His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered. “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…

You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.

“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.

“It's… pleasurable,” you panted. “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”

“Where, my love?”

“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs. He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.

“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”

“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.

Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up. Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.

“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin. “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”

Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.

Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers. Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away. “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed. “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”

You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded. He obviously knew better than you about all this.

It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly. And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—

“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”

“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here. I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”

If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders. So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.

You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating. “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”

You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs. There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly. Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked. Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…

He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex. Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.

Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good? Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction. Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.

“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.

“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.

“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch. How could he do that to you so easily? “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”

His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath. “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.

“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”

He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this. Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.

“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it. “You have so much to learn. I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”

He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued. “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself. He pressed harder and your whole body jumped. “Fuck!”

He laughed a little, and your face got warmer. “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again. Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”

You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time. If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.

You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours. What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.

“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised. “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”

“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”

“Only this?” he pressed. “I shouldn't even add another finger?”

Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound. “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”

But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then. He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit. You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.

“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted. He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more. It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.

“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed. “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch. I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”

Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully. You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly. He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly. “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”

Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly. You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw. Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.

He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts. You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch. You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response. “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words. “Is it true you’re really my wife? This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”

You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly. “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again. “All I am is painfully honest.”

His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper. And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.

It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it. You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.

You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural. You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.

Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.

You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something. Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good. Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect. Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.

Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.

Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine. “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say? ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’

“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become. You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.

One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered. You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.

You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly. “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”

“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response. “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”

Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you. “O-oh, I— fuck…”

He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him. “See? Just let me take control, my love. I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”

Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard. You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature. Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.

And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again. It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before. Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something? You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.

Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.

“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…

“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it. I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”

His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive. “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.

“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”

Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.

You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.

His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.

You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking. He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised. “You’re incredible.”

You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation. “Laszlo, I… did I—?”

“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh. “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation. I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical. Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time. There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.

“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.

“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”. “What else could there be but making love?”

“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained. “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy. And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”

You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend. The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child. You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted. Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.

“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you. “Would that be alright?”

You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes. This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this? Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him. Because he'd asked you for it.

He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs. Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt. He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight. “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.

It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted. Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.

You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.

“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way. “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”

He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.

You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you. He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.

He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself. Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.

Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel. You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.

“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.

“J-just like that,” you pleaded. “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”

You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.

When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling. It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place. If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.

The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier? There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now. “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you. “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”

He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin. “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”

As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive. Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.

This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued. The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.

“I-I'm close,” you whispered. “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”

He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure. His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.

Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body. Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body. Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.

It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way. The highest, the heaviest, the most whole. You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more. Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.

It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss. You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly. “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least. You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…

He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips. Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present. You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten. You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to. What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you. Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared. It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.

He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking. You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…

“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him. Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.

While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit. It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly. And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.

He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last. Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.

“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him. “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you. Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”

You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.

“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop. I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”

A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.

“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh.

“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin. “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”

“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”

“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”

“It's no favor,” he insisted. “Your pleasure is what I desire. And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”

You whimpered desperately, pathetically even. “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”

“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured. “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”

You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.

“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too. It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it. You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.

Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt. His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath. “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.

“Keep saying my name,” he demanded. “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”

“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours. Anything you want from me, it's yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.

“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”

“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”

“Don't,” you begged. “I want it inside, Laszlo. I want all of you inside me.”

“Oh, darling, mein Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence. He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.

It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.

And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself. Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference. His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.

You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected. He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.

He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back. “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.

“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.

“But—”

“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could. But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”

Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back. It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you. It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.

He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him. You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges. The whole world seemed a bit softer, really. “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply. “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”

“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.

“No— that was perfect,” you promised.

“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach. “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant. “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.

“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed. “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you. But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”

“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally. I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”

A thousand words came to mind. Unladylike. Animalistic. Desperate. Insatiable.

“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.

“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.

“You— but I— I was always—!”

“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered. But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”

Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it. Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now. “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment. His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant. “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler smut

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slutforalastor · 17 days

Note

"Ah, he's got this problem." Your friend Mimzy waved her hand. "You know how animal demons get. I'd take care of him myself but I wouldn't want to spoil our working relationship. We go way back, you know."

Slowly, you nodded. "You'd consider it a personal favour?" That was how things worked in Hell. A consideration for a consideration. And dealing with the Radio Demon in rut was hardly a small favour, even if it did play well to your preferences.

"To me, yeah." Mimzy smiled broadly. "Just take him to a private room in the back and see that he's calmed down before it's time for the show. If he's cranky he's gonna start eating people, ugh." She fluttered her hand again. "Don't worry, though, he's an absolute sweetheart."

Seeing the Radio Demon turn sideways to get through the door, eyes glowing red and his huge rack of antlers festooned with cables, you were starting to doubt Mimzy's definition of sweetheart.

THIS POST CONTAINS MATERIAL NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS. 18+

Content: Rutting, antlerplay, role reversal, give and take, banter, mutual masturbation, light femdom, biting, marking, a lot of flowery language for smut

You'd heard the stories and rumors, saw the occasional report on VNN, but you'd yet to encounter the Radio Demon for yourself. Even pushed to the edge where something resembling humanity plunges into dark depths of depravity, he's maintaining a grip on decorum, his wavering smile barely forming the syllables when he introduces himself as Alastor, his voice impossibly mimicking the sound of a mono recording from a bygone time. Mimzy is going to owe you big-time.

"I'm doing well, sir. I have to say, you look like you've had an awful day."

"It is... most inconvenient," he stammers, shaking his head like a beached animal trying to throw off water. Just as Mimzy had requested, you'd waited for him in the private room, and you're still laying in the bed, your body draped across the two rows of firm pillows, down to your lingerie for his ease. With wobbling steps, he begins to close the distance, loosening his bowtie.

"I really must insist that this matter... stay between us." The restraint he's displaying seems as though it's taking every bit of faculties he can spare; his breathing, his sight, his ability to stand, all seem to be sustained with the minimum amount of effort possible. Even glazed in electric red, you can tell his eyes are focused intently on you.

"Who would believe me, anyhow?"

"... Too true, no one would dream of calling me a liar," he agrees, pulling his waistcoat off and leaving it in a heap on the bureau. His undershirt is the same deep red, intersecting black stripes making a cross across the center of his chest. He rolls his sleeves up, then sets his cane on top of his waistcoat. "Any... sensitivities I should know about?"

"I like being kissed on the neck," you venture, playing it safe for opening bids.

He laughs wickedly, the glow casting light further than it could reach before, his antlers growing another section in size, branching out that much closer to the ceiling. "Oh, Mimzy didn't tell me you'd be so pure. Surely you have something more entertaining than that?"

"You think I do this sort of thing often enough to have an itemized list?"

He tuts at your attempt at banter, removing his shoes and leaving them in the gap under the bed. "I don't have time for experimentation, my dear. I'm asking if you think you can handle what I have to give."

"I've handled everything so far," you smirk.

"Let's see how you handle the best, then," he mutters. With a wave of his hand, a black tentacle rises to wrap around your midsection, pinning you in place. He's climbing onto the bed, teeth bared like an animal seconds from pouncing. There's hunger in his eyes, desperation in his motion, a frantic bent to the way he's starting to falter, his kayfabe crumbling with every push of his knees. He's got your legs open, mounting you, and you can feel something alive and thrashing, barely contained by the slacks tenting away from his midsection. His eyes are narrowed in ravenous anticipation, his hips pressing him into you, etching his longing lengthwise against the fabric of your underwear. You feel your upper teeth against your lip, knowing that despite all your talk, you can't hide how appreciative you are of his straightforward approach.

With a hoarse exhale, he fumbles with his belt, the restraining tentacle slipping southward to yank your panties down. Your eyes catch a glimpse of how prepared you are for what's coming next, the evidence staining a dark spot in the light fabric. The Radio Demon hikes his slacks down to the midsection of his thighs, the tip of his firmness kissing against your entrance, his erratic movements keeping him from slipping in. You take it in your hands, which makes him rear up in ecstasy, a hissing growl punctuating the reaction, and align it directly where it needs to go. With a thrust motivated by nothing more than primal need, he forces himself deep into you, grunting in satisfaction at your breathy gasps when it settles into your apex. He gives you little time to adjust, burying himself into you with harsh, crushing strokes, the red in his eyes leaving a tracer every time you shut your eyes against the force of it. His hands are against your forearms, pinning the both of them on either side, and when your head goes back, he finds the crook of your neck with his teeth, his tongue, his lips, seasoning you with scratches, leaving welts from kisses and bites. They sting like fire, they excite like aphrodisiac.

"Is that what you mean, my dear? Is that what you're looking for?"

You whimper something that sounds close enough to assent for him to grow bolder, making a map of your body, marking a trail, carving canyons, raising landmarks that stand red and pulsing against the canvas of your skin. All this in the throes of his rutting deep into you. It drives you mad, your legs wrapping around his waist, bidding him to see just how much of his mind he can lose.

"God, your fucking taste. It'd be such a shame to just devour you, though. So many uses for the whole." Or maybe you're using the homophone of that word to make him seem kinder.

A flailing hand finds your throat, freeing your arms by necessity. You catch onto the rack of black antlers nearly driving themselves into the headboard, using them for leverage to arch your back. You can't tell if you've irritated or excited him with your little move, but the result is the same; he's pressing you with enough force that you can feel the force of it in your midsection. You're seeing red, the sound of him making a mess of you ringing in your ears, two organs vying for sensations yet to be experienced, every other part of you a mere pretense, a chorus playing ensemble to the true performance. And he's reaching the climax of it, his bucking hips shaking your entire frame. You can feel every shift of his disposition in the bone of his antlers, and you hold on for dear life as his urge rushes into your lower half, filling you with thick heat. You're moaning unconsciously, letting him keep you impaled for as long as it pulses with diminishing vigor, feeling every twitch in his shaft as it empties itself. Finally spent, he releases you, the tentacle unwinding from around your waist. Your fingers, knuckles sore from strain, release his antlers, and you extricate yourselves from one another. You can feel his seed weep from between your legs, your breathing rapid, your skin slick with sweat. He collapses onto his back, his legs still entangled with yours, the fabric of his slacks a strange texture on your drenched skin. Straining, you lift your head up, seeing that despite his exhaustion, his cock hasn't calmed one bit.

"Still... not satisfied?"

"This damnable rut..."

You pull yourself up, your lower half numb and leaving a trail of translucence as you crawl to the space between his legs. You wrap a hand around him, and he breathes a hissing inhale that tapers into a low, long groan.

"I didn't ask you..."

"You look like you're in misery, you really don't want the help?"

"I am in no position to keep going..."

"So let me handle it."

You can see the conflict playing out in his expression, but his hips gently bucking against your hand tell a different tale. "Not a soul can know about this."

You nod your assent, giving the part that needs it more of your attention. It's as lively as when he was frotting it against you, throbbing with want, coated with spend. It makes a marvelous lubricant, the wet sound of skin against slick skin nearly obscuring his quiet moans.

"I couldn't help but notice that you have sensitivities of your own, sir."

"Surely you can't mean..."

Your free hand dances like a bird across the branches in his horns, his vocalizations and submissive thrusts suggesting that you have stricken quite the nerve. He's already oozing pre into your palm, a searching hand walking a blind path between your legs, caressing you in kind. You've got a wild idea, just crazy enough to sound worth doing. There's a real chance you'll never cross each other's path again, might as well indulge. You spot a path that ends in a blunt point in his rack, and take it into your mouth, flitting your tongue against the rough material, firm and tasteless, but eliciting such a response from him that you'd not dare release it. His fingers are stroking you with all the effort they can muster, his thrusts weak but sincere.

"Cannot believe... you're getting away with this," he whines, his voice so submissive compared to the one you first heard that it threatens to send you over the edge. Why not press your luck? You straddle his waist, inching him into you margin by maddening margin. He's got no more clever quips for you, his curled claws clutching fistfuls of ruined bedsheets. The view from on high is a pleasant one. A few more motions, and you feel that sensation alighting in him once again; you're ready to join him. His whimpers go up an octave, the crackling filter in his voice thickening, distorting. For the second time, he climaxes inside of you, your own orgasm arriving in tandem. The both of you cry out, his subdued and sweet, yours unrestrained and carnal. You fold into him, his initial reaction wanting to pull away, but he grants you this favor, letting you find the crook in his neck in parallel. He speaks unfiltered, more as Alastor than as the Radio Demon.

"You know, it can be so hard to find willing assistants for these difficult times. Perhaps I could call on you again, my dear."

Maybe it should be you that owes Mimzy.

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #radio demon x reader #the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel

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mosaickiwi · 7 months

Text

Hide and Seek

950ish word Ren(dacted) drabble off a spicy hide and seek prompt from da discord except I didn’t do the NSFW ending because I’m cringe, my bad. GN reader.

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Prompt: Playing “Hide and Seek" with Ren in his spacious apartment, except no room is off limits, and he has to wear a Ghostface mask while seeking you out. And if Ren manages to find you, he gets to fuck you. I'M SORRY

Ren had given you fourteen minutes to hide. Fourteen much needed minutes to take stock of his pitch black apartment while he waited outside.

You'd been overly thorough, going room to room, crossing off some spots and keeping note of others, both silly and serious—you were momentarily tempted to hang ass-out of the washing machine for a cheap laugh. At the moment, hiding in the shrine-turned-storage room was your top choice. It was piled high enough with stuff that you were sure you'd sneak by him to some other hiding spot if he tried to corner you. But just in case, you made your way into his bedroom to find another option or two.

You hurried across the room to open his closet door and turn on its light. The rows of hanging and neatly folded black clothes on either side of the spacious walk-in didn't give you much to work with; even if you crouched down, he'd find you in an instant. Maybe you would hide in the storage room.

As you flipped the light switch and turned around to do just that, the front door loudly slammed shut. Your heart sank. You were out of time. There was no way you'd make it to your hiding place now. Halfway panicked, you fell to your knees and slid as quickly and quietly as possible under the bed. An obvious cliche—but it was already too risky to leave the room. You thanked your lucky stars you’d closed all the doors on your way here. It’d at least buy some time.

With bated breath, you waited in the dark, heart practically beating in your ears. The noisy sounds of them opening and closing doors echoed through the apartment. You could clearly hear his footsteps as well. He wasn’t normally anywhere close to loud, so he was definitely making all that commotion for your benefit. You weren’t sure whether to appreciate it or not, thanks to your steadily growing fear mixed with anticipation.

The noises got closer much faster than you expected them to. You only pressed yourself tighter against the floor. It was impossible to see much in the dark, but not even a brief flicker of light showed through the gap at the bottom of the bedroom door. He wasn’t bothering to turn the lights on. You were a bit miffed that he knew the layout of his apartment this well.

A few more loud footsteps, and you knew he was just outside the room. The doorknob faintly clicked as he turned it. The door opened, but thankfully you didn’t hear it shut. You could feel his footsteps, heavier than usual, thumping against the floor. Barely visible, the toes of his boots came into view right in front of you.

“I know you’re in here, Angel,” sang his voice from above you, the taunting muffled by the mask. The bed slightly dipped from his weight as he began to kneel down. Your heart only beat faster against your rib cage as you tried to stay calm. Did they really find you that quickly? You silently cursed yourself for being so picky.

All of a sudden he seemed to change his mind. The bed shifted and he moved back into complete darkness, out of your limited field of view. You squinted, trying your best to keep track of him. But it didn’t do any good. His footsteps reverberated once again as he walked around the room. There was a faint creaking noise from what must’ve been the closet door, then the footsteps got the tiniest bit quieter and quieter until they stopped once more.

You had to take the chance while he was occupied searching the closet. Otherwise, they’d just come back to look under the bed. With your heart in your hands, you trembled as you inched out on the side furthest from the closet, getting ready to bolt. If you were lucky, you’d make it to the storage room. One deep breath, and you started to run like your life depended on it.

Except you didn’t get far at all. You reached blindly in the direction of the door as an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, then a hand clasped over your mouth to mute the absolutely terrified shriek you let out.

“Y’really thought I’d gone in the closet, huh?” they laughed from behind while you struggled for a moment. “Of course you’d try to run.”

The rather violent thrumming of your pulse seemed to settle in his embrace. He moved his hand away from your mouth once you stopped flailing, and you heard fabric and rubber rustling as he took off the mask. You forced yourself to speak—in spite of the adrenaline still coursing through you, “I thought… I thought a chase would be more fun.”

His arm still around you skimmed low on your stomach before his other hand came to toy with the hem of your shirt, making you tense in excitement. “It would be fun, but we’re not in a movie. Can't make things that easy f'you,” he teased, along with placing a soft kiss to your temple.

You were thankful not to see whatever smug face he had. "You could've humored me a little bit." Your prep time felt like a waste, so you really wanted to put up a better fight.

He pulled you closer in response. The press of his body against you served as a crystal clear reminder for how your little game was meant to end. Eerily confident, his words took a moment to sink in when he began to push up your shirt, lips lingering at your ear to whisper, “Sorry, Angel. You aren’t ever getting away from me.”

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #momo writing #AND THEN THEY HELD HANDS I SWEAR /silly #idk if i wanna open the smut door leave me alone!!#what's proofreading

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muddyorbsblr · 6 months

Text

no resistance [kinktober 2023: fingering]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: President Loki fires his assistant for booking an interview gone horribly sideways and hires you in her place.

Pairing: President Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.4k [prepare drinkies and snacks accordingly]

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, be gone. i won't ask again); fingering; dirty talk; most likely inaccurate depictions of what a day in the White House looks like; improper use of the Oval Office desk; a handful of cuss words [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: power dynamic (she's his assistant); mentions of Natasha, Bucky, Morgan, and Steve if you squint; bit of a makeover trope towards the middle of the story; Reader is mid to late 20s

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): smut starts at "He worked his hand back under" and ends at "When he pulled his digits"

"I uhh…I think that's all the questions I have for this interview. Thank you so much for your time, President Loki, and I wish you the best of luck with your re-election campaign."

The journalist, if she could even be called that, fidgeted the slightest in her seat, her discomfort evident from both the motion and the expression on her face. As if she knew that the god-president was now quite cross with her, and much deservedly so.

As if she knew she spoke out of turn in this interview that was so graciously granted to her.

"My security will see you off the premises. Good day, madam."

He exited the room with a slight swish of his coattails, striding down the halls with a fury now directed at his assistant rather than the would-be journalist. Once the offending individual had been located, there was a meek, fearful look on her face as well.

"Boss," her voice wavered. "Your forehead vein's making an appearance again…"

"Clear your desk. Today is your final day on my team." His voice rang out and echoed all over the floor of the campaign headquarters, most of the staff raising their heads and peering from awkward angles to have a view of the commotion.

"But Boss, you said you wanted to connect with the younger adult audience and capture their votes. Miss Lewis has an audience right smack in that demographic, her videos get millions of views, I don't understand--" She let out a frustrated huff. "An interview with her could secure you a good few million votes in your re-election. From fresh voters who've just registered and are undecided. She could bridge the gap that makes you seem so unrelatable with the digital age--"

"That woman that should never dare call herself a journalist asked me to confirm the measurements of my phallus because it appears that that is the dominating question her audience had for me," he snapped, rendering the former assistant quiet.

"I--I'm sorry, Boss. I didn't know--"

"No. No you did not. It is clear that you did not do ample research on how this Miss Lewis conducted her behavior and what type of a strategy she would likely use to bridge this so called gap of relatability. I have let a good few shortcomings of yours slide since the beginning of this campaign season in hopes that you simply needed to find your footing. But time is running short and frankly so is my patience. I no longer have leniency to spare for incompetence, especially from people that work too closely with me. Pack your belongings, I expect you out within the hour. Security will triple check for any information you may try to smuggle out of the premises, so I suggest you do not even attempt it."

She let out a sound of utter disbelief. "And how exactly do you expect to replace me on such short notice? The press will see when I'm not in your entourage at the briefing tomorrow morning."

"I assure you, it will not be such an impossible feat to replace the likes of you. Now if I were in your shoes, I'd hasten my movements. The hour will tick by before you know it."

Members of Loki's security kept a close watch on her to ensure that she only vacated her desk of her personal belongings. Checking every item she placed into her purse if there were scribbled secrets or supporters' contact information that might give the opposition some sort of an advantage over him.

Once they were positive that there was nothing she held on her person that could even remotely sabotage his re-election campaign, he had her escorted out of the building.

Now on to finding his new assistant. Preferably someone with a sensible enough head on their shoulders that they would at least do a rudimentary background check on who would be conducting the interview before writing them a gate pass and allowing them into such a private space.

Loki took a glance at the small pile of papers that his former assistant left behind. One had numerous strikethroughs and comments scratched on so harshly there were indents on the paper from whoever was wielding the bright fuchsia-inked pen.

Boring as all fuck, this isn't the aesthetic that we're going for. Try again, Y/N, the feedback read. The suggestion held the name of a creator whose content focused on documentaries centered on powerful individuals that have leveraged their platform in a negative manner. That perhaps this journalist could interview him and ask questions that touched on his past before he arrived on Earth and even some of the myths that surrounded his time on Asgard.

The president snapped his fingers at the nearest staff member, beckoning him over with an impatient flick of his fingers. "Which one of your colleagues is Y/N? Point her out to me."

The staff member raised a shaking hand, pointing in the direction of your desk. "O-Over there, Mi--Mister President, Sir," he stammered, mentioning your full name before Loki motioned for him to return to his seat. He took a good look at you, phone clipped between your ear and shoulder while you wrote something down on paper, the concentration written all over your face as you proceeded with your work.

"Yes I'll be sure to keep your contact information on file and forward your request for interview. You'll hear from us soon about schedules and logistics," you told the other person on the line with a smile stretched across your face that was so obviously strained, he could imagine your cheeks were beginning to smart from holding it.

He watched you work for a few more moments, your side of the conversation giving enough away for him to figure out you were speaking with a representative from Stark Industries. Something about a partnership to provide free sustainable energy to the impoverished communities throughout the country.

"We're very much looking forward to speaking with you in more detail about your proposals, Miss Stark. Thank you so so much for taking the time to answer my call, we'll be in touch soon." You took your little pencil and used it to twist your hair out of your face, your strained smile finally dropping. "Sorry I probably won't be able to call though because the president's PA is a complete ditz that'll reject my request because it doesn't go with the aesthetic," you grumbled, imitating his former assistant's tone toward the end and bringing an amused smile to the god's face.

"Miss Y/L/N," he called out to you, his tone uncharacteristically soft. Despite it, however, the sound of his voice still caused you to start in your seat.

Your expression morphed into a grimace, sucking in air between your teeth, looking defeated. "Good afternoon, Sir," you spoke, your words shaking with obvious fear. "You…heard me mocking your assistant, I apologize nobody was meant to hear that. I'll uhm…I'll clear my desk, it was an honor getting to work--"

"Hold on a moment there, darling, you're not in any trouble." He approached you with his hands held out and open in an attempt to tell you you had nothing to fear. "It was…quite an accurate depiction, if we're being honest. Hardly a mockery. I've erm…I've actually come here to speak with you about some of the interview requests you'd sent in prior to today."

He held up some of the scraps of paper in his hand, each of them containing your handwriting and his previous assistant's caustic feedback in the obnoxious fuchsia ink she insisted on using. "They were all rejected," you offered lamely, grimacing again as you squirmed in your seat.

"They're also quite clever. Intelligent, even." Your head snapped up at the compliment, a mixture of shock and satisfaction on your face as you looked at him. Your grimace had given way to a tiny endearing smile, a tinge of pink now in your cheeks. "Had my itinerary been comprised of these instead, today might have turned out to be more productive."

Your eyes widened to the point he worried they might pop out of your head. "The Lewis interview pushed through today?" He nodded once, a look of pity now painting your features. "I am so terribly sorry I sent over my research on her content but--"

"My former assistant likely shredded your findings," he finished, sitting slightly at the edge of your desk. "It's alright, Y/N, I don't hold you responsible for any of today's shortcomings. I see the efforts you've taken to enrich this campaign. Shamefully quite late, but I see them now. Hopefully moving forward we could work together to correct your predecessor's oversights."

"Wait, hold on…former assistant? Predecessor? Sir what--"

"I'd like to offer you a promotion of sorts. I'm in need of a new assistant, seeing as I fired the last one today for organizing an interview so brazenly invasive I might as well have taken the meeting completely nude."

"Well I'm sure Ms Lewis' audience would've loved that--" You stopped your words short, looking as if you'd bit your tongue. "Sorry I shouldn't have--"

"I'm sure they would have," he chuckled, leaning in the slightest to get a better look at you, finding himself surprisingly looking forward to what the next few days would bring, seeing your face more often as well as the potential of a better workflow considering that you seemed to be more focused on substance over appearance. "Take the rest of the day to familiarize yourself with the new workflow, as well as my itinerary. I'll defer to your judgment to rearrange or outright cancel any upcoming interviews as you see fit. I'll meet with you a half-hour before breakfast for a debrief on any changes you've decided on."

He barely gave you any time to nod your head in agreement before he reached for your hand, raising it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on the back of your hand.

"I look forward to working with you, Y/N."

Your first few days working for President Loki had passed in a blur, working tirelessly to rearrange his schedule and maintaining a correspondence with the content creators that your predecessor had arranged interviews for. Spinning tales of how hectic the president's schedule had become on such short notice and therefore their appointments with him would have to be rescheduled at a later date.

A later date that probably would never come, considering that most if not all of the planned interviews conducted their business similarly to the one that effectively got his former assistant fired within the hour. You made a small note in your own binder that perhaps when he'd secured his re-election, they could be granted access among the crowd of reporters during larger press conferences.

"Maybe if you're among hoards of other reporters, you can keep your thirst in check and actually act like respective, decent human beings. Not asking about dick measurements like you're asking about the weather today. Thirsty idiots…" you grumbled, writing another name into the list.

"If that list gets any longer, you may need to have a rotation schedule, sweetling." You jumped at the sound of the president's voice coming from so close behind you, peering over your shoulder to find that he stood near enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. "Are these all the ones you'd rescheduled from the prior calendar?"

You mutely nodded, swallowing your nerves before speaking. "All the ones so far," you clarified, clicking away at your computer to show him the packed and borderline overbooked schedule that was formerly planned for him. "I made sure to go for the ones planned in the next few weeks first so that they at least have enough time to reallocate their time somewhat. There's about six more weeks worth to sort out."

"Excellent work," he told you, his voice even closer to your ear now that he was leaning over your shoulder to peer at the schedule on your monitor. "And what does my schedule look like for today, Y/N?"

You clicked to this week's view, taking a cursory look at the calendar. "After the press briefing, you have a lunch meeting with the Department of Defense along with one of the directors of R & B Weaponries, a Mr Barnes, to discuss about a new ammo supplier for the Navy forces and your own personal security detail."

He nodded along with your summary, the citrusy leathery scent of him wafting into your space and making you a touch dizzy from his onslaught of your senses. You just had to smell immaculate on top of looking like sex on legs, you hissed inwardly, biting down hard at the inside of your lip to keep you from saying a word aloud.

"And will you be joining me in this luncheon?"

Your eyes widened at his question. Of course you wouldn't be. The information to be divulged in such meetings should be something heard only by the president or those he deems closest to him. You were his assistant, nothing more. All you needed to know were names, dates, and overall points of discussion.

"I uhm…no. I don't--I don't believe I will be," you stammered, your breath hitching when he turned his head to look at you and suddenly you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. "Personal assistants aren't usually included in the guest list for these events," you offered in a lame attempt at explaining a question he didn't even ask.

"You are now. We'll leave at a quarter to noon." He began to walk out of the office, only halting to look at you over his shoulder when you let out a tiny squeak like you were about to protest. "Are you opposed to this new arrangement, sweet mortal?"

"Uhh--" You took a breath, composing yourself. "No, Sir. I'll call the restaurant to update the head count."

President Loki smirked at you, jerking his head toward the door. "Excellent. Now we should get going. I believe the briefing will commence in a few moments."

While you were on your way to the briefing room, you sent a haphazard text to a stylist friend, a Hail Mary to hopefully get you looking somewhat presentable.

Tasha, massive SOS. I need an outfit to not look like a total clown show next to the President for a lunch thing.

You followed a few steps behind the president, taking a quick look at your watch when you got notified of a reply from your friend, Natasha Romanoff. Is "lunch thing" your way of downplaying "date"? He finally made his move on you after making googly eyes at you all week long?

Her text had you fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you stepped into the briefing room, cameras at the ready and reporters sitting straight and alert, waiting to pounce with their questions once President Loki was situated at his podium.

The hour went on mostly without a hitch, you taking your notes on near everything he'd mentioned in response to the reporters' queries. While your boss was speaking with a few people from Press Relations, your ears perked up at some small talk between two reporters, one of them having a few biting words to say about you.

"I mean at least his last assistant had some sense of fashion. I never thought I'd miss Little Miss looks like she got hired from the red light district, but at least she didn't look like some frumpy ass college student who just rolled out of bed. Honestly she's dragging the whole look down and that's saying so much because Mr President can make anything look hot."

"Except her, apparently," the other reporter shot back in a snippy tone. "Guarantee you he just hired her so that he has less of a distraction in the workplace. She's the kind people look at and they're doing the opposite of mentally undressing her."

"Mentally putting a paper bag over her head," the first reporter capped off with a witchy cackle.

You felt your fury bubbling just under the surface, wanting nothing more than to march over there and give them a piece of your mind for being so catty at someone that they didn't even know. To drag them over their impractical shoes that made their legs wobble if they so much as tried to stand straight or their two sizes too small shirts that had buttons fighting for their life trying to keep their tits covered.

Instead of doing any of that, however, you pulled out your phone to text Tasha. Firstly, no it's not a "date", when are you gonna drop that tin foil hat of yours. And secondly, scratch what I said earlier. You've wanted to give me a makeover since college? Now's your chance, Babes. Gimme the works.

You sidled past the president and his current company, asking one of your closer acquaintances from the staff to accompany him to any impromptu meetings until the lunch meeting later and to inform your boss that you had to attend to a personal matter, but that you would be back before he left for the restaurant.

As the clock kept on ticking closer half past noon, Loki could feel himself getting antsy waiting for your return. He'd noticed how jittery you seemed when you passed him on your way out of the press briefing, and the staff member you'd sent to keep him apprised in your stead gave no satisfactory explanation on what caused you to step out so abruptly.

"Where are you, Y/N…" he grumbled into the empty office, looking on at your desk that he'd moved inside so that calling on you would require less effort. Instead of stepping outside or phoning you, he'd simply have to call your name from wherever he was and you were already there.

And if he was being completely honest with himself, he'd also done it so you would be closer to him and he would see you at all times throughout the day. He found your presence calmed him, the competence you'd more than proven to have over the last few days already easing his day to day.

Just as he was about to reach for his phone and call you to check if you were alright, he heard your voice outside his office, speaking with your reliever in a tone he likened to one that he heard back on Asgard. Whenever Frigga would correct him on any missteps he had throughout his magic lessons.

"I totally get how you can get lost finding the meeting rooms, it's a goddamn maze in here. But if you make any of them lose unnecessary time because of it, not everyone will come at you with understanding. Just make sure that it doesn't happen for next time. I'll draw you up a map for the rooms that are most frequently used. Study it, live it, breathe it. See if someone from security can accompany you while you familiarize yourself with the place, and don't stop until you can navigate the floor with your eyes closed."

"Yes, ma'am," your reliever confirmed, his tone audibly less jittery than when he was speaking with Loki. "Thank you so much, Y/N. Honestly getting you to be in charge of the rest of us might be one of the best things the President ever did. The one before you was so--"

"Harpy?" you finished with a chuckle, the lightness in your tone feeling like a soothing balm to the nerves Loki had had since he saw you exit the White House so hastily earlier this morning. "Remember when I tried to suggest that we should reach out to Greta Thunberg's team?"

He could almost hear the other man shudder from the other side of the door. "Gah, she nearly ripped your throat out that day. Something something not shippable and we need to get 'hot people'. Really lost the plot, that one. Anyways, I'll go work on memorizing that map. Thanks again, Boss."

"Yikes, don't call me that," you shot back, your voice growing closer to the door, prompting Loki to walk back to his desk before you stepped into the office. "That's just for our boss, no one else." Your footsteps sounded different; there was considerably more of a click in each step, and the slightest stumble to them as if you were re-familiarizing yourself with your own legs.

There was a bizarre feeling of the air becoming easier to breathe once he heard the door open. "There you are, darling. I hope your personal matter's been sorted out and you're ready to--" His words halted dead in their tracks once he turned around and got a good look at you, quickly surmising that the 'personal matter' was a complete overhaul of your appearance.

There was an ethereal glow to your face and your hair that had his hands twitching to reach out and touch you, and in place of the slightly oversized sweater and denim you'd worn this morning was a blazer designed to be worn as a dress, set in a shade of green that matched his waistcoat perfectly. To top it all off, the buckle that cinched at your waist as well as the heels that brought your height up by a few inches were set in a gold that matched the horned helmet atop his head.

You looked like the personification of his most far-fetched fantasies whenever he thought of what he wanted in someone that would stand by his side. A confidant. A partner. A lover, even.

Someone radiantly beautiful, brilliant, and completely unafraid to declare themself as his by adorning his colors.

"Too much?" you spoke up, jostling him out of his thoughts. "I-I mean if it is I still have a change of clothes in my bag I can--"

"No, no. It's not too much, little mortal. Not at all." Mentally he was stabbing himself for stumbling over his words so clumsily; he was normally so much more composed than this. "You look…ravishing." Your eyes lit up at his words, betraying the neutral expression you tried to maintain. "Come. We should head to the restaurant."

He offered out his hand to you, confusion plaguing him when the rhythm of his heart stumbled just as his words did once you'd placed your hand in his. He found you such an anomaly, looking at you with utmost curiosity, wondering how someone could simultaneously calm the chaos all around him and yet incite an entirely different type of chaos in his heart. Not to mention his loins.

"You know, darling, had we been in Asgard, your wearing of my colors could be interpreted as a declaration of your allegiance to me," he spoke once you were both situated in the back of the car. You nodded your head slowly, as if ruminating over what he'd just said. He couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"That makes sense," you answered, seeming as if you were thinking aloud. "Seeing as I am your assistant, people should see within seconds that I'm associated with you. The color thing's probably the most tasteful way of doing it rather than a t-shirt with your face printed on it…"

"May I ask you something…a touch more personal, Miss Y/L/N?"

"O-Of course," you stammered, your nodding a touch unsteady, fingers laced together tightly as if you were trying to keep your nerves at bay.

"What made you decide to work for me?"

You blinked rapidly for a moment, seeming to be genuinely taken aback by the question, before composing your answer.

"All the people who held the position before you were horrid…evil men. All they cared about was finessing a kick back. Burying their constituents in debt. You stepped into office and…I was out of debt in less than half a year. My student loans were nowhere to be found. All because you prioritized our right to have an education. Of course I was going to try working on your re-election campaign."

Hearing you talk about his predecessors, describing them the way you did as if they were so starkly different from him, somehow didn't sit right with the god. "But darling, you do know that I, too, am what others would call a…horrid, evil man?"

You shook your head stubbornly, sitting up straighter as if you were about to deliver a lecture. "No. You're not. I've seen evil men. I've worked with them, I've--" The words caught in the back of your throat, making you clear your throat before pushing on. "I've suffered at the hands of evil men."

Your eyes met his, the sincerity in them knocking the air out of his lungs. Had he been up on his feet, he was sure that your next words would have knocked him down on his ass.

"I'm not looking at an evil man."

His next query escaped from his mouth so swiftly, he couldn't have stopped the words even if he wanted to. "Y/N, what prompted all this?" He made a motion from your hair to your feet. "Why the change?" You squirmed in your seat, as if holding the answer in was making you physically uncomfortable. "It's alright, darling, you can tell me."

There was a heaviness in your tone when you answered. Like you were holding back tears from just recounting the events. "This morning…in the briefing room. There were these reporters commenting on how I looked and how it kind of…cheapened the image. Your image. Ruined the aesthetic."

"What is it with these feeble-minded mortals and their absurd fascination about aesthetics?"

"I don't know," you blurted out. "But the thing is, Sir, I don't have to know. The only thing I have to understand is that there are people, voters, who assign a high value to the aesthetic of a candidate. And it won't sit right in my conscience if I have the knowledge that my appearance can jeopardize someone's decision to vote for you, and I do nothing about it. So…I called up a friend of mine and…told her to make me a new person. A pretty one."

You were already beautiful, he thought to himself. It mattered not how you presented yourself.

Before he could suppress the urge, he was reaching over to your side of the backseat, tucking a lock of your hair that fell loose, obstructing his view of your features. "You deserve so much better than this, sweet mortal," he said softly, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers, his heart warming when he saw how you leaned into his touch. "You should be working for an honorable man. A decent man."

The next words to come out of your mouth had him just about ready to carve his heart out with his own dagger and serve it to you on a golden platter. "I am."

"Babes, noooooo," Tasha whined from her end of the video call. "Why are you putting your hair up? The whole fit goes better with your hair down."

You mumbled your answer as incoherently as you could, hoping she'd chalk it off to a bad connection as you fiddled with the half of your hair that was put up in a little gold claw clip.

"What was that, Babes? I didn't quite hear you."

Dammit. "Because he told me he likes it when my hair's not blocking my face, okay?" you answered her with an exaggerated sigh. "Now please tell me my makeup meets your standards because I really don't wanna explain that I lost motion in my right arm from blending my eyeshadow."

"Okay first, your makeup's fine. I'm so proud I'm about to quote that little red cartoon dragon. And second, I can't believe you had the audacity to tell me I had a tin foil hat on, I told you the first day you walked into that briefing room with him that that man couldn't stop himself from looking at you and looking like a heart-eyed emoji. Now you're telling me this? Babes, it's time you accept it. The President has it bad for you, and give it eight to ten months, and you're gonna become First Lady Y/N Laufeyson. In fact I'm so sure of it that 'if I'm wrong, I'll dye my hair puke green. Neon, glow in the dark, puke green."

You let out a frustrated sound that echoed throughout your apartment, stepping back from the phone and showing your friend your choice of clothing for the day, just like you had every morning for the last week. Today it was a dress with puff sleeves, a high neckline with a keyhole and ribbon bow detailing, and an a-line skirt. In President Loki's signature shade of green, of course.

"Looks great, Babes. He's gonna love it."

"Doesn't matter if he likes it, Tasha. The viewers just have to not think I'm ruining his look," you grumbled, stepping out of your phone camera's view to change into the dress.

"Mm hmm, keep telling yourself that, Y/N. Have a good day at work. Try not to ride your boss until after office hours, okay?" You waved her off, ending the call and putting your phone on Silent before you headed off to the White House.

When you got to President Loki's office, he was sat at the edge of his table, hands resting on the lux hardwood surface, and legs spread.

The posture put those unfairly sensual muscular thighs on sluttish display, made worse by the way the fabric of his at least one size too tight slacks stretched and strained over his skin. You had to look away before you dared look closer because you could've sworn you also clocked some tenting between his legs.

"Good morning, sweet little mortal," he greeted you, his voice even more gravelly than usual. Your knees nearly buckled from its effect on you, already feeling the familiar pooling between your legs.

"Good morning, Sir," you answered, already feeling flushed, your breathing a bit deeper and causing an uncomfortable pinch from how bra was pinching against your breasts. "You're up early today…"

"I'm still up, darling. I couldn't sleep. Something was…plaguing my mind."

"Oh?"

He gave you a single nod before raising his hand forward, curling his fingers in a motion that had your feet moving of their own accord toward him. Had you not known any better it was like he cast a spell that summoned you to his side.

But you did know better. He didn't need to cast a spell.

"Closer," he breathed when you were standing two feet in front of him, flicking his gaze down at the space between his legs.

Your heart caught in your throat, your pulse thundering in your ears and pounding so hard you could swear you felt it even at the tips of your toes. Regardless, you obeyed, stepping closer until you stood less than a foot away from him.

"I want you to know you're free to tell me if you wish for me to stop." His words came out strained, like it hurt to say them. "I would never hold it against you. If you do not feel the same I can drop it and we can both simply pretend this never happened."

There's no way, you kept on stubbornly repeating to yourself. Even as he placed his sinfully large hands at your sides, bringing you even closer, so close that you could feel his breath warming your face.

Even as he reached up to remove the clip holding your hair up, weaving his fingers into your hair to hold you in place while his eyes roamed your features, constantly returning to stare at your lips.

The stubborn voice in the back of your head only got silenced once he closed the remaining distance between you, soft lips pressing against your own in a kiss so delicate it was like he thought you were made of porcelain and you would crack at even the slightest touch.

"You can stop me if you feel I've overstepped," he whispered, still close enough that the movement of his lips still faintly ghosted over your own. "I just simply couldn't go another day without telling you--"

You felt the slightest thrill up your spine at the surprised sound that caught in the back of his throat, when you cut him off by giving him a fleeting kiss of your own.

You barely registered the heavy sound of his helmet hitting the tabletop before he pulled you closer, one hand tugging lightly at your hair, the other roaming down your body and working its way under your dress. He grasped at your thigh, letting out a sinful moan when you parted your lips for him and your tongues met in a frantic tangle.

"Do you trust me?" he rasped, catching his breath. He let out a sharp exhale, sounding relieved when you simply nodded your head. He wrapped his hand around the inside of your knee, his other arm wrapping around your waist to lift you up to straddle his lap, knees resting on the edge of the tabletop.

The precarious position had you grasping at his shoulders, leaning into him to keep yourself from keeling over.

He splayed his hand across your back, holding you steady. "I have you, sweet girl." He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, kissing his way down your neck until you let out a strangled moan once he'd reached a spot between your neck and shoulder.

You had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation for this. You slept in and you were still in your apartment and now you were about to be late for work. Yup, that was it. You tried to dig your nail into your palm, wincing at the sharp pinch you felt but nothing came of it.

"Agh--" Your nail broke skin, a tiny spot of blood blooming on your palm.

"Darling Y/N, what in the Nine are you doing?" He wrapped his hand around your wrist, running his thumb across your palm, seeing the minuscule wound.

"This is a dream," you mumbled, more to yourself. "I have to wake up."

"Little mortal," he cooed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "You think this a dream?" You whimpered at the smirk he gave you when you nodded. "So you've dreamed of this before? Of my kiss? My touch?"

Ah what the hell I'm dreaming anyway. "I have. Every night."

"Oh my sweet little mortal." He pressed a kiss to your palm, the pinprick wound suddenly nowhere to be found when he pulled away. "I can assure you…if this is a dream, it is one we share. The things I've wanted to do to you. With you. Now that I know you've wanted this, too, there is very little that can stop me from turning those dreams into reality."

He worked his hand back under your dress, between your legs, fingertips teasingly trailing up the inside of your thigh. He let out a staggering breath when he met the fabric of your panties, drenched with your arousal.

When you began to whimper from his fingers tracing along your slit he pulled you in for another kiss, effectively muffling your moans when he began to circle your clit over your panties. You started to roll your hips into his touch in response, your body already aching for more.

"So deliciously eager," he purred, kissing his way to your ear. "But I'll be needing you to stay alert, darling." You let out a little squeak when his hold tightened around your waist, keeping you from grinding your hips and chasing your own pleasure. "Now tell me what will be on my itinerary for today."

The softly growled order had your mind scrambling, thoughts that usually easily stitched together to form whatever answer he needed suddenly becoming disjointed and lost to the recesses of your consciousness. "Wait what?"

"I'm sure you understand my need for those under my employ to be mentally sharp as a tack. Regardless of my desire and affection for you, sweet mortal, you are still among those people." You arched your back, pressing your chest against his when he moved the fabric of your panties aside, sliding a single finger inside you and moving in long, languid strokes. "However now we could perhaps make our little morning discussions a touch more…interesting."

"You have the p-press briefing at eight and--Ohh fuck!" Your grip on his shoulders tightened when he inserted a second finger and curled them upwards, brushing against a spot that had you letting out the most obscene moan that filled his office.

"Such vulgar words from your lucious lips," he panted, stealing another kiss from you, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away. "Like watching an angel in the midst of corruption. On her pretty little knees for her god." He brushed against the spot with firmer strokes, making you wetter and turning you into a whimpering mess. "Keep going. What comes after the briefing?"

Your mind was spinning trying to recall. You mentally smacked yourself for struggling to remember when you'd just been committing the schedule to memory on your Uber ride here.

"U-Uhm…You have a pre--a prefatory meeting with Morgan Stark at 9:30 to dis--Fucking hell--To discuss free sustainable e-energy to lower class communities." You kept on frantically combing through your memories of your ride over here to recall the rest of the schedule.

"And what else, sweetheart?" He stilled his fingers while pressed on that same spot, lightly ghosting the pad of his thumb over your clit. "You're already doing so well. Finish it so we may move on to more…pleasurable…activities."

He pressed his lips to the base of your throat, the feel of him sucking lightly on the skin driving you near incoherent. "You--You have a meeting with R & B at three. To fi--" You threw your head back and let out a howling moan, his hand tightening on your back to keep you from falling over. "To finalize the contracts for the Department of Defense. And your security detail."

"Not just my security," he grunted, starting to stroke his fingers again. "Yours, too."

That was enough to break through your pleasure-induced haze by a fraction. "Hold on. What? Sir, I don't need--Ohh!" The rest of your words died with an obscene moan when he started flicking his fingers rapidly inside you.

"You're far too valuable for me to not allocate resources to ensure your safety when I can't protect you myself," he explained, peppering kisses across your collarbone. "Is that all for my day, sweet girl?"

"Y-Yes!" you whined, trying desperately to move your hips for even the tiniest bit more friction. "That's everything."

"Excellent." He moved his hand up to hold you by the back of your neck, letting out a sinful groan when he licked into your mouth. "And you'll be joining me in all of those, won't you?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I always want you with me," he murmured against your slips, letting out a moan of his own when he kissed you again, starting to move his fingers faster and pressing his thumb firmly on your clit. "Now come for me, my sweet mortal. My corrupted little angel. Make a mess on your god's fingers."

Your orgasm overtook you as the god moved his hand to your lower back, guiding your movements as you rode out your high, coating his fingers with your release. Your mind was a haze, the sound of his raspy utterances of your name barely hitting your ears. His chest heaved against yours, lips pressing soft kisses to the side of your face while your breathing evened out.

When he pulled his digits out of you, you let out a whiney groan, already feeling the loss of him. The sight of the god placing his fingers in his mouth, his sinfully dexterous tongue lapping up every drop of your juices from his skin, had you squirming in his lap all over again.

"More already?" he teased, pulling you in for another kiss. You could faintly taste yourself on his tongue. "What a beautifully insatiable little mortal you are. It's as if the Norns had made you just for me." His hands freely roamed your back while he kissed his way down your neck, sucking a bruise onto your collarbone. "I've indulged myself in such fantasies of claiming you on every surface of this office. Of every room in this house. I want to lay you down on my desk without a stitch of clothing on you and get drunk on the taste of you."

You could only respond with a faint whimper, images of what he'd described taking up all the space in the forefront of your mind. "Please…"

"I promise you we'll have all the time to make every single one of those debauched fantasies come to life, sweet girl." He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the table, softly chuckling against your lips when you started to pout at your feet hitting the ground. "But I want our first night together somewhere more intimate. A moment that shouldn't be rushed and stolen between meetings, held in secrecy in my office."

He held your chin delicately between his fingers, keeping you from looking away at him. The mere sight of the near fully blacked out eyes shining with sincerity and held back words was enough to have your knees buckling again.

"Later tonight," he continued. "When everyone's day is over, then our night can begin. I'll bring you to my private quarters and there…" He took a deep breath, a brilliant smile stretching across his face, a real one so starkly different from the practiced smirks he gave the public. "There I will make love to you."

He guided you to take a step back from him, your heart fluttering when he placed a soft kiss to your forehead before conjuring a majestic golden mirror into the room with a flick of his wrist. The image of you visibly disheveled, paired with the smeared lipstick marks all over President Loki's face, had you biting your lip trying to hold back a smile of your own.

You held the undone ribbon of your dress between your fingers. "And here I spent a good ten minutes on this trying to look all perfect," you told him playfully, a fit of giggles finally escaping you when he took the straps from your hands and used them to pull you to him once again, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

"Much as I appreciate the effort and having you look as if you'd gift-wrapped yourself just for me with this lovely little flourish, may I say that it matters not how you dress. You were already perfect the day I first saw you on the campaign floor."

"I was wearing a ratty old sweater from college," you shot back, finding it hard to breathe.

"The color of the sky on a stormy day." He brushed his nose against yours, pressing a soft kiss to the tip. "Turn around. Face the reflection."

When you faced the mirror again, he redid the ribbon exactly as it was when you left your apartment with a wave of his hand, kissing along the side of your face as he put your clip back in your hair.

"There you are, sweetheart," he cooed, nipping at the shell of your ear. "Not a hair out of place." Another wave of his hand and he, too, had returned to his state before you walked into the office. "I'd very much like for you to join me for breakfast."

You answered only with a nod, reaching for his hand.

As he led you down the halls toward the dining room, you sent Tasha a quick text.

About what you said earlier…fingers don't count, right?

A/N: It's finally done! The initial 5 stories goal of Kinktober 2023 are all up and I'm finally going back to writing the series I haphazardly dropped when I decided to write these pieces over a month ago. And I finally have a President Loki story in my little library of works 😳👀

I swear I didn't expect to write such a mega chonker for the first President Loki story but I got all kinds of carried away…so much so that there are scenes that I cut from the final draft that might become drabbles somewhere down the line.

For now though…back to the blorbos of 'one look & they'll know', 'relinquish the crown', 'the final Lady Sharpe', 'let me hear you', 'rules of conduct', 'feels like mine'…and some other not-so-secret projects 😳👀

Ohh…and that bit in the end where he pulls on the ribbons of her dress? This was fully the vibe:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki smut #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #president loki x reader #president loki x female reader #president loki smut #muddyorbs writes #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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