#and every little thing will lead me on a trail to one of the two

[ellemj]

Bigger Than He Was

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @littlemiss-yeehaw: jealous!Bucky, fake dating, handjob.

Summary: Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.

Warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, handjob, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight size kink, jealous!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N: The first request I wrote from the smut menu had to be from my Tumblr best friend. Not only does she pre-read nearly everything that I post, but she keeps me from deleting my blog on a near daily basis, and she keeps me sane. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did. If it wasn't for this girl, my blog would've been deleted before Needs & Wants was ever completed lmao.

            You’ve decided that no one in the world looks more out of place than a super soldier in a grocery store. Specifically, a super soldier in the produce aisle of a small local market. He looks like a bull in a China shop as he scours through a bin of tomatoes to find ones he approves of. He holds one tomato in each of his leather gloved hands as he compares them carefully, acting like choosing between the two is every bit as difficult as deciding whether someone lives or dies in his usual line of work.

            “They’re pretty much the same, Bucky, and we only need two. Just put them in a bag.”  You say with a sigh, resting your elbows on the handle of the shopping cart that you’ve been pushing as you’ve trailed behind him. Though you’re the one carrying the team’s grocery list, Bucky’s been the one pulling things off of the shelves and setting them in the cart. You originally suggested each of you taking half of the list and splitting up to get the shopping done faster, and to avoid the pointless arguments and annoyances you’d face in each other’s presence, but Bucky’s only response to your idea was a furrowed brow and silence. So, you’ve been following him around with the shopping cart safely between the two of you.

            Bucky starts to put both of the tomatoes down and pick two different ones just to bother you, but he takes the high road and bags the two he’s already holding instead. He’s usually assigned to grocery shopping with Sam, which he definitely prefers, but with Sam off to visit his family this week, he ended up being stuck with you.

            “What’s next?” Bucky asks, setting the plastic bag of produce in the cart and then casting you a sideways glance. You cross tomatoes off of the small piece of paper in your hand before moving on to read the next item.

            “We’re done with food items, next is ibuprofen, melatonin, and some feminine products.” You answer, lifting your gaze to meet his as you tap the pen against the piece of paper absentmindedly. Bucky nods curtly and starts leading the way down the aisle, knowing all of the aisles with medication, first aid, and toiletry type supplies are on the opposite end of the store. You follow a few feet behind him, missing your usual shopping buddy, Wanda. Though it’s a menial task, you always seem to have a fun time when the two of you are on the grocery schedule for the week. Bucky is a stark contrast to your far more bubbly, lighthearted friend.

            You’re lost in thought as you turn a corner and enter the pharmacy aisle, not paying any attention as Bucky looks through various types of over-the-counter medications. It isn’t until you hear a voice one aisle over that you straighten up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The voice sounds familiar, so familiar that you find your ears straining to hear it better so you can identify it. Is it an old friend? Someone from SHIELD? You can’t be sure, but you’re starting to think it isn’t a friend by the way your nerves seem to be rising with every incoherent word that they mutter. You leave Bucky standing at one end of the aisle as you walk ahead, trying to get closer to the source of the voice. You’re nearly at the opposite end of the aisle when suddenly, the front end of another shopping cart appears and quickly turns in front of you, almost colliding with the front end of yours. You stop abruptly for two reasons. The first reason being so you don’t cause a pileup on aisle thirteen. The second reason being because you now see whose voice was causing your heart rate to elevate and your stomach to twist into a knot. Your fucking ex-boyfriend.

            “Oh, wow, hey!” The man before you extends the greeting so casually, as if he didn’t waste a year of your life with meaningless words and empty promises. He raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting over his shoulder just as a pretty blonde woman steps into view. Oh. “This is uh, this is my girlfriend.” He gestures to the woman before looking back at you with a wary glance, clearly trying to gauge how you feel about him committing to someone new so soon. The woman offers a small smile and wave as she introduces herself by name, but it all goes right over your head. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to tear your eyes away from the piece of shit behind the cart full of organic produce and a questionable amount of wine.

            Bucky’s watching everything unfold from a few yards behind, acting as if he’s still deciding between a name brand bottle of ibuprofen and a generic version of the same. He gives you a few seconds to soak in the obviously awkward social situation as his eyes analyze your body language. You’re tense, your grip on the handle of the shopping cart is so tight that your knuckles are turning white. It’s been ten seconds since the woman introduced herself to you and you still haven’t uttered a word. Bucky glances to his right and notices the selection of condoms, lube, and pregnancy tests spread over the shelves next to the medication section. He only takes a second to weigh his options: let you continue to flounder in front of your shitty ex and his new victim or offer you an easy reprieve while simultaneously sending your ex into a mental spiral. His gloved hand wraps around a couple of boxes of pregnancy tests and he pulls them off of the shelf, signifying he’s chosen the latter.

            “Oh, trying for a baby?” Your ex jokes when Bucky approaches from behind you and drops a handful of pregnancy tests into the cart.

            “No, it’s just smart to have a few of these on hand when we only ever fuck raw. Do we know you?” Bucky’s tone is calm and even, like he’s just said something completely within the ordinary. It breaks you out of the trance you were in and you blink your eyes as you feel the heat from Bucky’s body enveloping you in warmth. He cages your body between his and the cart, his chest brushing against your back as he places his hands on either side of yours on the shopping cart handle. You don’t see the way his lips curve upward into a shit-eating grin as your ex’s face falls at both Bucky’s unfiltered words and the public display of affection he’s witnessing.

            “Aren’t you…” The man addresses Bucky with slightly widened eyes and an unsure voice. You almost laugh at the effect Bucky has on the poor guy’s demeanor, and the fact that Bucky towers a few inches over the man is just icing on the cake.

            “Bucky.” Your ex has just realized that not only are you grocery shopping with the Winter Soldier, but you’ve also been letting him fuck you.

---

            Your week has been full of unexpected moments, but two stand out in particular. The first moment was when Bucky so calmly chose to play the role of your fake boyfriend at the grocery store three nights ago. Nearly every waking moment since then has been spent replaying it in your head, wondering why he decided to step in and do that for you, why he decided to take such a blunt approach and tell your ex that the two of you prefer unprotected sex, and how the hell he acted as if nothing happened immediately after the interaction was over. The second moment is unfolding right now. Your eyes are locked in on your phone screen as you mull over the text that’s displayed there.

            Are you free tonight? Would love to sit down and catch up, want to talk about things.

            You don’t have the number saved in your phone but you know exactly who it is. It’s the same shitty ex you ran into two nights ago, the same one who now thinks you’re fucking the Winter Soldier. Before you’ve even considered responding, a second message from the same unsaved number rolls in.

            I’ll be at the bar we used to go to, the one off of 83rd street, in an hour. Hope to see you there.

            The way your face scrunches up in confusion at the sight of the two texts on your phone screen piques Bucky’s interest as he steps off of the elevator and uses the collar of his t-shirt to dab sweat off of his neck. He’s just finished a pretty strenuous workout and had every intention of heading straight to his room to shower and spend the rest of the night in there, but he can’t ignore the feeling of some kind of invisible string tugging him in your direction. It was only two nights ago that he pressed himself against you in the grocery store and pretended like he knew what it’s like to have you in his bed.  It was only two nights ago that you became a near constant thought in the back of his mind.

            “Don’t tell me he texted you.” Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. You lift your gaze from your phone screen and lean back into the couch cushions, attempting to look perfectly at ease in his presence. Truth be told, you’ve been a little on edge around him since the night in the grocery store, but you don’t know why. Maybe because he saw you in such an embarrassing and vulnerable moment, in your own personal hell.

            “He didn’t text me.” You lie, watching him carefully as the elevator doors close behind him and he takes the few steps across the room to reach the sectional you’re currently lounging on. It’s odd to see him sink into the opposite end of the piece of furniture so comfortably, like he’s such a normal guy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sit in the living room of his own free will, and it’s a sight to see.

            “You’re a bad liar.” Bucky huffs. His expression turns thoughtful as he thinks back to his encounter with your ex that night. The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up into a smile when he remembers the way the guy practically shrank when he heard that the two of you like to fuck raw. “What does he want?” Bucky seems to have a sixth sense about this shit, so you decide to go with it and tell him the truth, see where it gets you.

            “He said he wants to catch up and talk about things.”

            “Right after seeing you with another guy.” Bucky points out, hoping you’ll see where this is going. You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest.

            “I guess so, or maybe it’s unrelated. People break up and then discuss it later for closure sometimes, it’s a thing, Bucky.”

            “So, you’re going?”

            “I haven’t decided yet.” You answer honestly. You watch as Bucky nods slowly, as if he’s digesting the information and deciding what to do with it. He uses the collar of his t-shirt to wipe a bit of sweat away from his neck again, drawing your gaze down to the flexing of his bicep. You’re quick to avert your gaze back up to his eyes, but the satisfied smirk on his face tells you that he caught you looking.

            “We’re going.” Bucky decides, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty hair. The bewildered look that takes over your face says it all.

            “What the hell do you mean we’re going? There’s no we here, it’s just me.”

            “I meant exactly what I said, we’re going.”

---

            You stand in the garage of the compound, where everyone’s various vehicles are stored away safely. Your fingers pick at the frays of your black jeans absentmindedly as you lean against a concrete pillar, waiting for Bucky. You know you should just get in your own car and leave without him, there’s absolutely no good that will come out of letting him tag along for this. Yet, something in the back of your mind is tugging at you to stay and wait for him, to see what might come of this. Looking up at your reflection in the car window a few feet away from you, you take in the sight of your little ensemble. You’re wearing dark jeans paired with a tight little long-sleeved crop top that shows the tiniest bit of your midriff. You wanted to wear something fairly plain yet something that showed a little skin, so this is what you settled on.

            Unbeknownst to you, Bucky’s outfit for tonight will go well with your own. He’s wearing dark jeans as well, but with a dark t-shirt and black leather jacket. As the elevator carries him down to the lowest floor of the compound, he has a brief second of clarity where he asks himself what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. First, he went against every rational thought in his mind when he pretended to be your boyfriend in a damn grocery store. Then, he spent two nights thinking about what it might’ve been like if he actually had been fucking you raw like he’d told to your ex he was. Those two nights ruined him. You ruined him. It took less than 48 hours for his mind to become completely preoccupied with you.

            When the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open to let him into the private parking garage beneath the compound, his eyes fall on you instantly. Fuck. One look at you and he’s immediately decided that you’re not taking a car, no, you’re taking his bike. Hell, you’re dressed near-perfectly for it. The only issue is that bit of smooth skin you have showing beneath the hem of your little top, he’s not going to take you out on his bike and risk ruining that perfect skin of yours with road rash.

            The ding of the elevator draws your attention to your right, where Bucky is stepping into the parking garage looking totally different than when you saw him upstairs half an hour ago. His messy hair has been washed and dried, his flesh and metal biceps are hidden within the sleeves of his leather jacket, and his neck is no longer glistening with a sheen of sweat. You’re unashamedly focusing on the way his jeans are accentuating the muscles of his thighs when he starts stripping off his leather jacket.

            “Put this on.” He says as he holds the jacket out to you with one hand, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans with the other to fish out the key for his bike. Your eyes widen as you stare at the jacket in his outstretched hand. Shaking your head, you take a step back from him.

            “Why?”

            “Because you’re not riding on the back of my bike with skin showing, it’s not safe.”

            “The back of your bike? Bucky, we’re taking a car.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky can’t ignore the way your breasts are slightly pushed up by the action, a hint of cleavage peeking out over the lowcut neckline of your top. He quickly averts his gaze back to his motorcycle that stands a few feet in front of you both, a sigh leaving his lips at your stubbornness.

            “Just put on the damn jacket.” He says, looking over at you one more time, but this time with a softened expression. You don’t know why you comply and take the jacket from him, but you do. It’s warmed from his body heat when you slip your arms into it and the way it engulfs you and pulls down on your shoulders with a bit of weight is almost comforting.

            The motorcycle ride to the bar, however, is anything but comforting. The only other time you’ve ever been so close to Bucky was that night at the grocery store when he cozied up behind you for show. But this felt different. This involved your chest pressed against his back, your inner thighs brushing against his hips, and your arms wrapped around his torso. This felt intimate. It felt the same way to Bucky and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried. When he stopped at a redlight in the city, you let your hold around his abdomen relax for a moment. Your hands slid down to rest on the tops of his thighs as you remained pressed against his back, and he was praying for the light to turn green again before one of your hands had a chance to shift and find out how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. He can only blame himself for the torture, since he was the one that insisted you take the bike.

            When you turn onto the right street, you’re quick to tap Bucky’s thigh with your hand, completely missing the way he tenses up beneath your unexpected touch. You use that same hand to point to a small parking garage across the street from the bar that you’ll be heading into, and Bucky gets the signal. It’s only two minutes later that he’s parking his bike on the third floor of the garage and trying to keep his eyes off of you as you stand beside the bike, removing your helmet carefully. Some part of him can’t help but think that you’re being so careful because you want to look your best when you waltz into the bar to meet your ex, and he fucking hates it. He has the sudden urge to mess your hair up and send you in there looking like shit. But that urge only makes him think about all of the ways he could mess your hair up. He could grab you by it and pull you against him, he could run his hands through it and rake it into a ponytail while you’re on your knees for him…shit. He just volunteered to drive you to the bar to meet your ex. He can’t do a damn thing.

            You hand Bucky your helmet and immediately start smoothing down your hair, seeing the look of disdain he gives you but choosing to ignore it. He had no obligation to be here with you tonight, but he insisted, so he has to put up with it.

            “You don’t have to go in with me, I can do this on my own.” You say, hoping Bucky will choose to wait for you in the parking garage rather than go inside the bar with you.

            “What are you planning to do?” Bucky asks, swinging his leg over as he dismounts the bike and joins you on the concrete floor. He stands in front of you, slipping his gloves off and resting them on the seat of the bike before reaching under the chin of his helmet to undo the strap there. Your eyes drift to the veins on his flesh hand and golden accents on his vibranium hand as you formulate a believable response.

            “Hear him out, give him closure or whatever he’s here for.”

            “Whatever he’s here for?” Bucky repeats your words almost sarcastically, scoffing beneath his helmet. When he pulls it off and rests it on the seat next to his gloves, you can see he’s scowling. “Why are you playing dumb? He’s here for you.”

            “No, he isn’t. He’s with someone else now, and he thinks I am too.” You point out. A low chuckle rumbles past Bucky’s lips as he runs a hand through his hair and starts toward the concrete staircase on the other end of the floor.

            “That’s exactly why he’s doing this, because he thinks you’re with someone else and he can’t stand it.” Bucky sounds so sure of himself, as if he’s experienced something like this before. In fact, he sounds so sure that it makes you wonder if he really has experienced this before.

            “You think he’s jealous? You saw the girl he was with, didn’t you?” You question, falling into step next to Bucky. His leather jacket still sits heavy on your shoulders but giving it back to him hasn’t even crossed your mind yet. Bucky’s hoping you’ll forget about it and keep it on when you walk in and sit down across from that piece of shit ex you’re here for.

            “She doesn’t have shit on you and he knows it.” His words leave your lips parted and your eyes widening in surprise as he reaches the staircase and starts heading down in front of you. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. For the most part, you’ve only ever heard him talk about you with an air of annoyance or indifference, but you could swear that what he just said was almost complimentary. If you could see the grimace on Bucky’s face, you’d know you were right. When he saw the blonde in the grocery store, he wanted to laugh at the way the guy had downgraded after losing you. She was pretty, sure, but you glow like the fucking sun even on your worst day.

            “So, what should I be doing here tonight then?” You ask, knowing Bucky probably has a plan in mind if he came all this way just to witness what’s about to go down.

            “Showing him that you don’t need him, that you’re better off without him.” You reach the bottom of the stairs and step out onto the sidewalk across from the bar. Bucky turns to face you as you scan the area for a crosswalk.

            “And how do I do that?”

            “For starters…” Bucky says, stepping closer to you and grabbing the front of his leather jacket that you’re still sporting, “keep this on.”

---

            Bucky’s been standing at the bar for the last fifteen minutes, nursing both a beer and an aching jaw. The ache is from how hard he’s been clenching his teeth together since your ex strolled in and took the seat across from you at a little two-seater table across the room. Of course, the guy showed up without his new girl. And, of course, he’s been trying like hell to get you to smile and laugh at whatever half-assed jokes he’s been cracking since he sat down. Bucky knew the guy wasn’t after closure.

            He watches with a less-than-pleased look on his face as the guy leans his elbows on the table and rests his hands a little too close to yours, but you don’t pull away. You’re sitting facing Bucky’s direction, yet you haven’t once let your eyes flit up to meet his. It’s infuriating. Bucky strains his ears to pick out your conversation through the din of the usual bar chatter around him. He listens intently as the guy tells you that it was nice to run into you at the grocery store, that he didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, that he missed the way you laughed. What a fucking ass. If Bucky remembers correctly, from overhearing gossip among the team, the guy had you nearly head over heels for him, and then one day he pulled the rug out from under you in and instant. He never even gave you much of a reason why. He simply called you up, ended the relationship over the phone, and a week later you heard through the grapevine that he’d met someone else. Why you felt compelled to meet the guy here tonight, Bucky will never understand. He doesn’t think the prick deserves even a minute of your time.

            “So, you’re really seeing someone else now?” The man’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Bucky’s sensitive ears, but he continues to focus on your conversation anyway. Bucky has to know how you’ll respond. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you push a stray lock of hair back over your shoulder, over the shoulder of his leather jacket, and then you blush. Why are you blushing? Bucky’s heart starts to race in the slightest because he can’t figure out if you’re blushing at the idea of you and him being together or at your ex prying into your personal life.

            “Yeah, he uh…at the grocery store, he…” You stutter through your answer. Like Bucky previously said, you’re a bad liar. The pink showing through the skin of your cheeks darkens another shade as you look away from your ex. Your eyes finally land on Bucky, who’s now standing at the bar facing you head-on. He holds your gaze assuredly and gives you a small nod, letting you know that you’re saying the right things. Somehow, just making eye contact with him and getting that small nod of approval calms your nerves.

            “Right, I remember. I guess I kind of thought that was a joke.”

            “A joke?” You ask, a bit offended at your ex’s confession. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck and lets out an awkward laugh before leaning back in his chair comfortably and taking a sip of his drink.

            “Yeah, I mean the guy said you only ever fuck raw. You never once asked me to fuck you raw. It just didn’t sound believable.” Huh. You’re silent for a moment as you sip on your own drink and let your gaze float back to Bucky once more, unaware that he’s just heard every word that the man said. The two of you stare at each other with some kind of…tension in the air between your table and the bar. Honestly, if you and Bucky were actually together in some alternate universe where you didn’t find each other incredibly annoying from the start, you think you would love to let him fuck you without protection. Something about it just sounds so filthy and enticing. But when you imagine it with the man that’s currently sitting in front of you, the man who promised you a lifetime and then kicked you to the curb like a broken piece of furniture, you cringe. No, you never asked him to take off the condom, and you probably never would have. Truthfully, that should’ve been a sign.

            Bucky’s eyes analyze the two of you as you put on a tight-lipped smile and then relax in your seat, fiddling with the zipper of the leather jacket draped around your frame.

            “It didn’t sound believable?” You ask softly, looking up through your lashes in a way that makes Bucky’s cock twitch, and he’s not even the one you’re looking at. When you do flit your eyes over to him, he can sense the change in your demeanor instantly. You’re not coming off so lighthearted and timid now, you’re giving off an air that says you-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-I-am anymore. “When I look at you, I can’t even fathom the two of us having unprotected sex. It never once crossed my mind to ask you for that. But when I look at him?” You let your gaze travel over to Bucky once more, and this time your ex catches on. He turns in his chair, scanning the bar behind him until he sees the super soldier leaning against the bar with a smug smile on full display. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.”

---

            Bucky’s leather jacket weighing on your shoulders, his body warmth seeping through his t-shirt and offering you reprieve from the wind that’s hitting you both head-on, his right hand reaching back to grip the side of your thigh as he weaves his bike skillfully in and out of traffic on the way back to the compound. All of those things are mixing and swirling together to create a near suffocating tension. You’re focusing on keeping your helmet from bumping into the back of his and even more than that, on keeping your mind out of the damn gutter. What you’d said back at the bar, the final thing you’d said before your ex realized he had no chance at getting back together with you, it was true. When you look at Bucky, you can’t stop imagining him fucking you without anything between your body and his. You don’t know when that started or when it might end, but it’s true. So, you left with him, climbing onto the back of his bike much more willingly than you had earlier in the evening. Not because you wanted to be close to him, but because you wanted to get home as fast as possible so you could get the hell away from him. Where on earth did this new found attraction come from? Why was your mind betraying your body with every single glance in his direction? Fuck physiology.

            Bucky can almost hear you overthinking behind him as he turns off of the interstate and onto a quiet, private road leading up to the compound. Hell, he’s overthinking too. He heard what you said at the bar, and he saw the look in your eyes when you said it. Had you been thinking about him the same way he’d been thinking about you since that night at the grocery store. No, there’s no way. If you really had been, then you wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with your ex tonight. Bucky lets out a breath and slows the bike as he nears the entrance to the parking garage. Neither of you said a word when your ex stormed out of the bar, nor did either of you when you made the walk across the street to the public parking garage and started the ride back home. It’s been silent, unbearably silent for too long.

            When Bucky finally parks the bike among the various vehicles owned by your friends and colleagues that reside upstairs, it seems as though you can’t get away from him fast enough. You swing your leg over and dismount the bike quickly before slipping your helmet off and taking a few steps over to the wall to set it on the shelf it originally came from. You’re halfway to the elevator when Bucky speaks, stopping you in your tracks.

            “The jacket, sweetheart.” He says coolly. When you turn around, you see him still sitting on the bike, looking down at the helmet he holds in his hands. It almost bothers you that he isn’t looking back at you. He can call you sweetheart but he can’t lift his eyes to your face? You let out a deep sigh before walking back over to him and standing a foot away from him and the bike. You strip off the leather jacket a bit reluctantly before holding it out to him. You have to admit you feel a bit like you’re missing something without it on now. Bucky takes it without glancing in your direction, and as soon as you turn on your heel to walk away, you can hear him dismounting the bike and setting his own helmet on the shelf. You’ve just hit the button to call the elevator down to the garage when he decides to speak once again. “You’re a bad liar.”

            “What?”

            “You’re a bad liar. I don’t know much about you, but I know that.” Bucky says. You stand in front of the elevator but you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he’s speaking so ominously. You watch him carefully as he turns away from the shelf and faces you, but still doesn’t lift his gaze to meet yours. Instead, he smooths out his leather jacket before laying it over one arm and tucking the keys to his bike into the back pocket of his jeans.

            “What does that have to do with anything?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dart back to the screen above the elevator. It’s still so many floors away from reaching you.

            “I knew you were lying when you told me he hadn’t texted you. I don’t even think your piece-of-shit ex believed you at first when he asked if you were really seeing someone new, you couldn’t even get a full sentence out. You’re a bad liar.” The words pour out of his mouth with ease, as if he pre-planned the entire speech. When you don’t say anything, he finally lifts his eyes to meet your narrowed stare. A shiver runs down your spine, but you blame it on the fact that you’re no longer wearing his jacket. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.” When Bucky repeats your words so perfectly, you can feel all of the color draining from your face. “When you said that, you didn’t stutter, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t lying.”

            “You think I was being honest?” The question leaves your lips with a hint of anger edging each word. Bucky merely shrugs in response, tilting his head to the side as he waits for you to answer your own question, since it’s obvious that he thinks you were being honest. “You think I look at you and imagine you fucking me raw?”

            “Do you?” Bucky taunts, licking his bottom lip before drawing it between his lips and pressing his top teeth into it. Your gaze darts down to his lips against your better judgement, and when your eyes settle back on his, all you see is a reflection of what you’re sure your own eyes are showing. Lust. He thinks about it. He thinks about fucking you raw. In this moment, you’re sure. In fact, he’s thinking about it right now.

            Your feet start moving before you even have a moment to consider the action, they’re carrying you straight toward him, ignoring the elevator that’s just arrived to take you away from him. When you stop a few inches in front of him, he’s staring down at you with a raised brow and building anticipation. He wants your answer.

            “Yes.” You breathe the word out. In an instant, Bucky’s dropping his jacket to the floor and tangling his flesh hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as his pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away and fills your lungs with a fiery burn, yet you don’t want to break for air. You kiss him back, moving your lips to suck along his bottom one as you tilt your head to the right to give each of you better access. Bucky languidly drags the tip of his tongue along your top lip before snaking it lower and letting it delve into your mouth. God, he might’ve imagined fucking you but truthfully, he forgot to imagine kissing you. He never would’ve thought it could be this good. His vibranium arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer into him until his body warmth begins sending tingles across the surface of your skin. Once he has you flush against him, that same cool metal hand begins unwrapping from your back and traveling down until it’s in place to grip a handful of your ass, hard. When you gasp into the kiss, Bucky pulls back and bites down on your bottom lip. Fuck. If you don’t stop him now, he won’t be able to stop himself from having you right here in the garage. As if you’re reading his mind, you place both hands on his chest and pull your head back until there’s an inch of space between your mouths. While your eyes are focused on his pink nose and swollen lips, your mind is focused on what you feel pressing against your thigh. He’s fully erect, his cock straining against the front of his jeans just from kissing you. You could overthink this, let your mind weigh all of the pros and cons of what’s happening right now, and then convince yourself to be responsible and go upstairs to your own room, pretending this never happened. But for some reason, your right hand is already coasting down his chest, over his abs, and sliding between your lower bodies. You find yourself palming the outline of his cock, offering him such a perfect amount of pressure and friction that he can’t help but lean his hips forward and press his cock further into your touch.

            “If you don’t stop now…” Bucky rasps, but his eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lower lip before he’s even finished the sentence, your sensual touch getting the better of him.

            “If I don’t stop now?” You encourage him to say what he wants to say, but you can’t fight the teasing smile that’s beginning to play on your lips.

            “If you don’t stop now, you won’t be able to return all of those pregnancy tests on your next grocery run.” You laugh lightly as you lean in and press a soft kiss against Bucky’s jawline, continuing to rub his erection through the taut fabric of his jeans.             “Are you thinking about fucking me raw, James?” You tease. Bucky groans before opening his eyes and pulling you away from his jaw by your hair. He doesn’t stop you from slowly sliding your hand back and forth along the outline of his cock, but he makes sure you’re looking right in his eyes before he speaks again.

            “Right here in this damn parking garage.”

            Without a single thought in either of your minds, Bucky lets you push your palms flat against his chest and walk him back until he stumbles onto the seat of his motorcycle. In one swift movement, you slip your hand past the waistband of his jeans and boxers and the warm skin of your hand comes into contact with his hard length, without anything between the two of you. Bucky lets out a heady groan and his hands begin moving all on their own, working to unbutton and unzip his jeans to give your hand as much space as possible. As soon as he has his pants undone, you shift your hand and wrap it firmly around his cock, giving it a slow stroke inside of his boxers. When you near the head of it, a bead of precum drips onto the side of your thumb and you smile to yourself as you spread it back over the smooth tip of his cock. What is it about having a man this way that makes a woman feel so damn powerful? Bucky looks at you with a mix of annoyance and awe at the way you’re working his cock so effortlessly yet turning him into putty in your hands. He’ll let you have your fun for now, and then he’ll show you that he can have the same effect on you.

            The moment your eyes lock onto his, he slides his right hand along the side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss, the taste of your lips and the feel of your hand stroking back and forth along his hard-on is nearly enough to send him over the edge, and he inhales sharply, tugging his lips away from your own.

            “I’m not going to have much use for those pregnancy tests if we keep going like this, am I?” You ask jokingly, as you remove your hand from Bucky’s pants and raise it up to your face. Bucky runs a hand through his hair as he blows out a breath and watches you intently. Your thumb, still a bit shiny and wet from his precum, ventures dangerously close to your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on Bucky’s as you use that same thumb to tug down your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth and sucking.

            “Oh, fuck.” Bucky groans, his rationality fleeing as his own flesh hand delves into his pants and begins mimicking your actions from a moment ago. The way your eyes follow his movements, your pupils blown wide with lust as you watch him touch himself, it’s too damn much for him. He grabs you by the hair once again, in that desperate, needy way that you’re quickly growing to love, and pulls you against his chest, kissing you as fervently as the first time. However, this kiss doesn’t last. He pulls away from you in an instant and suddenly, his hand is on your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees. Before you reach the floor, he uses the toe of his boot to slide his discarded leather jacket across the floor to cushion your knees. So fucking thoughtful.

            Bucky stands up with you on your knees in front of him and his bike resting on its kickstand behind him. His eyes never part from your face as he pushes his already undone pants and boxers down his thighs just enough to free his cock from their confines. Your breath hitches in your throat as soon as you lay eyes on it, as soon as you lay eyes on the sheer size of it. Bucky doesn’t make a move to stop you as you reach up with both hands and take hold of his length, using one hand to begin stroking it from the base to the tip while your other hand grips his thigh. Your eyes widen at the way it looks even bigger in your hand, which is a mental image that Bucky will probably be recalling every day for the rest of his life. You’re more than ready to lean in and take him in your mouth, to experience every second of what it’s like to suck him off, but his gentle touch halts your movements. His flesh hand softly cups the side of your face as he lets his thumb caress the skin over your cheekbone.

            “You’re so much bigger than he was.” You whisper, your eyes traveling up Bucky’s torso until you’re getting lost in his gaze. It’s true. Your ex was…well below average in this department. But Bucky? God, Bucky is so far above average it’s actually making you wonder if you can even fit half of him in your mouth. Bucky chuckles lowly before tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and then copying your earlier move. He slips the pad of his thumb between your lips and watches with hooded eyes as you eagerly accept it, sucking on it gently. Fuck. He’s so ruined. Only a moment later, he’s standing there with his head thrown back and a string of curses are falling from his mouth as you bob your head back and forth, letting his cock slide along your tongue and brush against the back of your throat repeatedly. He’s fully lost in the pleasure of your mouth. He’s so lost, in fact, that when you grip his thighs with both hands and lean into him as far as you possibly can, letting your nose brush against his lower stomach and your throat tighten around his shaft as you gag, he lets out a groan that reverberates through the parking garage and sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

            “Fuck, do that again.” He rasps, finally looking down at you as you pull your head back until only the tip is resting on your tongue. A smile plays behind your eyes as you dare to look up at him. He can’t help himself. Both of his hands move to run through your hair, encouraging you to do exactly what he just said. You repeat your actions, moving your head forward and taking his entire length in until you gag a second time. But this time, Bucky holds your head still there for two seconds. His eyes squeeze shut as your throat grips his cock tighter and tighter, the sensation bringing him so close to the edge that he abruptly pulls back and leaves only half of his length for you to taste. “Just like that, shit.” Another minute of your mouth doing exactly what Bucky wants and he’s fighting with every cell in his body to delay the inevitable. He wanted to fuck you raw, truly, it was his intention from the moment you admitted you thought about it. But having you like this? Having you on your knees for him, telling him that his dick is bigger than the last piece of shit you were with? God, he’s so close to cumming in your mouth that it almost hurts.

            “I’m so fucking close.” He groans the words out as if he’s in pain, as if he’s holding back because he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. That just won’t do. So, you release him from your mouth with a pop and start working him with your hand as you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.

            “You don’t want to cum in my mouth?” You ask innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. It’s the same way you looked in the bar earlier and he feels his last bit of resolve crumbling. He could easily cum in your mouth, but that’s just not what he needs right now. In that desperate, needy way that you love, Bucky grasps your hair and pulls you to your feet. A whimper leaves your lips as his cock slips out of your hand.

            “No.” Bucky says calmly, turning you around and pushing your back forward until your hands land on the seat of his bike. “I’m going to give you a reason to use one of those damn pregnancy tests.”

            He’s swift in pulling down your jeans and panties with both hands, and then lining his cock up with your entrance and making you think he’s going to fuck you. But no, Bucky lets the tip of his cock gather the wetness that you’ve been sitting in since you left the bar, and then he begins chasing his release with his own hand. You let out a needy whine, pushing your hips back against him and hoping his cock will just happen to notch inside of you and slide all the way in, but Bucky isn’t going to let it happen until he’s ready.

            He has a plan. He’s going to fill you with his cum first, then use his fingers, his tongue, and his cock to fuck it back into you after. The next time your run into your ex, Bucky wants you to be so fucking pregnant that the guy loses his goddamn mind.

There will be no tag list for the smut menu requests.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

[thoughtssvt]

first times with nanami kento

cw : hand holding, kissing, oral, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie, aftercare, gender neutral reader with AFAB terminology in reference to genitals

formatted in a half headcanon half fic style

nanami kento is a gentleman.

nanami kento is the type to be direct with things he wants. he’d wait outside of your place of work so he could walk you home. asking you to wait a moment as you stepped on ahead of him just so he could ask you if it was alright to hold your hand.

nanami kento didn’t steal kisses. his eyes would linger on your face as his heart swelled and skipped a beat. his fingers would dance over your knuckles, “may i kiss you?” he’d ask just above a whisper, only moving to cup your face in his hands when you squeaked a yes. he’d always asked for kisses every time after that. “you don’t have to ask every time,” you giggled nonchalantly like you were teasing him with no real bite to it. his ashen brows would furrow. “of course i do.” he’d wave his hand in dismissal as you stuttered an explanation. “with me you will get used to it,” and you did.

nanami kento seemed to be playing by the rules of some unspoken book. he was a gentleman but after countless dates that always began with permission to hold your hand and ended with a gentle kiss you were beginning to wonder if he was even attracted to you.

you’d come up with a plan to take things to the next step. you’d invited him in, refusing to let the date end with a parting kiss in the frame of your front door. you’d kept the pleasantries before the two of you ended up on your living room couch. “is it alright if i kiss you?” he asked like you heard countless times before and like all the other times you said yes. this time you sat a little closer, this time you rested your hand on his thigh. “i want to… do something tonight,” you’d said with pink tinted cheeks to which kento had listened intently. “well, go on,” he said gently, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk that sent fire flooding into your gut. he’d taken your hand in his, motioning you to stand, setting a pillow down in front of him before leading you between his legs.

nanami kento was big.

you’d just about cursed, screaming in your head how he should’ve warned you about how big he was before you got between his legs, but he was patient. he cupped your face in his palm as you kissed down his shaft, his breath hitching as you licked a steady stripe from the base of his cock right to the tip. he lent you a stable hand at the nape of your neck and for a moment you were worried that he would push you down further, make you take more of his length. it had you rubbing your thighs together, your core growing wet, but you couldn’t really decide if you were disappointed or not when he made no effort to stretch your mouth. as you bobbed your head up and down you’d realized that he was reminding you that he was there with you in the moment. you didn’t need to take more than you could handle if you didn’t want to. with your nerves at ease a newfound excitement grew in your chest. you reveled in the sounds he made. the soft huffs and “fucks” especially the, “you’re doing so good for me, taking me so good it’s driving me crazy.”

you’d looked up at him with half lidded eyes, both of you panting softly. it was his turn to please you.

nanami kento gave you one simple instruction. “lay back and feel good.”

he caged you between his body and the bed, lips intertwining with yours in a heated kiss. humming deep in his chest as he trailed them down your body. just for that moment while his tongue was busy circling your nipples he’d let you look away from him, throw your arm across your eyes because you don’t know if you’ve ever felt something this good.

“keep your eyes on me,” he whispered from where he laid between your bare legs. “watch me,” he rasped as he planted soft kisses along your inner thigh, each getting closer and closer to your heat. you couldn’t help the whine that escaped you as your eyes met and he leaned in to rest his tongue on the growing wet spot of your underwear. he paused for a second, his eyes fluttered closed, the softest moan buzzing through his lips as he savored his first taste of you.

“can you lift your hips for me?” he asked when he was done teasing and you could no longer discern your wetness from his saliva. your hips snapped up almost embarrassingly quick. it was then that you realized what little he’d done had already turned your legs to jelly, your thighs shaking as he pulled the fabric off you so painstakingly slow, though not without a word of praise for how good you did.

nanami kento liked to take his time, you’d realized. he pressed his tongue firmly against your sex, leisurely mapping out each fold, softly hushing you as you bucked your hips when he’d gotten just close enough to your clit but not quite there. he’ll get there, he reassured you. licks then became open mouthed kisses, contented hums soon following as he sunk lower to your weeping hole. he tasted it on his hips first before dipping a relaxed muscle against your entrance. he moaned. much louder than any of his previous sounds.

nanami kento liked to take his time, but that didn’t mean that he could always hold himself back. one taste of you from the source had him in a daze. he couldn’t help himself from moving up to lave at your clit, coaxing more of your sweetness out and onto the sheets below you. you were suspended in a deliciously torturous rhythm of gentle sucks against your bud and his tongue fucking into your slick entrance. he intertwined your hand with his as your shot down toward him when the pleasure became too much, resting your clasped hands on your hips as he continued to eat.

nanami kento was greedy, but that would come some other time. one of these days he’ll spend a whole work day between your legs, a thumb rubbing circles onto your clit so he’d have an endless supply of your nectar. for now he had something else in mind. he opened you up on his fingers, tongue swirling spirals around your sensitive button. when you came he refused to slow his movements until your legs twitched uncontrollably and your moans just about turned into whimpers of pain. he pulled away slowly, licking his lips clean before slipping his fingers out of you, taking his time to lick each digit clean wanting to get as much of you as he could get.

“i’d like to do that again, but i’m assuming you only have one more in you,” he whispered in your ear with a smug grin and he was right. all you wanted now was to be filled with him.

he propped himself up on his left forearm, placing it in the space between your head and your shoulder as he gathered your slick onto his cock, sliding between your folds, letting your body prepare for his intrusion. he’d kept a close eye on you as he pushed in, letting out a shaky breath as the head of his cock popped in. his free hand found its place on the other side of your head as he slipped in inch by inch, immediately stopping at the slightest sign of discomfort.

he forced himself to stop the growl that rumbled within him when he reached the hilt, stopping to wait for your comfort. you were milking him as your body adjusted to his size. he was torn, unable to decide whether he should look away from you to calm his instincts or keep his eyes on you because he didn’t want to miss a single second of this moment. he chose the latter.

his movements were gentle when you assured him that you were okay and that he could move. he’d started with minute rolls of his hips, then short shifts of his hips out and in until all the discomfort dissipated from your face and your whimpers turned into enticing moans. he’d rested his weight onto his forearms, clasping his hands under your head as he craned his neck down to press his lips against yours, his hips moving in sync with your body, thrusts picking up the pace when he knew your moans yearned for more.

nanami kento trusted you when you stuttered for him to cum inside. he’d give you anything you wanted, especially this. he licked the pad of his thumb, bringing it down to toy with your clit as he kept the pace of his thrusts. he fucked you through your orgasm, slowing when his own hit and he began filling you with warm spurts. he snapped his hips with every upstroke making sure to fill you like you wanted. he only pulled out when he began to feel his erection flagging, cooing a shush as you gasped softly, overstimulation uncaring of the fact that he was pulling out and had no further plans of continuing.

you barely noticed his momentary absence until he was between your legs again with a warm wash cloth gently cleaning you up. he massaged your sore hips, letting your legs naturally straighten as the muscles relaxed. he wiped down the rest of your body with another cloth, draping a soft blanket over both of your bodies when he was done. he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him. he slowly introduced the conversation of what you liked and what you didn’t like– one list dramatically shorter than the other. the air around you comfortable, soft giggles making your shoulders bounce as your legs tangled together.

you’d confessed that you were beginning to think that he wasn’t attracted to you, which he vehemently denied despite your assurance that you now knew that wasn’t the case. you’d figured out that nanami kento was a gentleman. he wouldn’t dare do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but once he was given the opportunity he would show you just how much he desired you.

A/N : ooo this is the first nsfw piece i'm posting on here how exciting. I hope you enjoyed!

nanami hc pt. 1 | nanami x reader masterlist

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#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanamin #jujustu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x gender neutral reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #nanami smut #kento smut #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk kento #jujutsu kento #nanami headcanons #thoughtssvt's thoughts and head completely empty

[nadvs]

looking to score (one-shot)

pairing footballcaptain! rafe cameron x female headcheerleader! reader

rating explicit 18+

summary rafe has been flirting with you all season long. just when you think he’s never going to actually seal the deal, you do something to make him dangerously jealous and he realizes he’ll need you to prove who you’re loyal to.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The state championship game coming up means there are two sure things you can count on.

One, you have to hold twice as many cheerleading practices to make sure your routines are clean and flawless.

And two, everyone on campus has Rafe Cameron’s name in their mouth.

He’s the starting quarterback, the captain of the football team, the fucking pride and joy of your college. For him, it’s awesome. He loves the attention. As for you, you’ve given up on trying to stifle your eye-rolls any time someone mentions him.

Rafe is the cockiest man you’ve ever known. Your interactions with him have been limited, but telling. He’s been teasing you all season, flirting and acting like he’ll finally put a move on you. But then he never does.

Before every home game, as team captains, you stand first in your respective line in the tunnelled corridor that leads out to the football field. This gives Rafe a nice few minutes to flirt with you and does he love to lay it on thick.

Today, finally, it’s the day of the championship game, and your college is hosting. The campus is buzzing with excitement, colorful signs in the stands, every parking lot full.

You’re waiting in your usual spot. The crowds in the stands outside are roaring and the conversations of cheerleaders and college staff are bouncing around the concrete tunnel.

The players aren’t here yet, but you know it’s only a matter of minutes before Rafe leads them down the hall, pausing next to you, messing with you like always.

It’s almost torment the way he works you up, then does nothing about it. Nonetheless, you look forward to this little routine you two have and hope he puts his money where his mouth is one day.

Rafe lives for the buzz before a home meet. The local fame he amasses, the promise of an hour-long game where he’s celebrated for his aggression, the opportunity to talk to you before he steps out onto the field… it’s electrifying.

When he saunters down the corridor towards you, all height and breadth and fucking ego, his eyes trail down your body like he’s imagining what’s underneath your cheerleading uniform.

“Damn,” he lowly mutters to you. “I swear, that skirt keeps getting shorter.” He leans back against the hard wall, waiting for his cue to rush the field.

“Wishful thinking,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Rafe soaks in the sight of your cleavage, the way your tits press together under your v-neck top when you stand like that. His blood runs hot like it always does when he sees you.

“This is a big game,” he says. He’s rolling his helmet in his big hands, his shoulder pads wide, the red of his jersey somehow making his blue eyes look even bluer. “You shouldn’t be distracting me.”

“Do you ever give it a rest?” you ask. He bites his lip, gaze dropping to your legs.

“We both know you don’t want that.” His smirk is so cocky, his dimples so taunting, that you have to look away from him. He’s almost too hot.

“Got me there, Rafe,” you say sarcastically. When you roll your eyes at him, his dirty mind immediately imagines you doing that from pleasure while he fucks you.

“Good, get used to saying my name,” he chuckles.

“Because I’ll be screaming it later, right?” you quip. “Original.” Regardless, you feel yourself flush a little when you imagine him on top of you.

“I’m just sayin’, be prepared,” he says, amused as hell. The band starts playing the familiar entrance music in the stands, prompting you to get ready to run out.

“You want me so bad, it’s embarrassing.” You kneel over to pick your pompoms off the ground, purposely perking your ass in his direction. He feels his groin tighten at the view.

“I’m not embarrassed,” he says. You meet his eyes and can’t stifle the smile on your face, shaking your head as he pulls his helmet over his head.

Goddamn, he wish he knew if he actually had a chance with you. But he hasn’t ever made a real move, sure you’d reject him in a heartbeat. It’d be too big a blow to his ego.

The game is a close one through all four periods. You and your team cheer on the sidelines as the sun starts to set, trying to weaken the thick tension that stretches across the field.

Rafe plays fast and rough like usual, but you’ve noticed he has a sudden rivalry with one of the opposing players. Every time he gets even remotely close to number 33, who’s clearly been tasked with taking Rafe down, he’s shouting at him or shoving him.

His aggression is hot. Always has been. You look away from the field as if someone can read your mind.

Of course, it’s Rafe’s touchdown that wins the game for the home team. You’re elated, the cheering and applause and energy around you magnetizing.

You and the other cheerleaders storm the field, followed by the marching band and everyone on the coaching team.

In the crowd, you see Rafe with his helmet off, smiling the biggest you’ve ever seen. The stadium lights are strong, washing him in a bright light, showcasing the handsome planes of his face.

“Don’t rub it in, huh?” you hear. You turn to see a player from the other team smirking at you, his helmet hanging off his fingers.

“Kind of my job,” you reply, gesturing to your pompoms. He laughs, nodding as he looks down. Okay, he’s cute.

Rafe’s impulse is to look for you, brag to you about his win and about how you have no choice but to cheer for him.

When his eyes land on you, you’re standing on the field looking so fucking cute with your hip cocked, smiling at…

His blood boils. You’re smiling at another guy. The guy who’s been dogging him and pissing him off the whole game. Number 33. Why the fuck are you smiling at him?

Rafe can’t control himself. He starts to push through the crowd to get you the hell away from that asshole, when the coach stops him, talking to him about their play.

He loses sight of you and it makes every sore muscle in his body tense.

When the team heads inside, Rafe doesn’t even have the patience to peel off his muddy uniform. He leaves his helmet in his locker and rushes out of the room to find you.

He’s pissed off at your lack of loyalty. He’d like to think it’s because he cares about the team that much, but no. You’re his. Some dickhead, especially one on the opposing team, isn’t going to flirt his way into your pants.

When he spots you walking through one of the hallways that surrounds the stadium, he rushes to you and grabs your wrist.

You look up to see Rafe staring down at you with hard eyes.

“Why were you talking to that asshole?” he asks over the sound of the chattering crowds surrounding you.

Excitement burns through you. Is he talking about the player who flirted with you? Damn. He’s jealous. You give him a gratified smile.

“Only asshole I talked to today was you,” you reply.

“What did he say?” he demands, voice low. What’s worse is that you fucking smiled at him, a smile that should only be reserved for him, but he won’t say that out loud.

“He was hitting on me,” you reply, smirking. “Hopefully he’ll actually do something about it. Unlike you.”

Your response throws him for a second. If you want him to follow through, to finally resolve months of sexual tension, he’ll gladly fucking do it.

He angrily yanks you towards him and you allow him to guide you through the throngs of spectators.

Rafe has one thing in mind. He knows where the visiting teams park their bus. And he’s taking you there.

He roughly pushes open the heavy door to the back parking lot, pulling you behind him. The evening air is warm and the area is dark and fenced up and all you can hear is his panting.

Hard hands find your hips and push you against the cold, metal wall of the bus. Rafe’s finally facing you again, his stare penetrating. Your heart is hammering with anticipation.

“You want me to do something about it, huh?” he rasps. He pushes his hips against yours, grinding against you.

“Fucking finally,” you breathe.

His lips are on yours as he huffs a chuckle, unable to believe that you’re crumbling for him this damn easily.

His tongue runs against yours and his body feels so firm, the smell of his sweat musky and so fucking sexy. You feel the bulge of his hardening cock against your groin and you buck against him.

His hand eagerly runs up your thigh, below your skirt. When his fingers press against your cunt, you jolt, your breath stopping for a second.

“You wet for me?” he asks, pads of his fingers pushing up against your entrance. His breath is hot, his nose nudging yours. Arousal coils in your stomach, tight and hot.

You feel so soft and moist through your panties. Rafe knows he won’t be able to simply touch you for much longer. He needs to be inside you.

“Mhm,” you can only desperately hum.

His other hand moves from your hip to your face, squeezing your cheeks together as he looks down at you.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply clearly, eyes boring into his.

Excitement pools in you when he moves his hands away to pull down his pants. You eagerly hike up your skirt and yank down your underwear.

It’s so fucking insane to be doing this out here. Someone could come through the door in a second. But the risk of it just adds to the thrill.

You revel in the sight of Rafe’s hard, curved cock in his hand. He’s fucking huge. You can admit the ego is warranted.

Rafe loves your expression, the way your lips are parted in surprise.

“Damn, look at you,” he huffs with a smirk. “You want this dick so bad.”

You eagerly lift your knee for him and he takes the invitation immediately, holding your leg up against his hip.

The feeling of him lining himself up against your cunt is mind-blowing. He pushes into you slowly, every inch feeling better than the last.

“How long have you wanted this?” he grunts once he bottoms out.

“Feels like fucking forever,” you admit breathlessly. “What took you so long?”

“Just be grateful you’re getting it,” Rafe replies. So cocky. Typical.

He pulls back then thrusts into you. Hard. You let out a strained sob and he inhales sharply at how nicely you’re squeezing around him.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper. The leg holding you up is wobbly already, making you grateful his hand is firmly hooked underneath your knee.

“You think that idiot can fuck you like this?” he says, driving in and out of you.

“No,” you say, and you mean it. You’re not sure anybody can pound into you so effortlessly, with so much passion.

You dip your head back, eyes squeezed shut while he fucks you.

“Don’t fucking talk to him again,” he orders, his hand rubbing over your chest and roughly kneading your tits.

This jealousy, this ownership, is so fucking hot. He continues to pull in and out so hard and so fast that you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I won’t,” you promise. He’s so big inside you, stretching you so nicely, that you feel your stomach tightening already. “Shit. I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it loudly,” he says with a self-satisfied laugh. “And say my name.”

You obey, and when the orgasm rocks through you, your blood runs hot and sparks go off through your entire body. Rafe feels you squeezing him even tighter and he groans, cumming inside you in hot waves, twitching.

You bite your lip as he pulls out, feeling aftershocks of pleasure rocking through you.

Realizing what you’ve just done, that you’re in a fully public area, you frantically pull up your panties and readjust your skirt. Rafe looks amused by your nervousness, slowly getting dressed again.

“That was…” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Rafe leans down, capturing your face in his hands again to kiss you deeply.

A loud bang forces you apart. You see a player from the opposing team stepping out the door, trailed by the rest of his team.

A few seconds earlier, and you’d have been mortified. But Rafe takes the opportunity to kiss you again before taking your hand and pulling you through the door, past the group of guys.

“Get home safe,” Rafe mutters to them with a smirk, his tone taunting and entirely disingenuous. He spots number 33 and smiles at him with nothing but contempt.

He squeezes your hand and tilts his head towards you as the two of you walk by the sullen man.

“Looks like you lost,” Rafe half-laughs, very clearly not talking about the game.

thank you to this anon for inspiring this fic! if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#i was gonna post a series next but i got this one-shot request and i couldn’t stop thinking about it #anyways i’ve discovered that i love college au’s? #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe x y/n #rafe x you

[toruro]

LO$ER=LO♡ER

pt 2

tags: smut (18+), toxic relationship, pet names (princess)

a/n: someone get me out of this toxic!svt brainrot. or maybe send me more asks abt it. either work. if this is incoherent i'm sorry i've been smoking too much tn

thinking about your toxic best friend mingyu.

he's not too bad actually—at least that's what you tell everyone. you wonder if you're maybe trying to convince yourself of it too.

he's the sweetest, really. gets you flowers for any big occasion, treats you for every small accomplishment—he got you the coat you'd been eyeing for ages when you finally got the guts to kick your shitty roommate out, bought you your favorite box cake when you got that small promotion, brought over your go-to boba order when you told him you finished all of your work early and had an extra free day, and—you get it.

mingyu's the best best friend anyone could ask for, honest! which is why you're just a little extra lenient with him when he scared off your last talking stage.

it was an accident! mingyu swears! he tells you he didn't even know that you and jimin were talking like that. (you ignore how there are texts between the two of you from just three days earlier where you told him you were going on a date. mingyu's forgetful, he tells you.) one thing led to the next and the last time you and jimin were hanging out with your group of friends, mingyu might've gotten just a bit too close.

jimin called things off with you the next night. said he can't be friends with someone who's got a puppy on their trail.

all your other friends bring it up too. how you're both just so close. how you've known each other for so long. how you look so nice together. sometimes you shake your head and deny it. tell them "it's not like that!" that you and gyu are "just best friends!"

it's the little things, you've realize. the little things, that lead you to believe that mingyu isn't as sweet as he lets on.

more often that not, mingyu beats you to the punchline, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing your cheeks against his, grinning when he says, "well who wouldn't love their best friend when it's her."

you talked to him about it after the first time he said that. told him he can't let other people think that you're dating 'cause you're not. mingyu got a little pissed. pouted a little. told you that you were being a shitty best friend, 'cause a shitty best friend wouldn't push him away like this.

you haven't brought it up since.

maybe it's because you're scared of being a shitty best friend, as gyu put it—scared of losing him (because are you really anything, if not mingyu's best friend?). maybe it's because you don't wanna fight it anymore.

maybe it's because you're just a little too fond of the feeling of his big, veiny hands running all over your body.

"you like it princess?" mingyu chuckles when he clambers on top of you on his couch, pressing you into the soft cushions. you two share a wet kiss as you throw your head back, legs spreading instinctively to allow him to clamber between your legs.

slowly, he lips leave yours and begin to trail sloppy kisses down your chin, jawline, finally settling on sucking at your neck. you're not quite sure how you ended up in this position, but as your mind grows hazy, you vaguely remember the argument that got you here.

(mingyu might've blocked the guy you were talking to on instagram, from your account at that. you aren't sure how he got your password, but mingyu swears that isn't the point. why don't you trust him? don't you know that he just wants what's best for you? he knows that guy wasn't good enough for you anyways. don't you trust him to know what's best for you? c'mon, let him prove it to you ...)

"see princess?" he murmurs, slipping his hands beneath your shirt and riding the flimsy cloth over your stomach and bra-covered tits. he lifts his head up to gaze down at you, cheeks flushed as your back arches upwards and into his touch as he continues to rub his rough palms all over your torso and soft tits. "i know what's good for you ..."

the words reverberate in your skull when he starts to tug at the waistband of your sweats, pushing them down only a little so he can rub his fingers over your clit through the fabric of your panties. when you moan loudly, mingyu grins.

"there she is ..." he grunts, rubbing tight circles over the growing wetness before slipping his shirt over his head. "c'mon ... lemme be the best best friend," he pleads, and you don't even have a moment to think about what you're doing before you're shoving your pants all the way down so they pool at your knees.

"shit, gyu—please!" you cry out, eyes the painfully large tent that rests between his legs and under his jeans. because if mingyu is anything, it's your best friend, and you'd be damned if you let anything—anyone—get in the way of that.

read pt 2 here!

#svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #svt scenarios #svt x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu x reader #💌 drabbles

[rebelliousstories]

Peachy

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Strong Language, Brief Violence, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 1,785

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: Lucy gets a front row seat to the strange happenings in the Wasteland.

It should be a crime for the day to be this hot. With the sun beating down, it felt like she was going to die rather imminently. But that Ghoul behind her back kept marching her forward whenever she tried to drop. It was not until they made it to some abandoned, two-story building, that the duo was finally able to be granted a moment’s reprieve.

“Sit down Vaultie.” The Ghoul demanded, leading the woman to sit against the worn out walls and dimpled stone. The cool rock felt blessed beneath her body. Even through her Vault-Tech suit insulated her against a lot of the extreme weather, enough was able to slip through for her to begin to cool down.

“That’s a girl. Stayin’ the night here, but I wouldn’ go wanderin’ after dark. A lotta things worse than a ghoul round here.” He spoke once more, starting to gather carve himself a little spot where he could rest.

“Where are we?” Lucy finally asked, voice rasped with dehydration and exhaustion. However, the man did not answer. He simply stretched out his long limbs, and placed his hat over his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

“Where are we?” She pleaded once more, to which the Ghoul was not sympathetic to.

“Hey!” Yelling now, the Ghoul picked his hat up from his eyes and set it back on his head while looking at the girl he held.

“Now, am I gonna have to cut out that tongue in order to get some peace and quiet?” Lucy was taken aback, and could not quite tell if he was joking or not. Taking his moment of silence, the man swept his hat over his eyes once more; but it did not last long. The clattering of something nearby caught the attention of the vault dweller, and surface dweller. With a heaving groan, the Ghoul stood back up, placed his hat on his head, and looked around. Lucy also tried to look, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary for the surface.

“Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time.” He muttered under his breath. Spurs clicked as he walked around and took inventory. But the clattering of a can behind him made the Ghoul pull his pistol and aim. There was nothing behind him, though. Lucy watched intently as the man surveyed his surroundings, and was just a beat too late to warn him about the shadowy figure to his back.

“Behind you!” The Ghoul did not have time to fire off a round. The figure jumped on his back, and locked on. He tried to swivel the creature off, but to no avail. Dropping to a knee, the Ghoul threw his assailant off of hm and on to the ground below. Whoever it was, they were fast. Reaching a leg up, the person managed to get him in a headlock with their legs, and rolled them around until they emerged on top. Pinning his hands down with both of theirs, the attacker shimmied out of the mask covering the bottom half of their face. It was a woman; a really pretty one at that.

“Hiya, Coop.” She teased, switching to a one handed hold on his wrists to snatch his hat off of his head. The piece of clothing was set upon her own head as a lazy smirk was pulled from his face.

“Well, if it ain’t my darling little peach.” He drawled. Once her other hand came down to rest on his wrists again, he switched their placements in the blink of an eye. Now, both of her wrists were in one of his, while his other came to rest behind her head. Cooper bucked the young woman up and off, spinning them around to pin her t the floor.

“Careful with that tone, Ghoul. Someone might think you missed me.” Once again, she was teasing. She spread her legs a little wider to accommodate him, and trailed one of them up to rest along his back. In turn, Cooper leaned down to get right up close to her face.

“Aww, we wouldn’t want that. Now would we, peaches?” A wicked smile decorated his face that she mirrored, and it seemed they were both trapped in their own little world for a time.

“How can you like him like that?” A high, feminine voice broke them free of their trance. Both Wastelanders looked over to the vault dweller with a mix of annoyance, confusion, and upset over being interrupted.

“Hope you’re not thinking of replacing me with that.” The woman, still pinned underneath the Ghoul, spoke. Her words did not sound as harsh as they should have; perhaps it was the smile that still plagued the woman’s face that offered her a softer edge that the usual surface dwellers Lucy had met thus far.

“Believe me, peach. Ain’t nothin’ able to replace you.” Cooper groaned out, letting the woman come to to sit and observe the woman before them.

“Ooo. You got yourself a Vaultie? You know how much they go for?” The woman asked, watching Lucy’s eyes widen in shock and horror. As much as she wanted to keep it going, the woman began laughing as she saw the expression on the vault dweller’s face.

“Nah, ‘m just messing with you. I ain’t got no clue how much y’all are worth. Probably a lot though. Whatcha doin’ travelin’ with this bag o’ bones?” Being friendly was confusing yet refreshing to Lucy, even as the mysterious woman remained tangled up in Cooper’s arms.

“Oh,” Lucy perked up, “well, I’m looking for my father. It’s a really long story but you are by far the nicest person I have met on the surface. My name is Lucy, and you are?” She rattled off, unable to contain her nerves or speech.

“Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve used my real name, I’ve nearly forgotten it. He calls me peach or some variation of it so-” squeaking out, the woman turned to see that Cooper had pinched her side hard in a warning.

“Okay. Not allowed to call me that then.” She supplied her real name afterwards, and saw the vault dweller before her visibly relax.

“Now that that’s out of the way, I bring gifts.” Untangling herself from the Ghoul, she made her way to where her bag was dropped. Lucy guessed that was what they heard falling before the ‘fight’ broke out. She pulled out a few cans of food, presumably, and tossed them to Cooper, however one of the cans was tossed towards Lucy. Reading the front of the label, she took not that it was a Vault-Tech brand of pie filling.

“Sugar, you shouldn’t have.” Cooper drawled, gratefully taking the jerky and chems that were provided.

“Well, figured you’d want a little gift for all your troubles.” Effortlessly, she just kept emptying her bags. Right when you think she is done, she would pull out more from the same place. It was, honestly, a wonder.

“One last thing. Just for us tonight.” Holding a can in her hands, she pulled a knife from her belt to begin cracking it open. The label was long since gone from it, but that didn’t stop them from eagerly tearing into it. Once she was close enough, she sat down and allowed Cooper to take it from her hands. He finished the job of getting the lid off of the can, and let delight take over his scarred features.

“Now, where’d you find this, peach?” He asked, letting her tuck herself under his arm to get closer.

“Trader I went to had a whole shipment of them Georgia. Well, what’s left of it. Anyways, you should be thankful I managed to get some. That one can cost me two hundred and fifty caps.” While his eyes did not bug out of his skull, his brow area did raise considerably when he heard the price.

“Careful, peach. Someone might think you like me.” Cooper stabbed a thick, juicy slice and brought it up to the woman’s lips to let her take a bite off, before bringing the other half of the slice to his own lips. A sinful groan was released from the both of them as they allowed the sugary sweet fruit to explode. It was a taste that Cooper was not sure if he would ever taste again after the bombs destroyed the world as he knew it.

“Is that peach? Is that what it’s supposed to taste like?” She asked, hoping sh had gotten it right. The Ghoul stabbed yet another slice and repeated the process from before as he watched the woman intensely.

“Yep. That is the sweet taste of peach, alright.” With how he was staring at her, the woman was not sure that he was talking about the fruit anymore. They continued to swap the fruit back and forth as they finished the can. When it got down to the juices, she pushed the can closer to him, encouraging him to take the drink. And he did; but that was not the end of it. As he drank down the last gulp of juices from the can, Cooper grabbed her chin, pressed his lips to hers, and pushed some of the liquid into her mouth instead. She chased the taste on his lips once she had taken her drink, and let herself get lost in the moment. He pawed at the layers covering her body, but the sound of Lucy finishing her can brought them out.

“I don’t feel like having an audience tonight, cowpoke.” She whispered, breathless, against his face. The hat was still set atop her head, and it was not going to be leaving anytime soon. A yawn tore through the woman in his arms, before being caught by Lucy against the stone.

“Really startin’ to get pissed at this Vaultie, peaches.” He whispered back, pressing another kiss to her lips, before returning to their previous position.

“Get some shut eye. We leave at day break.” Cooper said with a definitive tone, leaning his head back against the wall in an effort to sleep. The woman below him cuddled herself into his chest and drifted off to sleep without a worry of being attacked in her sleep. Lucy was the last one to close her eyes, but not the last one to fall asleep. Her mind raced with questions she wished she could ask, but thought better of not asking. Hoping that the mystery woman was there in the morning, the vault dweller and surface dwellers found themselves in the land of dreams before long, hoping and trying to survive till the next sunset.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #the ghoul fallout #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul

[mead-iocre]

Ducky Turn! | Vivianne Miedema x Reader

You watched as Viv walked into the press conference room, trailing slightly behind Jonas. She was chatting animatedly to Connie, one of the Arsenal staff, and holding a reusable coffee tumbler in one hand. You also know that inside that tumbler is Viv’s favourite coffee "Morning Bliss," a small-batch, artisanal coffee roaster that you had bought from one of the local coffee shops in your area. She would sometimes bring a small bag of coffee beans to training or match days, and when you would ask her where she’ll find supplies to make the coffee, she’ll reply back with a“if there’s a will, there’s a way”. It’s become the only brand of coffee that Viv drinks.

Every morning, Viv likes to indulge herself in what she calls her “ritual”. The dutch begins her ritual by carefully measuring out the perfect amount of Morning Bliss beans. She prefers a medium roast, with notes of caramel and toasted almonds that allow the perfect balance of sweet to the bitter. She would grind the beans to perfection and then use the fancy sleek, stainless steel drip coffee maker that she had treated herself to a few months ago. As she waits for the brewing to complete, she would bask in the stillness and the quiet that is a rarity these days– or at least during the last 3 years. 

Viv would then pour herself a cup, inhaling deeply as the steam rises and the aroma fills the empty kitchen. As she takes that first sip of her perfectly brewed coffee, Viv could not help but smile. For her, starting the day than with a cup of her favourite coffee is the second best thing to start the day. The first is–

She hears the pitter patter of little feet before she sees her. 

“Mama!”

Evelyn, or Evie for short, is the best parts of you and Viv. Everyone says Evelyn is a spitting image of Viv—from the blonde curls that tumble down her back in unruly waves, to her vibrant hazel eyes, flecked with hints of green and gold. Evelyn has your nose, petite and slightly upturned, and dotted with the same freckles across her cheeks that Viv loves to kiss every night before bed. 

You say it’s too early to tell what kind of person your daughter will grow up to be, but Viv swears she’s your mini me. Viv says you’ve both got the same stubbornness (although you would argue Viv is also a contender), the same outgoing personality, and the same sheer curiosity for the world around her. Like you, your little girl is always eager to explore new places and try new things. Whether it's taking the dogs out on new hiking trails, or embarking on a family camping trip, her adventurous spirit knows no bounds.

During her ballet class, Evelyn loves to wear colourful ribbons and bows in her hair. She keeps the same ribbons in her hair during football practice too. When she laughs, her nose crinkles up in the most adorable way, just like Viv. She loves to burst into a song or hum the tune of her favourite music, just like you do. She is your pride and joy, and your greatest accomplishment in life.

But she is also a whirlwind of energy that leaves a trail of chaos and laughter in her wake wherever she goes.

Viv recognises that gleam in Evie’s eyes and the furrow in her eyebrows as she glances at the last two steps leading to the kitchen.

Her daughter was going to jump.

Viv hastily puts her cup down and lurches forward, catching the tornado that is her child. There is not a day that goes by where Viv does not thank her athleticism for being able to keep up with her little daredevil. 

She grasps her fearless little girl under her arms just before she can land the short distance to the ground. “Mama, Ducky jump!”

“I saw that, Ducky” She settles Evelyn on her hip, pressing a few kisses to her rosy cheek still warm from sleep. “But I’d rather not see that again. How many times have I told you you can’t jump from there”

“But I jump, Mama. Like a duck jumping in water!” Ducks are the little girl’s latest fixation– she loves going to the pond to watch the ducks, she loves to talk about ducks, she loves her duck stuffed animals etc. Viv thinks your daughter’s fascination with ducks was inevitable. When Evelyn was born, she was sweetly bundled in a light yellow blanket with a matching yellow beanie to warm her little head. Your private midwife briefly commented about how Evelyn little lips were constantly pursed in a pout whenever she slept, like that of a little duckling. Ever since then, “Ducky” became one of her nicknames.

Evelyn points one little chubby finger towards the kitchen counter where a plate of bite-sized waffles await her. 

“Waffles!” 

Viv snags the plate of waffles off the counter and deposits her duck-obsessed child into her booster chair. She hands her a fork and takes a seat on the chair right beside her. “Waffles yellow– like duckies, Mama!” 

Viv smiles endearingly at her daughter, all cherubic face and bouncy curls. “Just like duckies, Evie” 

——————————

Now at the press conference, you watch as Viv and Jonas take their seats in front of the press, politely saying a few greetings to some familiar faces. Viv’s eyes meet yours briefly and she offers you a quick wink. 

Jonas leans forward in his seat and starts the press. “Hello, everyone. Let’s get this started then– I’ve got Vivianne Miedema with me today”

Being married to a footballer had it’s perks– free match tickets, the cool events, club merchandise, and the occasional Adidas billboards of your wife which your daughter loves to excitedly point out every time she spots one. However, sometimes it seems not everyone understands the difference between the Viv, the mum and wife, versus Vivianne Miedema, the footballer. 

“Everyone” being your toddler. 

She still hasn’t fully grasped the fact that her Mama can’t be on her beck and call, especially while she is at work. At the age of 3, she can’t tell the difference between the football that she plays at school and the football that her Mama plays. To her, it’s exactly the same. 

After all, during her football practice if she looks to the sidelines where the other mummies and daddies are watching and yells for her Mama, her Mama will come running. In Evie’s mind, if she wants Mama, she’ll go to Mama. 

You glance down at the little girl tucked in your arms. She was all buzz and energy throughout the match, crawling from lap to lap, jumping, dancing and shouting. It was no surprise that she was starting to doze off now. You were standing off to one side of the room, leaning against the wall to support the weight resting on your front. Evie was curled up in your arms, her eyes tiredly blinking open and closed a few times. Her tiny body was limp in your arms, her breath was evening out, and just like when she first came into this world, her little rosy lips were formed into a pout.

Just like a little duckling.

But despite your soft whispers to try to and lull her to sleep, your stubborn child was determined to fight the pull of slumber. You knew she wanted to see her Mama, just as she always did after a match. It was their routine, and Evie hated breaking routines. 

“First question for Jonas…” You tune out the press for a brief moment, reaching out to adjust the yellow noise cancelling headphones that were slipping off of Evelyn’s head when all of a sudden she opens her eyes and sits up in your arms. You didn’t have to guess what had woken up your child when you hear it. “– now a question for Viv Miedema…”

What was once a sleepy and tired toddler is now gone. In it’s place is a little girl who has realised her favourite person is in the room. Her eyes were now bright and alert, craning her neck to follow the sound of her mama’s voice booming from the speakers around the room. 

“…don't really think I celebrate goals but all the girls came up to me and they were taking the mick out of me because they were like 'You were actually celebrating’–“

You should’ve anticipated it. You should’ve know it. But by then it was too late.

“Mama!” 

Your daughter yells for Viv, lurching forward with her arms open and fingers pointing towards where Viv was sitting at the front of the room. You had no choice but to crouch down so you could stead your suddenly wiggly child. 

“Ducky, that’s enough” You speak in a hushed but firm tone. You knew that if you were to use your “Mummy voice” it would likely result in tears, and your daughter was not a quiet crier. “Mama is working right now”

But Evie was very determined to get to her mama, hastily trying to tug away from your hold on her arm. You knew heads were turning towards the both of you.

“Want Mama!” 

“Evelyn–“ You try to hug her, wanting to pick her up and run out of the room before she causes anymore distractions. Right now she was the epitome of an incoming toddler tantrum. Her chest heaved with each shaky breath, her small shoulders rising and falling with the weight of her emotions. Her cheeks flushed pink with frustration, and her fists clenched at her sides. 

“No no no no!” Her favourite word as of late and she was proudly demonstrating that she knew just how to use it. "No NO!"

Her big, doe-like eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Her bottom lip quivered as she stood cocooned in your arms, but furiously squirming away from your hold. In your daughter’s mind, being told that she can’t go to her Mama right now was the most devastating thing in the world, and the injustice of it all was threatening to overwhelm her.

“–Liefje” 

You look up as the sound of your wife’s voice and the familiar nickname echos around the room through the microphone. You crane your neck and you spot her now standing up from her chair, holding the mic to her mouth. She gives you a knowing smile. Viv always knows what to do.

“I’ll take her, Liefje. Give her to me” Viv waves a hand, beckoning you both closer. 

You pick up your still teary, pouty daughter and hoist her up to your hip. You walk the short distance towards the front of the room where Viv and Jonas are waiting. 

“Looks like Mama wants you, ducky” You murmur softly in Evie’s ear, pushing the curls of hair away from her eyes. Like a switch, your daughter perks up in your arms, twisting her head towards where you were heading. You could feel her little legs kicking the air in excitement. What a mood switch. 

You stop by the side of the small stage, placing Evie on her feet and quickly grab her hairband that was in your pocket. “Wait one second, Ducky. Let’s fix your hair.” There were cameras around and you would imagine that 10 years from now, your daughter will never forgive you if you let her stand in front of the cameras with a bird nest on top of her head. 

The hairband dangled from your fingers as you attempted to tame Evie’s unruly locks into a neat ponytail. But your daughter was having none of it. She wriggled, clearly eager to get to her Mama, as she batted your hands away.

And like always, Viv knew just what to do to keep your daughter from fussing. Temporarily. “Hi Ducky”

“Mama!” Chuckles round the room when mother and daughter exchanged waves of greetings to each other as if they hadn’t seen each other for days when in reality it had only been a few hours. 

You sighed, a hint of amusement twinkling in your eyes as you gently combed through Evie’s hair with your fingers. “Almost done" you coaxed, your voice gentle and patient as you worked to wrangle your little girl’s wayward curls. You settled on just pushing the front pieces of hair away from her eyes with the hairband. “All done. Now you can go to Mama” 

Evie did not need to be told twice. 

Her little legs pumped furiously and her curly hair bounced behind her. She ran around the table, past Jonas’ chair, to where Viv was standing waiting for her. Viv swings her daughter up to her hip and you watch as Viv leans close to whisper by her ear– most likely prompting Evie to greet the journalists and cameras. Your suspicions were confirmed when your little social butterfly happily waves a hand and bellows a little “hello!”

Your smile widens when her greeting is echoed by all the journalists, some waving back just as eagerly as your toddler. 

Viv then proceeds to sit back down, placing Evie on her lap. Your wife adjusts her chair and shuffles closer to the mic. “Sorry for that everyone…” 

She gestures to the toddler who is currently conspiring with the Arsenal manager. “This one is going through a phase where I am her favourite person, and I’m making the most of it until she realises her Mummy is more fun than me” 

Laughter rings around the room, but all you give the grinning dutch at the table is an eye roll. You know Evie loves you, but her bond with Viv was something special. Evelyn is Viv’s little shadow. 

One of the journalists kindly gestures for you to take the seat next to him in front row of the table and you thank him as you take a seat. 

“Right then. Let’s continue…” Jonas starts the press again, and this time, your toddler is happily sitting on her Mama’s lap. 

———————————-

So far the press is continuing on as normal. Journalists are prepared with questions for Viv and Jonas. “My question is for Viv.” You crane your neck to see a journalists a few rows behind you hold a hand up. “You have broken countless records in England. Arsenal literally put you on a pedestal with a temporary statue outside the Emirates Stadium, a first for a female player. Do things like that matter?” Viv leans forward towards the mic. “No not at all. I’ve already had five great years but I indicated to the club that we have to do better. Other players have done that too. Hopefully the club can bring in some reinforcements this summer– 

“AH!” Evie leans up, her little head nearly clashing into her Mama’s chin if it weren’t for Viv’s reflexes, and speaks directly into the mic. She giggles when it echos back. 

You wince as the mic feedback rings loudly in the room. 

“–Ducky, this mic is not for you. Mama’s trying to answer the question” Viv whispers but it obviously gets caught by the microphone and broadcasted to the entire room. You press your lips together to conceal your giggle as you watch your wife attempt to coax your daughter into letting go of the mic stand. Unfortunately, it seems your daughter is very fixated on the microphone because she tries to grab for it again. 

But Viv is faster. She hauls Evie off her lap for a second, turning her around so she is facing Viv and not the mic. 

“Ducky turn!” Your daughter whines loudly. She is clearly displeased at being turned away from her new toy. She pouts, twisting her body back around, and points at the mic. “Ducky turn! Ducky turn!”

You never though you would say this, but maybe there are consequences in teaching your daughter how to share and take turns. 

And your wife seems to think the same. “Well…at least you all have proof that we are teaching her how to take turns properly” She chuckles endearingly at the pouty toddler on her lap. 

“Okay” Viv relents with a sigh. “Ducky gets a turn.” She lifts Evie and turns her back around so she is facing the rest of the room, the press, and her shiny new toy– the black microphone. 

You shake your head as you watch your wife visibly soften. Evie has Viv wrapped around her little finger from the day she was born. Viv is almost always unable to deny her daughter anything, even if she claims to be the more stricter parent out of the two of you. 

“Since it’s Ducky’s turn, why don’t you have a go at answering the questions then?” Viv pulls the chair closer towards the table so Evie can reach the mic more comfortably. She directs the question to everyone in the room, clearly giving the reporters permission to ask Evie some questions. 

Not a second later, a few hands are up in the air. You smile at the sight of these very professional reporters taking the time to entertain your daughter’s antics, no matter how silly they may be. 

Jonas playfully gasps and leans into his mic. “Wow Evie, look at that! So many people want to ask you questions” 

“What do you think, ducky?” Viv asks the grinning toddler in her lap. “Which question shall we take?”

Your daughter cutely scrunches her face in concentration, one chubby little finger tapping her lips as if she was contemplating the secrets of the universe. You watch as she scans her choices of eager hands, and then points to a man sitting by the front row. You watch as Evie lean up to whisper something to her Mama and then turns back around with a shy smile. 

“Evie will take a question from the man in the front row with the yellow tie” Of course, it’s the yellow tie. Anything yellow is guaranteed to win your daughter over.

“Hello Miss Evelyn. My question for you is: what did you think of your Mum scoring two goals today?”

You watch as Viv pulls the mic closer towards Evie, giving her a nod of support when your daughter turns to her for encouragement.

“Uh…” You cringe internally as your daughter presses her mouth as close to the mic as possible, practically gnawing on it, and the sound is magnified by the speakers. The press seem to take it to stride, a few coos of encouragement sounding around the room. “…I like duckies”

“Oh! That’s nice” Bless the journalist. You doubt that bit would make it to the final draft of the article. “Ducks are quite nice, aren’t they?”

Your daughter nods and hums into the mic, wriggling from her spot on your wife’s lap, clearly eager to talk more about her favourite subject. “Duckies yellow!”

You watch as the journalists couldn't help but be charmed by Evelyn’s enthusiasm, their professional demeanour melting away as they listened to your spirited little girl. Some even leaned in closer, eager to catch every word she says, the cameras capturing the moment.

“Ducks are yellow, clever girl! But let Mama have a turn now, please” You try to stifle your laughter behind your hand as Viv has to practically wrestle the mic away from Evie, grabbing both of her little hands in one of hers to settle the mischievous toddler. 

———————————————

Viv was more than happy to continue the rest of the press with her daughter in her lap, even if she has to routinely stop and grab a little hand as it beelines for the microphone. Viv lets Evie babble into the microphone a more few times and she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in her heart. She may be a footballer on the pitch, but her greatest joy was sitting right here in her lap, eager to share in her world, one stolen microphone at a time.

“Do you want to say anything to Mummy?” Viv points you out for your daughter to see. It was already nearing the end of the press conference. "Anything to say to Mummy before we finish?”

Your daughter thinks for a moment, her face titling to the side and her nose adorably scrunching up in concentration. Thinking about what to say to your Mummy is a very big task for a 3 year old. The room goes silent as everyone waits with baited breath. 

“…I- I love you, Mummy” 

Hey, my loves!

It's been while since I posted and that's mainly due to life getting in the way + not being inspired to write. By some miracle, I somehow managed to finish writing this short little fic (featuring a different player this time– surprise!). This was inspired by seeing that cute video of Alex Morgan and her daughter doing post-match interviews lol

hopefully this will only motivate me to keep on writing.

I appreciate all of you, thanks for being patient

-- butter

#woso x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #vivianne miedema #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #viv miedema

[olderthannetfic]

A short while ago you mentioned fic on AO3 that was written in the “AO3 style”, or something to that effect. I was wondering if you could elaborate on what that means/is?

--

Oh god. This topic comes around every 6 months or so. Others should feel free to help me out here, but basically...

A lot of fanfic sounds like the other fanfic and other stuff that the same communities consume. In a given era and sector of fandom, that leads to a samey style. It often has a lot of overlap with a specific sector and era of genre fiction with a heavy dose of watches-tv-does-not-read-books elements on top.

AO3 House Style is relatively similar to the height of LJ Western slash fandom. Other fanfic styles are often similar but start showing other influences the more distant you get.

There are some major strains, not always in the same works:

Transparent genre fiction prose that doesn't call too much attention to itself. It's there to convey plot, not make you notice the language qua language. You'll see something similar in, say, a Mercedes Lackey novel (along with the terrible editing and protagonist centered morality that are also common in fic, haha).

YA boom era YA vibes.

Kind of forced "snark" and samevoice from many characters in a way that tells you the author spent a little too much time watching Buffy.

World building and complex thriller/mystery/etc. plots that actually work typically take a back seat to pining, angst with a happy ending, and other more ship-focused, character interaction-focused, and emotions-focused things. The general idea of a mystery, vampire AU, etc. is often present, but it's more of a backdrop. (Depends on the part of fandom though!)

Huge focus on the internal psychological and emotional state of characters.

Lots of hurt/comfort, both physical and emotional.

Lots of serialized work that shows the traces of being written that way (dangling plot threads, inflated word count, returning to similar plot points in a way that wouldn't happen if the thing were completely written, revised, and then only posted serially).

Certain cliched phrases like "He smelled of __ and __ and something uniquely him", carding fingers through hair (thanks, commenters for researching this one a year or two ago and proving it's way more common in fic!), "Oh. Oh.", etc.

If the fic is more self-consciously literary, it's full of sentences that trail off to the point where you're almost not sure what actually happened.

Often lots of very short paragraphs and lots of scenes that are almost all dialogue

Frequently third person limited present tense. Some third person limited past tense. Less of other stuff unless you're looking at a fandom where canon is first person or you're looking at readerfic (which is on AO3 but is not really "AO3 House Style").

Honestly, some people would just say "sounds like fanfic", but if you go read primarily on SpaceBattles or something, you're going to find a lot of stories that don't sound quite the same as your prototypical AO3 fic.

[hedgehog-moss]

Welcome everyone, please join us on Baby Poldine’s First Hike! This is going to be a long post because lots of nothings happened :)

Our short-term goal was making it all the way to the torrent without Poldine getting so stressed about being away from her family that we had to turn back.

Our long-term goal: finally having a picnic-carrying llama to accompany us on hikes, which isn’t something I’ve been able to achieve with Pampe because she’s Pampe, nor with Mama Pampy because she’s the matriarch and dislikes leaving her herd behind. (Is there a collective noun? a misdemeanour of llamas? or is it just herd?)

Emotional support cats were recruited to make things less stressful for Poldine. I had to interrupt their afternoon nap on the couch and carry them to the pasture one after the other, and they just lay there looking a bit bewildered, like can we resume our nap or...? But once they saw us dragging Poldine away into the woods they all got curious and followed.

The llamas were a bit suspicious of these shenanigans and started retreating when I carried the second cat outside, so I sent my friend to the greenhouse to get some strawberries, which immediately brought the llamas back.

Although Poldine took one bite of her strawberry and then refused to eat any more of it, because she’s still a baby who only likes familiar foods. (Her grandma volunteered to eat the rest of the half-bitten strawberry.)

One thing we discovered about Pampoldine as we started the hike is that she gets very worried about being a lone llama when we stand still, but she looks reassured as soon as we resume walking. I think us walking decidedly while holding her rope makes her feel like she has a confident leader, while seeing us stop for any reason makes her panic like oh my god, you have no idea what you’re doing and which way to go, do you?

She occasionally tried to rebel and go back in the direction of her pasture, and in these moments all we had to do was grab the nearest cat and toss it in front of her. She would immediately pounce, enchanted, to try and kiss it; the cat would dart away like no thanks!! and Poldine would follow, and off we went again.

Another thing we discovered about Poldine is that she is a compulsive cheek-kisser when stressed. As long as there is someone to nuzzle, the situation can’t be completely hopeless. So we had to accept a lot of kisses.

As you can see, we made it to the torrent! It took a bit of patient coaxing to get her to go in the water (I think she was wary of stepping on the round slippery pebbles) but once she went in she looked intrigued and delighted. She was stomping her little feet to make splashes, and wading about, we actually had trouble convincing her to leave!

For some reason she was more reluctant to follow us on the way back. Maybe once all the excitement of splashing in the stream died down, she suddenly remembered that she was alone far from her pasture and family and got stressed again. We once again tried the method that consists in throwing cats in front of us every now and then, like leaving a trail of bread crumbs behind you except the opposite and with cats. (Note that the cats had the option to flee from this disgraceful treatment any time.) Merricat and Mascarille were talented bait, often leading the way of their own initiative, but Morille complicated things by being a big baby who’d stop dead and start screaming whenever she came across any amount of water. Then we had to carry her across so she wouldn’t get her paws wet.

Pictured below: me, a llama, two cats, then a rivulet (where the mossy rocks are) and Morille lagging behind and screaming pitifully, waiting for a kind soul to carry her.

We made it to the pine area of the woods and Poldine started walking a lot more cheerfully, and sniffing the air with an eager little nose, which was strange because we were still quite far from her pasture so it wasn’t home or other llamas she could smell. We wondered if perhaps she enjoyed the smell of pine resin (it does smell wonderful on warm days!), but then we left the pine woods and entered the hazel woods and she was looking even happier and walking even faster, and then we realised. We were being followed and had been for a while.

Look at her smug little face. (It turns out she escaped because I forgot to tell my friend one of the pasture gates has a latch with an anti-Pampe dual safety system.) Ah, well, it wouldn’t be a proper llama post without Pampérigouste showing up somewhere she’s not supposed to be. She was being so discreet stalking us from afar behind a curtain of trees, we wondered if she’d been following us from the beginning. I hope not, because this small torrent ends up in the Atlantic Ocean and nothing good can come from Pampe discovering how to reach other continents.

Pampe stayed with Poldine long enough to make it look like she’d escaped out of concern for her daughter and not to find out where running water is so she can one day sail to freedom, then she left to have more adventures by herself, completely indifferent to Poldine’s little “mummy, stay :( ” baby goat cries.

Morille and Mascarille also deserted us (it looked like Pampe had promised them a more exciting hike) but thankfully we hadn’t run out of cats, and were able to go home at a decent pace thanks to Merricat, professional llama bait.

All things considered it was a very successful hike! I’m glad Poldine enjoyed the water—now I want to take her to the spots that have a series of little waterfalls, see what she’d make of them :) Or even to the deeper pool you can swim in, who knows, maybe she’ll dive in! Throwing a cat in the water to encourage her would help a lot but I probably won’t do that. They’re very helpful cats who didn’t complain about being tossed ahead like petanque balls to show Poldine the way, but I don’t want to push my luck.

(I regrettably don’t have a picture of this but sometimes when I stopped walking, Poldine would rest her head on my shoulder like “...well? are we lost?” with her little bunny ears tapping the side of my head inquisitively and it was really cute.)

#crawling along #sorry for how small some of the photos are but tumblr decided there were too many #tumblr's not wrong but what am i supposed to do. /delete/ a picture of poldine kissing someone?? #and i can't start posting things in several instalments i need to limit myself #else i'd start making posts like Poldine's Hike: Volume VIII

[thatsdemko]

my valentine - o.piastri

masterlist | pairing: Oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: a red lacy Valentine’s Day seems to be just the kind of thing Oscar needs…

warnings: not intended for minors + oral (f receiving) + talks of Valentine’s Day + some errors here or there

a/n: I’m baaaack! while I know this isn’t the part two to the secret Santa that’ll hopefully be here soon I’m having some trouble writing that rn… but please enjoy this!!!

what did men like on Valentine’s Day? was it lace? was it red? or was it just sex? you couldn’t decide the answer. while you stood dumbfounded and dripping in nervous sweat inside the Victoria secret, it left you no choice but to leave and hope scrolling on Amazon wouldn’t lead to the same amount of panic and overwhelm.

you’d wanted to make Valentine’s Day perfect for Oscar. with all of his training and simulator work he’s been doing this winter break, you figured he deserved something special. you perused store upon store for the ideal lingerie for that special Wednesday night, but came up with nothing.

“you’re back from the mall awfully early.” Oscar comments hearing his apartment door shut behind you.

“really? felt like I was there for ages.” you huff out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the couch, “if you were wanting something for Valentine’s Day, what would it be?” you ask staring into his big brown eyes.

a laugh escapes his lips. he’s told you infinite amount of times he wanted nothing for the silly hallmark day. he just wanted a nice meal and some quiet time with you. what more could a man ask for? it was a door you never wanted to open, but you knew there was more to it.

“please don’t buy me anything—“

“oh no it’s not like that.” you cut him off, the heat returns to your cheeks when he looks over at you with a knowing look. you sink further into the couch cushions hoping to disappear, but his eyes stay glued to your growing redness.

“well then I guess I’ve always liked the color red on you.”

—

the red lace underneath your pajamas is uncomfortable. you’re unsure how anyone woman could deal with the deep wedge of material up their ass, and the sheer itching against their stomachs, but you figure you can power through. it’s just one night— well that’s unless Oscar decides the 10 dollar red lace bodysuit was to stay permanently.

you hear the lock of your apartment free, and the door swing behind him indicating Oscar and the carry out food had arrived.

“darling, where are you?” he calls out from the kitchen, and taking no time to wait for you. he’s unpacked the styrofoam containers from the bag, opening his box, he takes in a few bites of food that attempted to spill out the container.

reaching for a napkin to clean up his mess, he quickly glances up to see if you’ve made your way in only to stop in his tracks, jaw nearly smack to the floor at the sight of red.

“you look—“ he doesn’t get the chance to begin, there’s not a word he can find to finish the sentence, because whatever it was he was already feeling against his pants.

moving around the counter, he finds himself in front of you where he can see just how much you’re doing to him with so little. a giggle escapes your lips as you pull his face to yours, “did you want to eat first?” you ask.

shaking his head he whispers a no, before placing his hands against your hips, finger tips gently trail the red lace up your body, “I want you first.”

it’s not a long walk to your bedroom, but it feels like ages for him. every second he doesn’t have his hands on you is a waste, and when he finally does get them, it’s not wasted removing the lace from your body revealing every part of you faster than you expected him to do.

he takes the second to fumble with the condom, his fingers shake with anticipation, it’s almost like the first time you’d done it in your relationship. the nerves got to you both, trying to figure out what worked and didn’t, but now, you’d say your pros. knowing the ins and outs of each others bodies, like how he favored your lips around his dick and you liked his fingers inside of you. with time, you learned all of this.

this was a gift on its own, one that had him dripping in precum and aching to get inside you. and when the condom finally was secured, he, once again, didn’t waste a second to find your cunt and fuck you.

his hips grind against yours creating warmth between your bodies. his hair falls across his forehead that you can barely see with the blur of pleasure in your eyes.

he doesn’t say much. he never does, but he doesn’t hesitate to praise you, adore you, and remind you of how lucky he is.

“you’re so good to me,” he’s saying, transitioning from being inside you, his lips travel across your warm skin all the way down to your hips. his fingers gently nudge your thighs open, and you get the hint, “let me do this for you, my valentine.”

you’re unsure if it was the kisses, the words, or his warm tongue against your wet folds, but one of them got the air stuck in your throat. there’s nothing more than you love than the sound of Oscar eating you out. the slurps, the hum— all of it. the sounds were pleasing to your ears, even more so than the action itself you were gripping the sheets.

he’s edging you, playing you. its ridiculous and maybe you deserve it. after all, you’d put the idea of you in red in his head days ago and he’d been unable to concentrate. the patterns of floral dancing across your chest, a low cut neckline, he’d wanted it all— or none of it if you’d decided that. but you deserved this in some way. you’d been the one to send his dick rock hard any hour or second of the day.

“osc,” the moan comes out more like a pity plea. the chuckle against your pussy sent a chill down your spine and a twirl in your stomach. so you deserved that much, you thought, but this? not letting you come? too much.

“I’m gonna come,” the words spill as does the warmth out of you, his face covered in you wasn’t something he could ever be mad about, but not giving him the chance to edge you? you’ll be paying for that later.

“I wasn’t finished.” he slides a finger inside, barely giving you time to rest and recover, “you fucked with my mind all week.” he groans at the very sight of you from a couple minutes ago. he wished he’d taken a picture, saved it for later, but he was too antsy. his pants did the thinking more than his head. and that’s why he’s stuck his finger in your pussy.

he loves the sound of you. moans, groans, whines, whatever it was. he knew you liked the way he rubbed your clit, the way he kept going until he felt the shake of the frame against him, and that’s when he removed his fingers letting you come.

“what a jackass.” you swear closing your legs up and pushing yourself up off the mattress to find your clothes, “didn’t even let me cum on your fingers, like it’s not Valentine’s Day—“

he shuts you up with a soft kiss, “I think we should eat first before another round.” his words hang in the air as he watches the anger sizzle out of you, “and I want you in that red thing again.”

“anything for you, my valentine.”

tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @leclerc13 @smoothopz @imsorare @lpab @lunnnix @frreyaa

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 fics #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 smut #f1 smut #oscar piastri smut #f1 driver x reader #f1 #formula 1

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Middle Class Lady Who has the Gang Sneak in Her Window

"The gang falling for a woman of a higher class and a father that doesn't approve of them so they usually sneak through their window to be together" @livingdeadgirly​

Genre: Fluff - some angst if you squint (Fem Reader uses she/her pronouns) Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: Mentions of guns, outlaw type of stuff

AN: I'm so sorry these took me forever to write! if some of them seem a little out of character please ignore it and pretend they aren't :D ---> Requests are open! Check out my guidelines if you have any questions

<><><><>

Arthur Morgan:

Your father owned his own saloon which gave him an incredible insight into the type of men who frequented his establishment. He thought of this as a blessing once you started growing older and wishing to be courted, he could keep an ear out for anyone that he deemed unworthy for you.

Unsurprisingly, anyone who frequented the bar was not someone your father wanted anywhere near you. Especially when it came to an outlaw by the name of Arthur Morgan. The two of them had a long-standing feud (actually it was your father who hated Arthur and Arthur was too busy being infatuated with you to notice).

The first time Arthur was seen speaking to you in front of the saloon, your father came barreling through the doors to usher you inside. He instructed you to never speak to him again. Of course you didn’t listen.

Months go by and Arthur has made an extreme effort to get as close to you as he can without your father’s knowledge. The two of you will just so happen to go to the same general store at the same time every Friday by ‘accident’, you just so happen to run into him when you take your horse for a little trail ride to exercise, and every once in a while you both somehow end up behind the theater at on show nights by some strange chance of fate.

After a while, you’re so sick of having to keep your interactions short and sweet and secret in the public eye (lest anyone witness it and run off to tattle to your father). You write a quick letter to Arthur one day asking him to meet you at the side of your house at midnight.

When he gets there and you’re nowhere to be found he’s beyond confused; it’s not until he hears a sharp whistle and looks up to see you waving at him from your second story window that he understands your plan.

“The things I do for you, woman.” He grumbles with a smile and begins hoisting himself up the tree conveniently located right by the window.

You’ve already got the window open as he reaches the top and you begin helping him crawl inside. Now Arthur is a large, bulky man he isn’t exactly as nimble as he might have been once upon a time. You can barely contain your giggles as he lumbers into the room ungracefully and nearly face-plants into the rug on your floor.

“I ain’t had to do this since I was a boy,” He smiles down at you once he steadies himself as you grin up at him widely.

“You’re still young enough to climb through a lady’s window yet, Mr. Morgan.” You tease.

It’s the first time the two of you have ever truly been alone since you met and the tension in the air is palpable. Arthur looks between you and your carefully cleaned and decorated bedroom, then down at his dirty boots on your rug and worn denim pants. He was the complete opposite of you - he didn’t deserve to ruin your space with his grimy life and clothes.

“What you thinking about, Cowboy?” You place a hand on his cheek and turn his head to make him look back at you. He’d confess a few of his doubts, not trusting himself to tell you that he doesn’t deserve you flatout, and you’d shake your head and lead him over to your bed and have him sit down.

You’d kiss him and quiet his thoughts, allowing your actions to say more than words ever could and from that moment on he’d find himself climbing up a tree every other night.

Your father didn’t figure it out ever, even though Arthur and you were hardly ever quiet.

John Marston:

You were the most beautiful person that John had ever seen in his entire life. You were walking in the middle of town with some man nearly twice your age and John figured you were married to him - some lady victim to a man with money and a ring.

John fantasized about swooping you into his arms and saving you from a life of excruciating monotony. He’d tell the old man to kick the bucket, maybe rob him of whatever cash and valuables he had on him, and let you live your life free with him.

When he overheard you refer to the man as your father John felt absolutely giddy. He took his hat off and tried to smooth his hair down as he moved to approach you and introduce himself.

Your father watched the outlaw walk up to the two of you with a skeptical eye. He was hoping the cowboy would walk past you, but he stopped right before you and held out his hand to you. “John Marston, Miss….?” He prompted.

Your father shut it down immediately. He was so incredibly unamused that he stepped between you and John and shoved his arm down. He told John to basically get lost, but John ignored him and kept his eyes on you.

It was like love at first sight.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his and couldn’t hide the growing blush that heated your cheeks as he ever-so-slightly smiled at you. A small smile that disappeared as your father demanded his attention.

“Now son you get out of here before I get angry. I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter, you got that?”

John wanted to laugh at his vague threat. Who did this guy think he was? John put both hands up to show he meant no harm and took a few steps back.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it, sir,” He shrugged, “Was just being friendly.”

Your father scoffed saying he didn’t want any of John’s kindness and neither would you. You caught John’s eye while your father was speaking and mouthed ‘sorry’ with a sweet smile.

John was smitten immediately. He may seem like a big tough outlaw, but the guy is secretly a huge soft romantic. He was already envisioning your wedding and the type of house you two would build together in the middle of the prairie where no one would bother you and you could leave your respective lives.

He may have been getting ahead of himself.

Your father dragged you away and into the general store, John went off to finish a few more errands. He didn’t think he’d actually ever see you again until the moment he went back to his horse to ride back to camp.

He felt a quick tap on his shoulder and there you were looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

From that moment on the two of you had to meet in secret - away from the watchful eye of your father. John took to sneaking in your bedroom anytime he got the inclination to see you (which was a daily occurrence tbh).

He’d take a stroll around the house to make sure your father’s room lights were off and see if yours were on and you were still awake. Due to his frequent visits, you were always up late waiting for him to call on you.

It was all fun and games until he’s waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to climb back out of your window before your father woke up to find him lounging in your bed. That would be a messy scene.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Dutch thought he was too old to have to worry about meeting parents and getting the approval to see the lady he fancied. He was an old dog; he liked younger women of course but never the type who were of a higher social standing than him and needed that.

Then he met you.

You swooped into his life with your pretty dresses and sweet words and you didn’t want him at all at first. It made him want you even more.

It’s no secret that rich men are corrupt and willing to meet with anyone to make a quick buck. Your father met with Dutch to provide some intel about a train full of valuables and treasures that were interesting to both parties involved. Your dad wanted a cut of what was on that train provided the Van Der Linde gang robbed it.

Your father wasn’t a good man. He enjoyed money a little too much, and saw you as property more than his daughter. He was overprotective of you - to the point that he refused to ever let you out of his sight for even a second.

You went to every meeting between the two men and at first didn’t give a damn about Dutch. You thought he was handsome, but not the type of man you’d ever be interested in. Not until your father warned you to stay away from men like that.

He even went so far as to comment that he didn’t like the way Dutch looked at you. It fueled something inside of you. The idea of rebelling in such a way. Dutch was attractive, he had money, an exciting life, and most of all it would piss your father off if you courted the gang leader.

The next time there was a meeting between the three of you, you bat your eyelashes and laughed at Dutch’s jokes a little too hard.

Dutch bid you farewell by kissing the knuckles on your hand, and you loved the way your father basically had smoke coming out his ears at the action.

Your father didn’t bring you with him the next time he went to a meeting with Dutch. He locked you in your room, and only unlocked the door to check on you before bed that night.

You were pouting and writing a long sob-story in your diary when you heard a soft tap on the glass of your window.

You pulled back your blinds to see Dutch crouching in the dirt by your window with a wicked grin on his face.

“Can I come in, Darlin’?” He cooed with a sweet voice. You opened your window immediately and he ducked through the frame.

“You didn’t come with your father today, he said you didn’t want to attend the meetings anymore.”

You explain that you’ve basically been kept a prisoner in your room all day since your dad was convinced Dutch was trying to steal you away from him. You grumble out a few curse words after you explain and roll your eyes.

“What if I am tryin’ to steal you away?” Dutch whispered, his eyes dark and sparkling in the lamp light. You didn’t realize how pretty he was.

You bite your lip and smile, trying to keep on a tough act at his words. It’s no use, though. He’s charming, it’s why he is who he is.

“Maybe I’d let you,” You reply in a sultry low tone.

That’s all Dutch needed to hear. He helped you pack a small bag of items to bring with you and he brought you back to the camp where the gang was staying.

On your bed, you left a note telling your father you were running off with a man. Shortly after that Dutch mailed out a post saying he didn’t want to do business with your father anymore. It was all settled.

He stole you away to join him at camp, and that’s where you stayed.

Javier Escuella:

You met Javier by chance one night when you were being harassed by a local lawman after a night out at the theater. Javier rushed to the alley when he heard your shouts ordering the man to stay away from you.

Javier saw red and let his instincts take over him. He grabbed the man by the collar of his very nice shirt and used it to throw him to the mud.

“The lady asked you nicely to leave her alone. Now, I won’t be so nice if I have to ask. So, tell me, do I have to be the one to request you leave her alone?”

The man scrambled in the mud, splattering it on his dress pants and coat, as he picked himself up and ran away.

Javier introduced himself and offered to walk you home. You were a little wary of him at first, what with the guns at his belt and the knife at his thigh, but he assured you that he was not a threat. He just didn’t want you risking getting harassed again on your journey to your house.

You took him up on his offer and as he dropped you off at your front door you gave him a quick, shy peck on the cheek and asked if he wouldn’t mind coming to visit again in the future.

Javier is a blushing bumbling mess but somehow finds the words to agree and see you again later on in the week.

From that point on, this man spoils you in every possible way. He brings you flowers, fine pelts, jewelry (don’t ask where he got it), and little poems he writes or likes just so that you have a little piece of his heart.

Does your father care about all of that? No. He just cares about Javier’s status as an outlaw, a killer. He’s heard the rumors about the Van Der Linde Gang and he refuses to allow one of the members anywhere near you.

Javier is willing to do anything to see you, though.

You started leaving your windows perched open during the warm summer nights, and a low whistle alerted you to a person sitting right outside the glass. Your curtains were fluttering slightly with the wind and so all you saw was the shadow of a figure causing your mind to think of the worst scenarios possible.

You drew a knife from your vanity and clasped it in your hand ready to call for your father, but you heard a familiar voice lowly call out.

“Mi amor?”

You let out a sigh of relief and pulled the curtains back fully to see Javier smiling at you with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands. “I wanted to see you and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You asked him to wait outside while you barricaded your bedroom door with a stool, then opened the window wider for him to duck inside.

At first he didn’t really know what to do with himself, he planned to give you the flowers and have a quick kiss before needing to leave -  he did not expect you to usher him inside.

You took the flowers from his hands and placed them on your dresser next to the box of trinkets and gifts Javier has given you before.

You sit on your bed and make a spot for him to sit beside you. He isn’t really sure what the gentlemanly thing to do is in that situation, but just to be safe he sits on the floor by your feet. He’s gazing up at you as if you were the moon itself and doesn’t even try to hide the way his breathing quickens every time your eyes meet.

It becomes routine for him to visit you nearly every night and wait for you to barricade your door before allowing him in. Eventually he gets more comfortable and feels better about sitting next to you on your bed - though he knows it was not the proper thing to do.

He really wanted to court you the proper way, but with your father being so hesitant to know him outside of his status he had to be a little lenient on conventional courting methods.

Charles Smith:

Charles has been sneaking into your room for years.

You were childhood sweethearts, but your father had hated the relationship from the moment you expressed any sort of soft feelings for the boy.

When he first started sneaking in, it was just because your father didn’t want you to be friends. You and Charles were inseparable, so he’d sneak in when he could to read your books and play with your toys while your father was at work.

As you grew older, your feelings grew too.

You developed a strong crush on Charles and he was completely oblivious to it. At first, since you didn’t know how to express your feelings, you pushed him away and told him to stop visiting you.

Charles was crushed when you essentially told him to get lost. He couldn’t understand what caused your change of heart - he figured maybe your father had finally gotten to you and you realized you were too rich, too pretty to be his friend.

Charles stopped climbing through your bedroom windows and started only seeing you in public spaces or whenever you took your horse out for a ride.

Eventually, though, even those interactions dwindled and Charles stopped seeing you altogether.

It broke you when you didn’t speak with Charles anymore. You thought it better that way. He couldn’t find out your feelings for him - especially since you were certain he didn’t feel the same way.

Years go by, you stop seeing Charles even in fleeting moments. You heard he ran off and was living alone in the wilderness.

It was your fault, you thought. You pushed him away during his time of need and now there was no way of knowing what became of him. Whether he was alive or dead.

You grow older, your heart growing cold and calloused, and you never really recovered from the hurt you put yourself through.

One night, you’re a passenger on a train taking you deeper into the west of America when there was a loud commotion at one end of the passenger car you were in.

You put down your novel and see a group of masked men with weapons demanding valuables from every patron they pass by. They were slowly moving down the aisle, approaching where you were sitting at an alarmingly fast pace. You couldn’t think of a way out of the situation without giving away every last bit of money you had on you.

That is, until one of the masked men gets to you and instead of the harsh demands and pointed threats you expected to hear, you hear your name being whispered softly.

You look up, skin ablaze with fear and eyes watering. Through your tears you can see a familiar set of dark brown eyes peering down at you as if you were a ghost.

“Ch…Charles?” You squint. You questioned if it was just a mirage, a trick of your brain due to fear, but there was no doubting it. Those were Charles’ eyes.

He softly grabbed you by the arm and helped you out of your seat.

“Come with me,” He whispered as he pushed you through the aisle towards the exit. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

It was stupid, but you blindly agreed as he led you out of the train and onto the dusty earth.

Charles and you caught up as the rest of his posse finished robbing the passengers of the train. You learned that he had been taken in by the Van Der Linde gang and was making a living as an outlaw. After seeing what you did on the train, that part of his story checked out.

You caught up with him as well, you informed him of your father’s fate and how his will left everything to you. How you regretted pushing him away as a teenager and how you wished he could forgive you.

“I never even hated you for it,” He said softly, “There is nothing to forgive, it’s how the world is sometimes. Cruel.”

You tried to explain your feelings at the time, but the embarrassment of it never let you fully explain.

Charles offered to take you home, but you wanted nothing more than to continue catching up with him and learning about his new life, his new family. Charles took you back to camp, and you ended up staying there with him for a few weeks. (For a fee of course, as Dutch had so cleverly thought up)

Your feelings for Charles rose to the surface once again, and you weren’t sure when or if there would ever be a time to explain how madly in love with him you were.

Sean MacGuire:

The first time y’all met was when he was sneaking through your window late one night.

Dutch had given Sean a vague plan about robbing a local lawmaker’s house while the man was scheduled to be two towns over for some political business. Dutch figured it would be a quiet, simple mission to grab some extra loot and not worry about being caught.

Sean paced around your house a few times after midnight the day your father left, and when he didn’t see any lights on or movements he figured it was safe to go in.

He checked a few key points of entry, but the windows on the ground-floor were locked and he didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence of there being a break-in for when the lawmaker came back.

Sean noticed that a window on the second floor was open the tiniest sliver, he’d be able to use a dagger to wedge it open wide enough to slip his hand in and open it fully.

He climbed up some vines growing on the side of the wood paneling and pulled his dagger to wedge it open. Once he got himself inside, he turned towards the window to close it.

His entire body stiffened when he heard the metallic click of a pistol being cocked from behind him.

“Now I’ll only say this one time, Mister, you need to get outta here before I blow a hole in you and make a mess all over these clean floors.” The threat was serious, Sean knew that, but he couldn’t help but perk up at the sweet sound of your voice as you told him you were going to shoot him if he didn’t leave.

He put his hands up, dropping the dagger he had, and turned to face you slowly. The house was dark. Shadows danced across your face and shielded your eyes making you look lethal with the gun pointed at his chest. Sean thought you were beautiful.

“I mean no harm, Miss. Just business ‘s all,” Sean gave you a toothy smile which only made you narrow your eyes.

You told him you were going to give him one chance to leave and he’d only stay if he had a death wish.

Sean wanted nothing more than to stay with you and use whatever methods he could to woo you, but he was familiar with the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice. He was scheduled to meet the gods above if he didn’t slip back out that window and into the night.

After he left, he was already planning the ways he could meet you again - under more favorable circumstances of course. He decided to visit you the next day with a peace offering and a smile.

Once dawn broke over the horizon, painting the world in a golden orange light, Sean was already up and out of camp heading to your large house on the hill.

He knocked on the door and you answered after a few minutes. Your hair was messy from sleep and your nightgown was covered by a long robe that was hastily thrown on to save your modesty.

“What the hell?” You grumbled and looked at Sean as if he had grown three heads. “Either you are the stupidest man on the planet for comin’ back here, or you truly do have a death wish. If it’s the latter give me a second to grab the gun.”

Sean was in love immediately.

“I wanted to apologize for last night. I never woulda thought ‘bout stealing from a man with such a pretty woman living under his roof.” He handed you a small box saying that it was a piece offering. Inside was a large silver coin and a note that said ‘thanks for not shooting me’.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, but pocketed the coin and note nonetheless. You invited him in, but warned him any funny business would not end favorably for him. He only shot you a coy smile and promised that he was only coming as a gentleman, not an outlaw.

The two of you grew as friends at first but once things seemed to grow more romantic, you had to start sneaking around and avoiding your father finding out about the relationship and how it started.

Sean was glad he got the practice sneaking in your window that first night, though, because it was common practice while the two of you had to keep your romantic relations a secret.

Sadie Adler:

Sadie was a shell of herself when you met her.

She was still mourning the loss of her husband and trying to become accustomed to her new life as a member of the Van Der Linde Gang when you stumbled into her one day.

She was just starting to get back on her feet and was at the tailors in town when you strolled in with your fancy clothes and styled hair.

She wasn’t intimidated per say, but she felt a little inadequate in comparison. What with her ragged hand-me-downs from Miss Grimshaw and her few coins that she saved to buy a new linen shirt - you were like royalty compared to her.

You approached her first at the tailors. You asked if she had been in town long as you didn’t recognize her, where she came from, where her husband was (assuming she was married). Sadie didn’t know how to answer all the questions you threw in her direction.

You broke down her walls, though. You bought the shirt that she wanted and even invited her to tea with you at your house to talk about what had been plaguing her the last few weeks.

She didn’t want it to help, but Sadie could physically feel the relief flood her chest as she stopped holding on to her emotions and let them flow freely. A friendship between the two of you grew quickly and rapidly.

Then, it grew to be a little more.

Sadie had been working on jobs with Arthur and gaining her confidence back. In doing so, she finally got the nerve to kiss you goodbye one night when she was getting ready to go back to camp.

She gazed at you nervously after she did it. She couldn’t figure out what your expression meant - whether she went too far, or if you even liked her back in that way.

Tears slipped from your eyes as you looked up at her and grabbed her cheeks, shoving your lips against hers. Her kiss was sweet and gentle, but yours was aggressive and needy. You didn’t realize she felt the same way about you, and knowing that she did created a swell in your heart that never went away.

After your first kiss, you had to keep your relationship on the downlow. Your father knew that the two of you were friends (he hardly liked even that), if he found out that y’all were girlfriends he would separate you for good.

Sadie came up with the plan to visit you during the day as a good honest lady of society, but at night she would climb up through your window to enjoy spending time with you as a partner instead.

Friend by day, girlfriend by night.

Sadie slipped through your window every other night, quieter than a shadow when she came in. Sometimes you’d turn around and she would just be getting in and it would make you squeak a little as it startled you.

She kissed you to keep you quiet when that happened, though (teehee)

Sadie would spend hours with you at night. You’d help her brush her hair when there were missions she was on that took days and she wasn’t able to care for her locks. You’d let her borrow your nightgowns if she ever wanted to stay and relax in your bed until dawn.

The two of you would hold each other and talk until the mourning doves sang their melancholy songs in the early hours of the morning.

<><><><>

#Charles got a little angsty and John felt out of character for me but I just kept writing them that way and couldn’t change it #my mind was set #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption head canons #red dead redemption x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #charles smith #charles smith x reader #john marston #john marston x reader #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #sadie adler #sadie adler x reader

[mannequinreligi0n]

How The DMC Boys Eat Out

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

WARNINGS: NSFW! - oral (female receiving)

WORD COUNT: ~150 per person

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

DANTE

Dante’s a busy man but what does he always make time for? Dessert. Though it’s not often you get dedicated alone time, Dante has made it a habit to at least reward you for sticking by his side as often as possible. This usually has you seated atop his desk, hands grasping at bills and work permits, as he sits before you in his beaten leather chair. Hungry and eager, he’ll kitten-lick at your hole ensuring that he’s tasting every single drop of arousal that leaks out. Dante’s a pleaser at heart, meaning he’ll go til his jaw locks or you yank him off of you. But until that point, he’ll make sure to mutter praise and sweet nothings in your heat, making you twitch and squirm. When he’s not holding your hips down, he’ll switch off between pumping digits or his tongue into you, knowing the right combination to make anyone unlucky enough to be at the agency hear you cry out his name til you lose all capability of intelligent speak.

“So wet - just for me, sugarplum. M’gonna make sure you can’t walk after this.”

VERGIL

Unlike his twin, Vergil appreciates more calculated encounters, rather than spontaneous ones. Ambience is very important to him; he’ll make sure that everything leading up to the moment is just right. Candles, wine, and soft sonatas playing in the background - all leading up to get you seated above him, thighs nearly squeezing his head into the mattress. The crude act of face-sitting is made into a poetic one when Vergil is under you. Methodical tongue movements and cherry lips sucking the life out of you make your hands grip the headboard with unbeknownst strength. Calloused hands will knead into your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to calm your jolting above him. Vergil has spent years mastering the art of patience and playing the long-game. He’ll make sure to draw out every single second til your legs give out. Aftercare is a biggie for him, holding you to his chest and praising your behavior to calm your pounding heart.

“Don’t mock me, little one. When I say sit, I mean sit.”

NERO

Nero is the happy-medium of the trio. Whether it’s quickies in the van or the good ol’ ‘wined and dined’, he’ll make sure that you are his number one priority. If there’s one thing Nero loves, though, it’s getting to stay in bed with you on his day off. Tired kisses and slow petting will eventually lead to Nero disappearing under the covers to take post between your legs. Inside the cocoon of blankets, Nero will lazily drag his fingers over your sensitive folds before anchoring his mouth to your bud. Gentle flicks of his tongue timing to the pump of his two fingers buried in you to the knuckle. Intermittently, his mouth will detach from you and trail kisses along your inner thighs and navel, whispering how good you taste and how much he loves you. He won’t emerge from his hideout until you’ve came - peeking out of the covers to kiss you sweetly, the taste of yourself prominent on his lips.

“There you go, let it out. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

#devil may cry #devil may cry smut #vergil sparda #dante sparda #nero sparda #dmc nero #dmc dante #dmc vergil #vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #dante x reader #dante sparda x reader #nero x reader #nero sparda x reader #dmc smut #fanfic #dmc #oneshot #smut #writing

[nivisdreaming]

Roommate Rules

Summary: Eddie teaches you a thing or two about what happens when you decide to get yourself off every night since you moved in knowing he could hear in the next room over. Part 2 of this request about Eddie in grey sweatpants

WC: ~1.8k

Tags: NSFW, smut, PWP, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, praise, degradation, dumbification, dom!eddie, sub!reader, fem!reader, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, bondage, fingering, daddy kink, master kink, clothes humping, PiV, objectification, exhibitionism, a hint of possessive!eddie, breeding kink, subspace heavily implied, aftercare

Eddie massages the base of your skull leisurely, his fingers simply following along with the bobs of your head as you work your throat open on his cock. He stares down at you with lust-blown pupils, a smirk evident on his face as he watches your lips stretch around him and drool start to pool out of your mouth.

“Y’know, you’ve always been such a vocal little girl, moaning and pleading while you touch yourself. I felt so dirty, listening to you like that,” Eddie tightens his hold on your hair, “but all along, you’ve been the dirty one, haven’t you? Making all that noise to put on a pretty show for me, let me know what a slut you are in hopes I’d just come over there and choke you on my dick like this, huh?” He forces himself deeper down your throat until he can press your nose against the curls of his pubic hair. “Fuck, that’s it, keep it right there princess.” He keeps you held down for a few seconds for yanking you back, sending you sputtering and gasping for air while he throws his head back in pleasure.

You take in the sight of him for a moment, sweat glistening on his chest, veins up his arms and leading to his neck pulsing, red angry cockhead leaking precum just inches from your swollen lips. You whimper and make a small kitten lick at tip, savoring his taste before leaning further forward to nuzzle at his thigh, trying to regain his attention.

Eddie’s head falls back into place and he smiles down at you, reaching out to softly pat the top of your hair. “What do you want from me, baby? You have to ask for it,” He coos condescendingly. You pout and nuzzle further against him, beginning to suck and nip at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh in protest. You drink in the low rumble that comes from his chest as if it was a reward all in of itself.

You feel a strong jerk pull you upwards off your knees as Eddie tugs you by the restraints, easily manhandling you to lay flat on the bed. He shoves your legs open with rough palms, leaning down far enough for his hot breath to just lightly tickle your cunt through your panties.

“Not feeling up to asking? Did daddy’s dick down your throat turn you all dumb? Or are you just hoping if you’re defiant long enough I’ll fuck that attitude out of you?” He settles himself on his knees in order to keep your legs spread while he trails his hands upwards, tugging your underwear to the side and teasing a fingertip through your folds. “You made me wait so long. I fantasized about this tight pussy around me for so long. How about I give you a taste of your own medicine? I’d love to see just how much of a desperate whore you can become.”

He pushes his middle finger into your entrance up to the second knuckle and simply holds it there, his free hand keeping your waist pinned down as you try to squirm. His thumb trails up to rest atop your clit, applying no pressure or movement as you whimper and clench sporadically around his digit. He gives a dark chuckle in response to your pleading look.

“What? The little tease doesn’t like this? Being held right on the brink of what you want, but not allowed to take it?” He tuts, “Poor baby, like a pathetic little bitch in heat.” Eddie begins to pump his finger agonizingly slowly, his thumb pressing down on your bud just hard enough to tear a moan from you.

“You’ve just been feeding yourself orgasm after orgasm for so long princess, giving in to every depraved desire you have-“ He adds a second finger without warning, his hand pressing down harder on your abdomen, “It’s about time someone put you in your fucking place. Give you some rules to follow, and punish all that slutty behavior until you’re a well trained fucktoy.”

You nod mindlessly along to his words, basking in the fire being stoked deep in your core. You can you feel your legs begin to tremble as the pad of his thumb moves in circles, hips struggling not to buck and writhe as he presses you down. Your high-pitched whines fill the space around you and Eddie can’t get enough of them, so glad to finally being the one forcing that air out of your lungs.

“That’s my sweet girl, keep clenching down on my fingers,” he groans. You feel the stretch of a third digit thrusting inside you, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. The growing knot in the pit of your stomach cinches tighter. “If you want something, you better fucking ask for it.” He gives you a harsh warning glare.

Your mouth moves uselessly, endless babbles seeming to fall out every time you make an attempt at speech. Singular pleas are doable if you try to fight the fog in your head, but sentences and coherent questions are long out of reach for your blissed out mind. Still, you rock back on Eddie’s fingers as much he will allow, chasing your orgasm.

Right as you feel the delicious burn begin to spread from your abdomen to your whole body, Eddie’s yanks his fingers out and pulls away all touch, leaving you to thrash about as your body desperately tries chase after the fading sensation. He waits patiently for the rise and fall of your chest to slow with arms crossed and his gaze fixed on your dribbling hole that you keep your legs spread to present for him.

Finally, with all overwhelming sensation gone from your skin, you manage to work your vocal chords for something other than pitiful whining. “Daddyyyy… why you’d stop? Please, come back master,” you huff. Eddie chuckles darkly in response but makes no move closer to you.

“I’m showing you how it feels, little one, to not be given everything you want. I’m teaching you what it’s like to be denied, and teased, and treated how naughty girls deserve to be treated.” He squats down and picks up a dirty hoodie from the floor. “You wanna cum so bad? Sit up, shove this between your legs, and hump it. Maybe, if you make a nice mess on it, I’ll fill you up properly as a reward.”

He tosses the hoodie to you, and you scramble up to your knees in order to grab it, quickly balling it up and placing it below you so you can grind against it. The harsh fabric rubs against every sensitive part of your skin, the pain of the friction from how fast you’re rutting into it only adding to the pleasure surging through you. Your eyelids flutter and struggle to maintain focus, but you catch glimpses of Eddie still standing in front of you, hand clenching around the head of his cock with slow, calculated movements. You can just barely hear his groans and heavy breaths over your own noises, but they do wondrous things to the tension in your belly.

You fall forward to hold your weight up with shaky arms, giving you more leverage to push yourself harder against the bed, and Eddie speeds the jerking of his fist. “C’mon baby, I know you want to. Let go, be my dirty little girl and make yourself cum for daddy,” he coaxes, sending your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, convulsing as you helplessly fall limp onto your stomach, “That’s a good girl, look so beautiful when you obey.” He sits in front of your panting figure, pulling you into his spread lap and aiding you in wrapping your shaking legs around his middle.

“Now you get your reward, don’tcha baby? You’ve been so good for me, so now you get to take my cock and cum again with your cunt all stuffed full.” He lines his tip up with your entrance and pushes in, the slick dripping down your thighs allowing him to enter you with minimal resistance.

He lets you slump on his chest, adjusting to his size while furiously kissing and licking at any part you could get your mouth on, leaving red marks in your wake. Before long you get impatient and try to circle your hips, and he takes it as his sign to grab onto your waist and fuck up into you. The bottom of his stomach slaps against your sensitive bundle of nerves with every hard thrust, and you find yourself clawing at his back in a fight to stay grounded to reality. Every bit of you burns white-hot as he bullies your g-spot, the overstimulation ripping screams from your throat in between punches of breath. You force your head into the crook of his neck to muffle the sounds, and only then do you realize he’s rambling to himself.

“So good, taking it so well princess. You feel so good wrapped around my dick, split open and ruined like my perfect sextoy,” his hands move from your waist to pinch at your nipples and clit, “I fucking own this little hole now, gonna mold her to my big cock and fill her over and over til you’re a bred little bitch. Fuck sweetheart, is that what you want? Know it fucking is, you’re squeezing me like you want to milk the cum out of me, just want daddy to make you a mommy, then everyone will know you’re my slut. My fucking cumslut.”

His words send you toppling off the edge again, a final scream tearing through you as Eddie spills inside you, letting you ride out your high on top as you milk every last drop. Once he feels the last bit of tension melt from your limbs he lays you back on the bed, pulling out of you and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. He leaves for only a moment, returning with a damp cloth that he wipes the both of you down with. You peep your heavy eyes open to watch him slip back into a clean set of boxers, and when he notices you he offers you water and a fuzzy blanket that you gladly accept. Wrapped up comfortably, nuzzled into his pillows, surrounded by his gentle embrace as he whispers praise into your ear, you fall into an easy slumber listening to his heartbeat.

—

Tags!!: @saramelaniemoon @e0509 @ajkamins @babybatlover @tiannamortis here y’all go!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #sub!reader #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut

[lou-struck]

They Said No... Part 3

Obey Me! Datables (minus Luke x MC!)

Featuring: Simeon, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos

Part 1 HERE

Part 2 HERE

~We all get asked to do things sometimes that we do not want to do. And it's okay to say no, but sometimes you need a little extra help to get the point across.

Warnings: MC gets propositioned and S*ut shamed by a demon, threats, violence, sass, discussion of pact making, and other things like that.

Diavolo

The enchanted orchestra plays a haunting waltz as the Prince’s golden gaze scans the ballroom. The hundreds of well-dressed guests don’t capture his attention at all.

 How could they?

None of them are you.

He has been so preoccupied with diplomacy and engaging with some of his more noble guests he hasn’t gotten to see you at all tonight. He misses you and your smile terribly, especially when a fake one has been plastered on his face all evening.

To help in his search and hopefully get a bit of alone time with you, he decides to drop his princely grin and walk about the room as if he has a set purpose. If he seemed preoccupied, no one would bother him for the time being.

It works like a charm and the crowded dance floor parts for him like the red sea. He passes what looks like Beel hunched over the buffet table, Satan chatting with a representative for the Animal Shelter, and Asmo playfully twirling a glass of demonus in his freshly painted nails as a crowd eats up every word that comes out of his mouth.

But where are you?

Finally, after minutes of searching the room, he finds you leaning against one of the pillars on the far side of the ballroom staring out the window at the purple-tinted moon.

He can’t keep his expression of indifference any longer; the grin tugs at his lips as he grabs two flutes of demonus from a passing servant. Ready to sweep you off your feet and hopefully into the gardens for a little stroll away from the party.

But someone beats him to it. 

A long-haired Demoness with long deep blue curls saunters up beside you, “Well don’t you look sinfully delicious this evening?” She draws gently, trailing one of her gloved hands down your arm. You tense under her unfamiliar touch and subtly move a bit further away from her.

“Tell me, Little Lamb,” she coos, flicking her serpentine tongue in your direction. “What does a demon have to do to get you alone for an evening?”

Wha, excuse me?” you blink.” Your behavior is uncalled for.” You take another, much larger step back. “You should go now.”

“Oh, come now,” she laughs, tossing her head back haughtily. “Don’t think I haven’t heard of your reputation MC, a mere human seducing their way through the Devildom. Surely you can make an exception for one more?”

The glasses in Diavolos’ hands shatter violently, and their contents drip onto the marble floor Barbatos took such care in polishing earlier. “What do you think you are doing?” he growls, filling the room with his overwhelming aura. 

“L-lord Diavolo,” the demoness shakes, her violet gaze wide and darting between you and the Prince, no doubt trying to figure a way out of the punishment that awaits her. “I was just joking around with them; that’s all; humans are too sensitive.”

“You continue to insult Mc,” he frowns. “Do you not wish to keep your tongue? Leave now before I take more drastic measures.”

They nod hurriedly and rush away from the ballroom, leaving you and the Prince surrounded by onlookers. Your eyes brim with unfallen tears, but you keep your composure beautifully. “Thank you, Diavolo.”

The rage inside him dulls as he shakes the demonus off his hands and escorts you away from prying eyes.

Barbatos

“Sorry for the wait, Mc,” Barbatos says, leading you into the lounge outside of Diavolo’s office. “The young master has been tied up in meetings all afternoon, but once he is done, the three of us can go out to dinner.”

You smile brightly as the butler, your hand lingering on his own, not wanting to let go. “That’s alright; I don’t mind waiting with you.”

You’re just too precious; it makes his ancient heart skip a beat. “I just have one last chore to do, and then I’ll be all yours.”

“Oh,” your slightly disappointed tone fills him with pride as you glance around the room. “Can I help with anything?”

“Absolutely not; you are a guest. All I require of you is that you relax and enjoy yourself until I come back,” he says, placing a hand on your lower back to lightly guide you into the comfortable seat in the room. “I promise I shall only be a few moments.”

He leaves quickly, making sure to be near enough should you require anything. With a steady hand, he wipes a vase far older than himself faster than anyone else would attempt to. The ancient porcelain still shines like new under his careful touch, but as he looks into the rich colors within, he can only think of your eyes.  

His ears twitch as the sound of footsteps is much heavier than your own. They thud down the hallway stopping at what seems to be the door to the lounge, and step through the freshly oiled hinges.

A weary feeling settles over him for two reasons, 

Firstly, The young master isn’t expecting any more guests today.

And Second, You are completely alone in the room with a strange demon.

Instinctually, he places the vase down and rushes down the hall to check on you.

He pauses just outside the door catching the scent of the son of a well-known Noble Demon. His green eyes peek through the crack in the grand double doors, it may be impolite to eavesdrop, but as a Butler, it is quite the perfected skill.

“You there, Human.” the pompously dressed Demon sneers in your direction. “Go make yourself useful and fetch me something to drink.” They smirk confidently at you and lounge back into the chaise as if they own the place.

It grinds Barbatos’ gears, but he doesn’t interfere yet; the mantra ’a good butler does not make a scene.’ replays in his head as if it is a warning, but his hand is already on the doorknob before you even reply to the rude Demon. 

“Excuse me?” you say with a composure that makes his heart flutter, “But I believe you have mistaken me for someone else; I do not work here; perhaps one of the Little D’s would be able to assist you.”

He scoffs as if he had never been told no before. “I am a very important guest of the Crown Prince; you are nothing. If I want you to grab me something, you will get it for me.”

“I already told you I do not work at the palace; I have business with Lord Diavolo just the same as you do,” you explain again. 

“You speak as if we are equals; perhaps I need to teach you a lesson,” they spit, uncurling their barbed tail and pointing it threateningly in your direction. Your eyes widen a bit, and you subtly shift in your seat; Barbatos spots thin tendrils of magic already at your fingertips in case the entitled demon attacks. 

He can watch no longer- Stepping into the room without his usual polite smile, “That’s quite enough; your disrespectful behavior is not tolerated in this castle.” At Barabatos’ entrance, the Demon begins to shake something fierce as whispers of what the butler does to threats to the crown replay themselves in his ears. 

Barbaots tries to hide the softness he feels when he sees the way the fear of your features falls away in his presence. 

Although it is immensely satisfying to watch someone who was once so proud and entitled backtrack and blubber out a seemingly endless stream of apologies and excuses to you, Barbatos is in desperate need of your quality time, and this imbecile is getting in the way of that.

“Furthermore, why would you ever ask them to do something for you that you are clearly capable of yourself,” he asks, smiling maliciously, leaning close to the trembling Demon’s ear. “Are You Helpless? If that’s so, why should someone as pathetic as you ever request an audience with the future king?”

“R-right, s-sorry,” he mumbles, scurrying out of the lounge as if he were a rat. The thought of such sends a shudder through him as he turns his attention back to you. Your shoulders are stiff and rigid, your breaths come out shakily, but you are unharmed, and that’s all that matters. 

“Little Rose,” he asks in a feather-light voice, crouching down to your eyes level and taking off his white gloves to hold your hands properly. “Are you alright?”

You nod slowly as he rubs gentle circles into the back of your hands. The contact soothes him just as much as it is soothing you. “I’m okay.” you say at last, “Thank you for being there for me, Barbatos.”

“When you need me, I will always be there for you- I promise,” he says softly, meaning every word.

Simeon

Simeon is all smiles as he walks down the cobbled streets of Majolish. How can he not be? He’s going to have lunch with you.

A part of him feels bad about not telling Luke about this little date, but he really wanted to have some alone time with you.

As of late, It seems as if everyone else has no problem getting you alone; it pulls at his heartstrings to know that he isn’t as present in your life as he wishes to be.

Some may call his feelings possessive, but in all reality, it is love, true unadulterated love. Every time he sees your face, he wonders if falling from the celestial realm would really be that bad of a thing.

Just as he approaches the Bistro told him to meet him, he notices you off in the distance. You walk quickly across his path, a look of irritation on your pretty features that has the Angel wondering if he himself has done anything to upset you recently. 

He hasn’t, but the feelings of insecurity persist, and he gets closer.

“No comment,” you say aloud, your hand swatting at the air around you as if there was a bug. “I told you I have nothing to share.”

He may not be able to see the other presence around you, but he can feel it. One of the tiniest Lesser demons he has ever taken note of buzzes around your head like a fly around a bowl of fresh fruit.

“Come on, sweetheart; you gotta tell the people what they want to know.” The voice says in a comically high-pitched voice. 

You stop and stare at the little bugger. “I have nothing to say to you about the brothers, the prince, or anyone else for that matter,” you say defiantly. 

“Listen, MC; I’m a busy demon. The kind of Demon who has deadlines. If you don’t give me something good, I’m done for.” He pleads, circling around your head once more. 

Simeon takes a careful step forward, more than ready to come to your aid when the Demon opens his mouth again.

“What about the Angel? You gotta tell me something about him. No one is that good, that pure. I’m sure my readers would kill for a story about how one of the highest-ranking angels of the celestial realm is being corrupted right here in the Devildom.”

Simeon stops in his tracks. The accusations may be false, but those rumors are dangerous, especially to him. If his superiors heard a story like that was gaining traction, they could take him away. He would never get to see you again.

The Angel knows he has told you many secrets in the late hours of the night that would satisfy this pest of a reporter. But those secrets were exchanged in hushed tones with many tears. You would never betray him like that.

Would you?

His heart feels so tight in his chest as you stare at the Reporter in shock. “at first, I thought you were just annoying. “You say calmly, “but it seems to me you are more than that; how stupid can you be? Simeon is one of the kindest beings I have ever met; your story has no substance; leave me alone.” 

The emotions that welled up in Simeon’s chest when you took his side were indescribable—making the sweet Angel feel as if he were falling for you all over again. He feels rejuvenated and ready to help you get rid of this Reporter once and for all. 

Despite the pissed-off look on your face, the Reporter does not back away, throwing up his tiny hands and changing the subject. 

“Okay, nothing special there. But how about Belphegor? Is it true he was kicked from his exchange program early as a result of sleeping through his classes?”

“I may not know too much about reporting down here, but I am fairly certain the best information comes straight from the source,” he says in his calm and cheery voice. With his presence known, he sees the Reporter fly out of your personal space bubble quickly. You look visibly relieved that there is no longer buzzing in your ear.

Now that you are feeling better, the Angel continues his lecture, “As for me, I have nothing to say to someone who works with such a lack of integrity. Please leave the two of us in peace.” Although he speaks with a smile on his face, his words are not a friendly suggestion. The lesser Demon flies away quickly, not wanting to face the wrath of the Angel.

With the pest gone, he turns and gives you the biggest, most sincere smile he has to offer. Feeling an emotion he cannot name with your knees buckle at the sight of him.

“I’m glad he’s gone,” you say softly, taking his outstretched arms for balance as you make your way back over to the Bistro. “I kept telling him to leave us alone, but he would just keep pressing with these awful questions.”

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of your head lightly, “But I would like to thank you for sticking up for me.”

“And you, me,” you giggle, glowing with a light all your own.

Solomon

The great sorcerer finds himself continuously drawn to the clock, the slow-moving hands taunting him as he comes to a disappointing realization.

You’re late…

You’re never late. 

He looks back at the fully prepped conjuring station and fiddles with the covers of a few of the jewel-encrusted spellbooks longingly. Your magic lesson was supposed to begin ten minutes ago, but you are nowhere to be found. He spots his DDD lying face down on the end of the clean countertop and reaches for it.

Perhaps you messaged him, and his ringer was off. He picks it up only to see his blank lock screen. Your pixelated smiling face does little to ease his mind. With one last glance at the clock, he turns and walks out the door. His cape flows behind him as he walks through the hallway of Purgatory and out its doors.

He’s out on the street, walking towards the House of Lamination with vigor, using his arms to propel his speed walk forward like he is a mom walking the track at their child’s soccer practice. 

The thought does cross his mind that he had forgotten a possible time change the two of you had agreed upon earlier, but as he rounds a corner, he is able to make out your figure through the light fog that settles on the ground.

But you are not alone; in front of you, there is something large in your path, the fog makes it difficult for him to see exactly what it is, but the aura radiating off of it reveals that it is a lesser Demon who is currently on their knees in front of you.

‘Well, this certainly looks intriguing,’ he thinks to himself, stepping closer. A wave of his hand sweeps away the fog, but neither you nor the begging Demon seems to have noticed his presence yet.

“Please, please, please. Mc. You just have to accept me.” it begs, a clawed hand creeping forward, trying to grab ahold of your shoe pathetically. “I’d do anything for you, Protect you, worship you, anything.”

Solomon has no clue what is happening right now. Is it perhaps another demon professing their love to you?

No, if that were the case, you would have politely turned this poor Demon down with a kind look on your face. But instead, he sees you look uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, as you take a step farther away from the Demon’s outstretched hand. 

“I have already told you no,” you say at last. “I am not interested in making any more pacts.”

Solomon immediately understands why you look so uncomfortable. When making a pact with a demon, it does more than grow one’s powers. It creates a bond. 

Many Demons do not understand just how draining it can be to have a pact with a demon who doesn’t deserve it. 

Although Solomon may desire pacts with strong demons so that he can be strong enough to protect the human realm should the need ever arise? You are different- you have your own reasons for making pacts with the brothers. These pacts are a symbol of your love. Something he is certain this little pest is undeserving of.

Solomon decides that he would like a bit of attention now…

“Oh my,” he says, walking around the Demon as if he were as insignificant as a fallen tree branch. “Do watch your step Mc; it looks like no one has come by to clean up these paths after last night’s storm.”

You look visibly relieved to see another friendly face, and Solomon kisses the back of your hand tenderly. The Demon stares at you both angrily but knows better than to say anything in response. Solomon smirks and looks down at the pushy Demon with a narrowed gaze. 

“Why would MC share a part of themselves with a demon who is too stupid to understand the meaning of the word no?” he says with his silver tongue. “They may be kind enough to turn you down politely, but me? Not so much I’d leave if I were you.”

Wordlessly the Demon picks itself off the ground and runs off with its curly tail between its legs. Not wanting to anger Solomon the Wise any more than he already has been the smartest decision they have made today.

As they scamper off, you look a bit embarrassed as you check the time. “I guess I’m running a bit late to our lesson today, aren’t I, Solomon?” A soft giggle slips past your lips, and Solomon wonders if he will ever get tired of hearing that sound.

“You had a good reason,” he replies simply. 

You groan. “Still, I had been trying to shake them for at least thirty minutes, but they wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Hmm, then how about we do something else today?” he offers. “Take a break, maybe, sneak up to the human world for some frozen yogurt or a soft pretzel?”

Your eyes light up at his proposition. “Could we get a drink?” you ask, “Demonus isn’t gonna cut it today.”

You’re just too cute sometimes. It makes him feel much younger. He looks at you with an almost boyish grin and laughs, “I think we can make that happen.”

#obey me! #obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me writing #obey me x reader #diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #barbatos #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #simeon #obey me simeon #simeon x reader #solomon #obey me solomon #solomon x reader

[sooniebby]

Hi, were you accepting request? if so, could i request a nsfw fiction? where m!reader is having an intimate night with his soft boyfriend (any male character you're simping for) who's happy to pop m!reader's virginity and bottomed him out with lots of cum!

“would you look at this? there's a bulge inside you, so adorable just like you..”

ఌ 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈

❝ 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙭 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚?! ❞

꧁ 𝘿𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙞 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 1.9k

Rating › NSFW

Warnings › cringy idiots having sex

Kinks › creampie

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

Denji was ready. He prepared everything in advance—something he rarely does which told Aki and Power that he indeed was serious. The small apartment they shared was empty with just Denji and his boyfriend, (Name). They had been dating for almost six months which was honestly a record for Denji. 

He was honestly not sure what shocked him the most: that he was dating a man or that their relationship lasted more than a week. 

But he had gotten over that. Denji silently smirked to himself, not noticing the raised eyebrows he got from (Name). 

Honestly, (Name) should’ve been used to Denji’s strange quirks by now. 

(Name) was only an inch taller than Denji and had more muscle on him compared to his previously malnourished boyfriend. Maybe that’s why Denji thought (Name) was supposed to take the lead in the relationship. 

That’s what the comics showed. 

“Denji, if you’re done smiling to yourself, can you pass me the remote?” (Name) asked, holding his hand out. Denji bristled but handed him the remote, eyeing the other beside him. 

Okay, maybe he was just stupid, but wasn’t something supposed to happen by now? 

(Name) changed the channels until it was on some random action movie. He hummed as he moved to rest his head on Denji’s lap, getting himself comfortable. Denji couldn’t help his urge to tangle his hand in (Name)’s hair, doing some little braids that would be a pain to undo later. 

It stayed like that for a moment—just the two enjoying each other’s company. 

“Something wrong?” (Name) asked. 

Denji hummed. “No. Why?” That was one of the weird things about (Name). It was like he was able to feel whenever Denji was overthinking something. 

“You’ve been on edge ever since I got here.” (Name) moved to sit up to look at Denji. “Was it…?” He trailed off to let Denji get the idea. (Name) hated Makima and really any one that took advantage of Denji’s naivety but he knew not to state it outloud. 

Who knew if she could hear their every move? 

Denji frowned. Damn, did he really suck at hiding his emotions? “Uh, well, it’s really just I thought you’d do something by now.” 

“Do what?” 

“Sex.” 

(Name) blushed. If this was any other situation, Denji would’ve began celebrating since it was practically impossible to get (Name) to blush. But right now, he was worried his boyfriend would faint from overheating. 

Was he embarrassed by sex? 

“Do you not want to have sex? You’ve dated before.” Denji said. 

“But….” (Name) looked away. “I’ve never had sex before.” 

Denji blinked. 

No way. 

No fucking way! 

“Huh?!” He yelled, a bit too loud for (Name) who suddenly turned back to stare at him with a scowl on his face. 

“What?! Why’s that so hard to believe?” 

“How can you date other people but not have sex?” 

“I was scared…” (Name) muttered. 

Denji was so confused. How could (Name) fight devils with no issue but he somehow had a problem with having sex? Denji stared at him with a confused look that only embarrassed (Name) even more. They stayed like that for a moment while the movie continued on in the background. 

“Was this why you wanted to have this sleepover?” (Name) asked, his cheeks finally returning to back to normal. 

Denji shrugged. “Half of it. I also just wanted to spend time with you.” 

(Name) bit his lip. “We can have sex but I might be a bit bad…” 

“It’s not like I’ve ever had sex ,” Denji stated. 

“I should get ready then,” (Name) said, standing up. 

“Ready for what?” 

“….for you to fuck me, did you forget already?” (Name) asked, his usual snappiness coming back. 

Denji paused. “You…. You’ll take my dick inside you?!” He asked, shocked at the new development. 

(Name) stared at him as if he was crazy. “Yeah, I don’t want to top. Besides, I doubt you know how to open yourself.” 

“Open myself?!” 

“Do you even know what has to happen for us to have sex?! Neither of us have a vagina!” 

“I thought the person who had the biggest dick tops.” 

(Name) frowned. “Where did you learn all of this?” 

“Manga….” 

“Just ask me next time. But you have the bigger dick anyway.” (Name) said, walking away to the bathroom. 

Denji blinked. 

Wait how did he know that? 

ꕤ

(Name) was scared. Yeah, sure, he had been wanting to have sex with Denji but he was also terrified. A dick was supposed to go inside his asshole. That’s scary! What if it tears him open?! 

He sighed, looking around in the bathroom for any type of lube. Much to his surprise, he did. He tried not to imagine who this belonged to. (Name) walked over to the small bedroom that Denji was already in, pacing around. 

“You okay?” 

Denji nodded, stopping in his tracks. “I quickly read one of Aki’s hidden porn mag and saw what I have to do.” 

“Uh, okay. Do you mind getting out so I prepare?” 

“No. I wanna see.” Denji said before quickly realising how harsh he sounded. “If you don’t mind…” 

(Name) controlled his urge to pout. “Sure, fine. Just don’t look at me weird.” He slipped off his pyjamas and laid down on the bed. It was a bit odd to be fully naked in front of Denji but he tried to ignore it as he slipped off his boxers. 

With shaky hands, he grabbed the lube to squeeze out a generous amount and went straight to his ass. (Name) moved himself to where his legs was pulled closer to his chest as he easily slipped in a finger inside himself. 

“So easily?” Denji asked, not noticing the look of embarrassment on (Name)’s face. 

“I masturbated this morning…” He whispered, slipping in another finger with ease. It was somehow making him horny to masturbate in front of his boyfriend. Maybe he was a pervert.

Soft moans left (Name)’s lips as he tried to open himself up as much as possible. His face was dusted pink, feeling the watchful eyes of Denji. He wondered what he was thinking. 

Did he think he was sexy? 

“(Name)…” 

“Mmh?” 

Denji was way closer than he was earlier. He stared at (Name) as he gently reached over and parted his legs even further to get a better look. 

“Your legs are in the way.” Denji said, grinning at the whine of embarrassment he got from (Name). “Are you ready?” 

(Name) glanced down at the bulge in Denji’s pants and gulped. He was ready physically but mentally? 

“Yeah. Just don’t go so hard…” 

Denji simply grinned and motioned for (Name) to lay down. He pulled down his pants, not having worn boxers, and grabbed some lube to spread on his cock. It was a bit cold… 

This certainly wasn’t his own lube. 

Oh. 

He shuddered at the thought of either Power or Aki using it. (Name) was too busy counting cats in his head to notice Denji’s panicked thinking. A laugh caught his attention as (Name) looked down to see Denji in between his legs. 

“What are you laughing at?” 

“Nothing…. It’s just I thought since you were bigger than me that you’d have a bigger dick,” Denji said, staring at down at (Name)’s 4 inch dick that seemed to twitch under his gaze. (Name) glared at him, sitting up to get a glance at Denji’s cock when his skin turned pale. 

“What the fuck…?” 

“What? Is it ugly?” 

“No… Are you a grower?!” 

The one time (Name) had saw Denji’s cock, it was large but not as big as it is now. It had to be close to eight inches than the five that he last saw. Denji blushed while a confident smile grew on his lips. 

(Name) rolled his eyes but laid back down. Denji took that as a sign to go ahead. He inched in closer and pressed his dick right at (Name)’s hole that was dripping with the copious amount of lube he had used earlier. It was a bit scary for (Name) but Denji was excited. 

This was way better than what he imagined. 

He was going to give his boyfriend the best night of his life. 

With one swift movement, he easily pushed inside. (Name)’s breathing hitched, a soft whine leaving his lips. He gripped the bed sheets beneath him as Denji continued to push his entire length inside. It should’ve embarrassed him at how easily he took him in but he was sort of proud of his body. 

Once Denji was fully inside, their skin touching, he finally looked down at (Name)’s stomach. It was a bit toned from the work they did but still had a softness that he loved to play with. But there was something causing (Name)’s stomach to bulge. 

Was it his dick? 

“(Name).” 

Only a pitiful whimper left (Name)’s lips. 

“There’s a bulge inside of you from me.” 

(Name) let out a gasp of concern as he glanced down to see it was indeed true. He was shocked. And horny as his lower region tightened around Denji’s dick. Denji groaned and a playful smirk appeared on his lips. 

Denji trailed a hand on (Name)’s stomach and lightly touched the bulge. He leaned down to press a kiss on his lips. 

“It’s cute, like you.” 

With that, he began to slowly pull out and slam back inside. (Name) mouth opened in a silent scream as Denji used most of his strength to keep up the harsh motion. (Name) wanted to kill Denji for not going slow like he wanted but he couldn’t deny that it felt so good. 

There was a constant pressure on something inside of him. Whenever Denji so much as brushed it—(Name)’s body jerked upwards as he moaned. Their neighbors were going to kill them in the morning. 

(Name) reached over to wrap his arms around Denji’s neck, bringing him close to kiss him once more. This only seemed to make Denji gain more energy as he reached down and grasped (Name)’s right leg, pulling it up more to gain more space to move faster. 

The position for (Name) was a bit uncomfortable but he had no time to complain. 

Denji pulled away from the kiss and groaned. “I see why you wanted to bottom. I feel like I’m going to pass out already.” He said, his thrusts getting considerably inconsistent. 

(Name) smirked, “aw, you can’t handle it?” Denji simply stared at him as if he shouldn’t have said that.

Maybe he shouldn’t have because obviously the guy with a devil living inside of him has more power than the average human. 

It could’ve been, maybe almost ten minutes, of Denji’s inhumane thrusts. (Name)’s stomach was covered in his own cum that had began to be more watery after the third time. His throat was sore and honestly he wished he kept his damn mouth shut. 

“Denji…” he whined. 

Denji simply hummed, nipping at (Name)’s neck as he slowed down his thrusts. 

“Finish already. I’m so tired…” 

“Fine, fine. I’m close anyway,” Denji grunted, easily flipping over (Name) to lay on his knees and face away from him. It took only a few more harsh thrusts that deliberately touched the magic spot inside of (Name) as they both cummed with the other’s name on their lips. 

(Name) groaned, wanting to sleep. He could feel the hot cum inside of him that felt like an amount no normal human could realistically make but Denji wasn’t exactly human anymore. With his head on the pillow, he was about to fall asleep as Denji pulled out only to feel him push the cum dripping out back inside of him. 

“Denji!” 

“What? Don’t want it to spill.” 

(Name) headed chuckling before feeling Denji push his cock back inside. 

And it was still hard. 

“Do you mind going for a few more rounds? I still have stamina in me!” 

(Name) was done for. 

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

First ever request!! Thank you so much for idea! I choose Denji so hopefully you know him or at the very least enjoy the story!

Requests are open so if you got any ideas, feel free to send me them!

Feedback greatly appreciated too! Thanks for reading

#denji x male reader #bottom male reader

[corrodedhawkins]

Make it Big

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Content warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) language, roleplay (Rockstar!Eddie…Eddie is super cocky and kind of an ass but it’s all an act), slight dom!Eddie, oral (m! receiving), crying, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (the tour bus, which is actually the van), praise, multiple orgasms, creampie, a little aftercare.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”, Eddie asks, eyes roaming over your figure.

Answering him shyly, your eyes stay focused on the stained carpet of the dressing room you’ve just been lead into by the band’s manager.

“Pretty”, he muses, circling you slowly. “Do you know why I picked you out of the crowd, little one?” He places two fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

Warm brown eyes stare back at you, his penetrating gaze making you shiver. You shake your head slightly in reply.

Eddie’s thumb traces over your plush bottom lip. “I saw you, in the front row. Singing along to every song, your eyes on me the whole show.”

His hand falls from your face to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him. “I know when someone wants me”, he whispers into your ear.

“I don’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay if you’re too scared”, he releases you from his hold, backing away. “Just say the word and I can throw you back out with all the other groupies who would kill to be standing where you are right now.”

Eddie walks over to the door, swinging it open. He bows, gesturing towards you, then at the door. “On your way out, please send in another one of my adoring fans.”

“No”, you mumble.

“I’m sorry? Couldn’t hear your, sweetheart. Speak up.” Eddie looks at you expectantly.

“No”, you try again, more confidently this time. “I’m not too scared. I want this.”

He stands up straight, lips turning up into a cocky grin. “Of course you do. Why don’t we take this back to the tour bus?”

Eddie ushers you out the back door of the venue, backing you up against the side of his van parked steps away.

With one hand braced against the van beside your head, he leans in, nosing your hair away from your neck. He places hot, wet kisses against your throat, trailing up to your ear. His free hand falls to your plush ass, squeezing roughly.

Eddie kicks your feet apart, forcing one thigh between your legs, his grip on your ass helping him grind you down onto him.

You gasp at the friction, quickly soaking through your panties under your short skirt. The chuckle that comes from Eddie confirms he can feel just how hot and wet you are against his leg.

“Fuck, I can feel how ready you are for me, pretty girl. You want me so bad, don’t you?”Licking and sucking on your lobe, he blows over the wet skin, making you shiver.

When all he gets is a high, desperate whine in reply, he pulls back from your ear to look at you. His hand falls from the side of the van to cup your cheek, thumb moving soothingly over your cheekbone.

“You doing okay?”, he asks softly.

“Yeah. Just, wasn’t expecting to like the cockiness this much.” You can’t help the blush that blooms on your cheeks.

Eddie laughs, brow quirked up in surprise. “Yeah? I was scared I was laying it on too thick.”

“Nah, the whole asshole rockstar thing is doin’ it for me.” Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down for a searing kiss.

“Noted”, he murmurs against your mouth, tongue darting out to flick against your top lip. “Ready to see the inside of the bus?”

Pushing off of the side of the van, you let yourself be lead around back, hopping in when Eddie holds the doors open for you.

The double doors slam shut behind him, the light from the street lamp above filtering in through the tinted windows just enough for you to see the way his eyes have darkened with want.

He pushes you back against the mattress, where a clean set of sheets and a few pillows have been added specifically for the occasion.

Eddie settles on top of you, grinding his hips into yours as he reclaims your mouth. His hands find your hips, ringed fingers trailing down to your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Were you watching my fingers as I played earlier, princess? Did you imagine how they would feel inside of you?”

You nod, face burying itself into the crook of his neck.

He reaches between you, rucking your skirt up around your hips to give him access to your core. Pushing your panties to the side, his fingers find your slit, gasping as he feels just how wet you are.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked for me, baby. Want my fingers that badly?”

“Yeah”, you breathe against his neck. “Wanna feel them.”

“Say please”, he tuts.

A shaky breath escapes you, “please.”

“Good girl, asking for what you want.” He places a soft kiss to your lips.

An utterly embarrassing moan erupts from your throat, lip bitten between your teeth to stifle it.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re into? You want to hear how good you are for me?”, he asks like he has no idea how much of a praise kink you have.

His fingers delve between your folds, moving up to circle your clit slowly, only teasing before he moves them down to your entrance. Two fingers plunge into you, immediately crooking up to hook against your gspot. His thumb comes up to grind firm, tight circles into your clit.

You breathe Eddie’s name like a prayer against his lips, hips bucking against his hand. He knows exactly how to touch you, an expert at getting you close as quickly as possible.

“That’s right, baby. Say my name.” You can hear the smirk in his tone, clearly enjoy the reaction he’s getting from you.

Hole clenching around his fingers, you grab his arm that’s braced against the mattress holding him up, nails biting into his skin.

“You gonna cum? Gonna soak my fingers? C’mon, let me feel it.”

You’re gone before he even finishes his sentence, your hole spasming before forcing his fingers out as you gush, soaking his thigh and the mattress beneath you.

“Good girl”, he murmurs, his thumb on your clit gently working you through your orgasm until you slump back against the mattress.

His lips find yours, kissing you softly as you come down from your high. He pulls back to nose against your cheek, placing a quick kiss there before moving further down to your chin, and finally your neck.

“I think it’s my turn”, he nuzzles against the sensitive skin of your throat, nose bumping against it. “My cock is gonna be right here”, he places a soft kiss to the center of your throat, feeling the moan that bubbles up at his words. “And you’re gonna take it for me, aren’t you?”

He grabs your hand, hoisting you up to switch your positions, him laying back against the mattress as you kneel between his spread legs. He’s already gotten his cock out, stroking himself lazily.

“C’mon, it’s not going to suck itself.” His lip is bitten between his teeth to stop the smirk that threatens to overtake his face.

Your hand replaces his, wrapping around the base of his erection to keep him still before leaning in, breath ghosting over the tip. Taking one last deep breath, you wrap your lips around him, his length engulfed in the warm, wet heat of your mouth.

Eddie groans, burying his hands in your hair, gathering it into his fist. He holds it at the back of your head, keeping it out of the way so he can watch himself sink deeper into your mouth.

“Fuck”, he moans when you pull back to spit on the head, your hand pumping around his length helping you spread the wetness before taking him back in your mouth.

“C’mon, take me deeper. Wanna feel you choke on it.”

You hum around him, expecting the way his hips buck up at the sensation. Instead of gagging and pulling off, you relax as best you can, sinking further down onto him until he slips into your throat.

“Jesusfuckingchrist”, he gasps out in a rush, fist tightening in your hair. He uses his hold to pull your mouth up and down onto him, fucking up into your throat when your nose presses against the thatch of dark hair at the base of his cock. “Good girl, takin’ my cock so deep.”

Pulling you off by your hair, he gives you a few precious seconds to breathe before he’s forcing himself back into your mouth, the wet, dirty sounds of him fucking your throat filling the van.

“Okay, okay”, he pants, wiping away a stray tear that’s rolling down your cheek. “Don’t wanna cum just yet. Need t’fuck you.”

He grabs you by the hips, yanking your panties down before ushering you into his lap. He grabs the base of his cock, running the head up and down your slit, catching against your hole every so often. “You want it?”

“Yes”, you hiss, hips grinding down desperately, trying to get him to sink into you.

He hums in amusement, “then ask nicely.”

A frustrated groan leaves you, his hold tightening on your hips to keep you from moving.

“Can I please have your cock?”, you beg, batting your eyelashes for good measure.

“Yeah? You need me to wreck this pretty little pussy?” He taps the head against your hole, chuckling when he feels you clench around nothing against him.

“Mhmm”, you hum. “Need it so bad Eddie, please.”

“Oh, don’t you worry baby”, Eddie assures. “M’gonna fuck you so good you won’t be able to hear one of our songs on the radio without soaking through your panties.”

Finally, he slides into you, hands settling on your hips. He gives you a moment to adjust, knowing no matter how many times you take him it’s still a little bit of a stretch.

“M’fine”, you pant, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Fuck me.”

His fingers dig into your hips, forcing you down further onto him as he ruts up into you.

Knees planted firmly on the mattress beneath you, you use them for leverage as you bounce in Eddie’s lap, his cock dragging deliciously against your gspot.

You cry out, hands tangling in Eddie’s messy curls, pulling him in for a rough, dirty kiss. You tug on his hair until he moans into your mouth, growling as his thrusts pick up speed.

He holds your hips down firmly against him, fucking up into you with such force you can’t stop the wail that rips from your throat. Your clit is in constant contact with his pubic bone, the friction quickly sending you into your second orgasm of the night without warning.

“Oh fuck, babydoll. Are you cumming for me again?”, he asks, almost in awe.

You can’t answer, too lost in pleasure as you spasm around him, whimpering as he continues to hit your gspot dead on.

“You’re so fucking good for me”, he groans, groping your breast through your shirt. “Such a good little slut, taking my cock so well.”

A constant string of moans and whimpers leave your mouth, your orgasm prolonged by the way he’s fucking into you, deep and hard and exactly what you need.

Suddenly, he’s wrapping his arms around you, falling forward until he’s on top, hips never stopping as he continues to rut into you. He tilts your hips up slightly, the change in angle has you mewling beneath him.

Wrapping your legs around him, you pull him in closer, his cock sliding so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Your hips grind down to meet his every thrust, chasing your third orgasm that’s starting to build.

“Are you gonna tell all your little friends about this?”, he growls against the column of your throat, sucking a bruise into your skin. “Gonna run home and tell them all about how you fucked the lead singer of Corroded Coffin in the back of the tour bus?”

Eddie knows your too far gone to speak, not expecting anything more than your frantic nod in reply. Your legs hiked around his hips start to shake, gasping wordlessly as you feel yourself hurtling towards release. “Shit, are you gonna cum again?”, he marvels, reaching between you to thumb at your clit.

He hears it before he feels it, the wet sounds of your pussy gushing around him as his hips snap into you roughly. You scream, head thrown back as you cum for the third time, shaking and crying as your release overtakes you.

“God”, he groans. “Gonna cum. You want it? Wanna feel my cum drip out of you as you leave?” His rhythm falters, a handful of thrusts all it takes for him to cum with your name on his lips.

“You alright?”, he pants, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

“Mmph”, you reply sleepily, “think I died.”

Eddie throws his head back in a laugh, kissing your brow as he pulls out of you. Grabbing a stray blanket, he lays at your side, pulling you into his chest as he wraps it around you two.

“Was that okay?, he asks, fingers trailing up and down your back soothingly.

“Really fucking okay”, you snort, burying your face into his neck.

You lay there soaking in Eddie’s warmth, the sound of his heartbeat against your ear.

After a moment, you break the silence. “I think there were actually six drunks in the crowd tonight”, you tease, peering up at him. “M’proud of you.”

“Oh fuck off”, he laughs, no bite behind it at all. “When we actually do make it big, just know we’re going to have so much sex in the tour bus.”

Tagging:

@sweetpeapod @mantorokk-writes @latenightsimping @hellfirebabes @mcplestreet @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpsess @msgexymunson @munsonquinns @bayouteche @thefreakandthehair

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #melissa writes

[serafilms]

song 53! magic (one direction) + percy jackson requested by @isabelboo (2023 spotify wrapped event)

you, you’ve got this spell on me, i don’t know what to believe, kissed you once now i can’t leave

Percy isn’t really sure how or when it started, but he’s pretty sure you’ve put some kind of curse on him.

His thoughts are consumed by you day and night. His vision tunnels in on you every time you’re around. Whenever you talk to him, all he can do is think of your lips. It’s excruciating. It’s nauseating. And it’s definitely affecting his daily activities, he thinks as he sits, dazed in the infirmary, with a stab wound (a very minor one!) in his side.

It has to be some kind of magic, he thinks, because he’s never felt like this. Maybe some voodoo? Maybe a trick by Hecate as vengeance for defeating the Titans. Maybe you’ve been slipping him potions in his food. It could be anything, and Percy is not as well-versed in magic knowledge as some other people at camp, so he has no idea.

But he finds himself always looking for you, asking after you. He finds himself trailing after you always, and depressed when you’re not around.

The strangest part is that nobody else seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, and he’s too afraid to ask them about it.

He mentioned something about it to Annabeth once, but she merely waved him off.

(“It’s like I can only think of Y/N,” he said.

Annabeth looked over her notes distractedly. “Uh huh, yeah, that’s great, Percy. Hey, since you’re not being any help here, would you mind getting Y/N so they can help me finish the Capture the Flag plans?”

Percy blinked. “Okay?”)

He thinks it must have started somewhere between all the times you held his hand to lead him somewhere, or the times he stood behind you to help correct your sword fighting posture, or the times you touched his hands and arms to correct his archery posture. He always ended up blushing furiously after each of those ordeals.

Or maybe it started that time he kissed you. Although, technically, you’d kissed him first (on the cheek, nothing crazy!) before he went off to face Kronos.

But then again, Percy had been the one to kiss you on the lips when he found you again after.

(“Percy!”

He heard the call of his name, registered your voice, and his head was already whipping around to find you. He found you, a strained look on your face as you hobbled towards him, and Percy rushed towards you.

No sooner had you steadied yourself by holding onto his forearms than he had leaned forwards and kissed you on the lips.)

But Percy couldn’t help it! He’d just been so worried about you, and so relieved to find you alive. He thinks maybe during one of those kisses you transferred your evil little spell.

Still, he hoped that kiss might have meant something to you, more than friendship, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to talk about it, since you’d collapsed on your broken ankle right after.

Even until now, you two have never really discussed what you are, or what the kiss/es entail for your future relationship. Because magic spell or not, Percy’s endless thoughts about you have him planning out your future (however much of it you can plan for two demigods who face certain death before their prime). An apartment in New York, close enough to his mom and Paul but not so close that it’s overbearing, college and planning schedules to match up, weekends out with your friends laughing and eating and watching movies and doing normal teenager things.

That’s all he wants. But he’ll settle for the lingering touches and smiles he gets from you for now.

But this curse, spell, whatever (because gods forbid Percy Jackson admit he’s in love with you before he’s sure you’re in love with him. They kissed you, Percy! What more do you need, for Zeus’ sake) is seriously becoming a problem, because somebody explain to him how from 30 feet away, Percy managed to see an Ares camper headed straight for you and make it over the battlefield in time to intercept it. With his own abdomen.

It was a stupid mistake, he acknowledges now. He’s been through countless battles, and he knows he could’ve incapacitated the camper from behind, or just knocked the spear out of his hand or something. But something about seeing you in danger just sets alight a fire in his mind that burns through any rational thought, leaving only an urge to stop you from getting hurt.

A little inconvenient now that he’s wincing on an infirmary bed with his side burning up. But at least you’re okay. And oh, look! It’s you! He’s not sure if he’s hallucinating now, or if you’re really standing in front of him.

“Seaweed brain,” you say, sniffling.

Okay, definitely you.

“Hey Y/N,” Percy says meekly. His side still feels like it’s on fire but his heart feels warmer with you here.

You take his hand and his heart aches at the tears in your eyes. “Hey, I’m fine,” he assures, ignoring the fact that he is definitely not fine.

“You’re an idiot, is what you are.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You look at him, at the ridiculous little smile he’s giving you to reassure you, at the bandages around his waist, and his hand in yours, and you lurch forwards and press your lips to his.

Percy jolts in surprise and feels his abdomen screaming at him from the movement, but kisses back nonetheless, feeling your lips on his once more and your tongue graze his bottom one.

When you pull back, he stares at you in a daze. If kissing is how you kept this spell on him, he is okay with being under it forever.

“You’re ridiculous, Percy Jackson,” you say, “but I love you.”

He swears his heart has never felt this warm. “I love you too.”

(“Sorry,” Leo says, looking rather gobsmacked, “they weren’t already dating?”

“Leo!” Piper throws her hands up in exasperation.

He smacks his cheeseburger back down on his plate and stares at the faces of his friends. Jason and Frank also look rather miffed, but the girls are all rolling their eyes. “Excuse me for being surprised! They’ve known each other since they were, what, 13?”

“12, actually,” answers Annabeth.

“12! When Percy woke up on the other side of America, the only name he could remember was Y/N’s, right?”

“Correct,” says Frank.

“And we spent ages on the Argo II, during which they got caught in the stables—“

“They were just talking,” says Hazel.

“—and they fell into Tartarus together! Because he refused to let go of her hand! They literally went all the way to hell, all the way through hell, and back out, together!”

Nobody says a word, all looking at Leo.

“You’re telling me,” Leo says, breathing very intensely as though he just found out that his pet dog has been run over, “that during that entire time, neither of them asked each other out?”

“Nope,” says Annabeth matter-of-factly, “and he also kissed Y/N on his 16th birthday.”

“Man,” Jason sighs, “talk about slow burn.”)

#percy jackson imagines #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #written works ! #2023 spotify wrapped event !