he’s got a fetish for your love
fluff, uhh kissing, one curse word i think, marking, one suggestive line at the end
tsukishima kei, for one, is a massive pole of stoicism, bitterness, and sarcasm towards people he absolutely wants to piss off.
so why is it that he can’t help but turn needy once you’re in his peripheral vision?
you were just existing, walking into the gym while drinking some soda. but to tsukishima? you might as well broadcast your footsteps with how fast his head turned when he heard the sound of your shoes.
to tsukishima kei, you’re perfect. you’re so perfect that it makes his eye twitch in annoyance. he wants to get on your nerves, really, he does. thing is, all his sense of self-respect ran out of the window as soon as you appeared in his life.
nobody could believe their eyes when they saw tsukishima jog—yes, jog not walk, jog—towards you, his eyes wide with what normal people call ‘love’.
tsukishima kei who wrapped his arms around you, burying his face on the crook of your neck, breathing you in like a man that almost suffocated.
“you smell so fucking good, y/n..” he mumbles against your skin, voice hoarse and needy.
you just laugh, hugging him back which makes him melt in your hold. “c’mon kei, you still have practice.”
tsukishima kei who let out a needy, whiny huff as he lifts his head up closer to your ear. “would you let me kiss you more later?” he whispers, and since no one could see anything except for his back, he nibbles on your earlobe. “that’s the least you could do for looking this enticing.”
“you say that everyday.” you groan.
“but i’m right,” he counters, finally standing straight. he ignores the gasps of his teammates as he leans closer and kisses your forehead.
tsukishima kei who reluctantly walks back to his very intrigued yet astonished teammates and glares at them so they wouldn’t ask any questions.
tsukishima kei who, once practice ended, practically floated over to you. he already snatched your bag away, his free hand wrapping around your waist as he guides you out of the gym.
tsukishima kei who can’t stop himself from stopping your walk home just for him to drag you to a shady alleyway to trail kisses down your throat, his breathing heavy as he complains about you being way too addicting for him to keep his hands off you.
“how— how exactly am i supposed to keep my hands off you if you’re like this?” he murmurs as he gently sucks on your collarbone where no one would see.
“like what?” you ask, your hands fisting his uniform for support.
“you look tempting,” he replies, licking the skin he marked.
“school air got me. i barely even have anything on my face.”
tsukishima kei who pulls back with a sly smirk while licking his lips, “even better.”
tsukishima kei who stops only after your legs are weak from his kisses, he picks you up while carrying his and your bags, and starts carrying you home.
tsukishima kei who keeps leaning down to peck your pretty face every five minutes because he couldn’t help it. how could he even hold that back if he has such a perfect lover?
tsukishima kei who doesn’t walk away from your house until he’s sure you’re safe and sound.
tsukishima kei who folds with just a little bit of your attention. you look at him? he gives you a small, almost unnoticeable lovesick smile. you glare at him? his knees turn into jelly. you breathe near him? he’s a second away from asking you to suffocate him.
tsukishima kei who loves it when you get annoyed and you manhandle him by pulling him down by his tie or the collar of his shirt. he smirks slyly, eyes lovesick as he lets you tug him down, your eyes narrowed.
tsukishima kei who’s face turns pink because you’re glaring at him. he keeps taunting you just to see you pissed off, loving how attractive you look.
tsukishima kei who’s eyes can’t help but drift to your lips while you scold him for being snarky, so he does the only justifiable thing to soothe your pretty little angered brain. he smashes his lips on yours, making you gasp.
tsukishima kei who takes that gasp as his chance to slip his tongue in your mouth, his hands coming up to cup your face and slightly tilt it to the side.
tsukishima kei who grins when you both pull back panting, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “guess that’s one way to shut your pretty mouth up, huh?”
tsukishima kei who can’t help but get hard whenever you look at him too long or when you narrow your pretty eyes at him. he’s pathetic since he has a fetish for your love.
a/n: might be bad, ngl. it’s been awhile since i wrote anything like this.. like, a few days lol
asking clark to cum on one of your little birthday cupcakes and to rub his tip in it so some icing gets on his dick……he’s like no baby I don’t wanna ruin them, they’re for you and you’re like yeah exactly, they’re for me. so I want your cum on one of them and so clark sighs but still has a shy little smile on his face when he takes his dick out and starts jacking it right above a cupcake. you guide him through what you want him to do, how you want to make his dick messy and sugary. he follows every order, gliding up and down and back and forth until the whole underside of his length is smeared in the vanilla icing, his dick print blatantly obvious on the smeared cupcake. clark warns you when he’s about to nut and you demand that he aims the tip on the icing of the sweet little treat. his cum drooling out into a little runny pool on the cupcake and his whimpering the entire time he’s riding through the high. then you thank him with a devious laugh and hold eye contact when you grab his dick and the cupcake, taking a bite out of the smooshed cupcake and tasting his cum in the middle…. taking turns going back and forth between the icing stuck on his cock and the sperm drooled all over the sweet birthday treat….. clark really couldn’t help himself but to cum again unexpectedly with your mouth on the underside of his sticky base, whining when you hum and rip your head up to wrap your lips back at the top to catch the thick shots of his load.
it’s easily one of the filthiest activities he’s ever participated in, mixtures of giddy excitement and horny shame swirling inside of him while you continue licking the leftovers of the sugary icing off his dick, closing your eyes like it’s heaven that’s graced your lips. he swallows and stutters a shaky h…happy birthday sweetie and you hum a long, grateful thank you so much baby
💌: obsessed with the idea of clark cumming on your pussy and using his dick to smear it all over your folds and clit
cw: established relationship, cum play, teasing, dirty talk, allusions to prior sex and pussy slapping
wc: 0.4k
"gosh... i can't tease you anymore, baby. look at you." his voice had gone rough, that gentle politeness cracking under the weight of how wrecked you were. he stroked himself once, twice, thick fingers squeezing the base of his dick as he lined up the swollen, flushed head right against your dripping slit.
the first hot stripe of his cum hit you with a wet splatter — thick, heavy, and pulsing across your swollen folds in rhythmic spurts. you gasped at the sudden heat of it, the way it painted your pussy in messy, obscene ropes. clark groaned deep in his chest, jaw tight, eyes locked on the sight of his spend coating your pretty cunt.
"that's it," he rasped, voice hoarse with satisfaction. another thick pulse landed directly on your clit, making your hips jerk sharply. the wet sound of it was filthy, almost louder than the earlier slaps — sticky and warm, dripping down over your entrance in slow, pearly trails.
he didn't pull away. instead, he pressed the broad, still leaking head of his cock against your cum slick folds and started to smear it. slow, deliberate circles. the fat tip dragged through the mess he'd made, spreading his release over every inch of your swollen pussy, gliding slick and heavy over your clit, then down to nudge against your twitching entrance, only to pull back and paint it all over again.
"listen to that," he murmured, almost reverent, as the lewd, squelching sound filled the room with every lazy stroke. his cum mixed with your own slick, turning everything glossy and obscene. he tapped the head against your clit once, twice, watching the way the pearly fluid clung and stretched in thin strings before breaking. "so messy for me. my pretty girl dripping with my cum."
you whimpered, back arching, fingers twisting in the sheets as he kept working the sensitive head in unhurried figure eights over your folds. every pass nudged your swollen clit, sending sparks through your overstimulated bundle of nerves. the heat of his release, the smooth glide of his cockhead, the way he watched it all with dark, hungry eyes — it was too much and not enough all at once.
clark leaned down, breath hot against your ear, voice low and a bit smug again. "you feel that? how slippery you are now? that's all me, honey. gonna rub it in nice and deep so you remember who exactly you belong to."
he dragged the tip up one last time, pressing it firmly against your clit and giving one final, slow grind, spreading the last of his cum in a slick, filthy sheen that left you throbbing and whimpering beneath him. his grin returned, soft and dangerous.
"perfect," he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your trembling thigh. "i can do this all night, baby."
hi! if you've read this far 🫣 likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated as usual!!! come say hiii!!!
clark’s obsession with buying you clothes is getting worse. he feels like a freak, convincing you into department stores ‘cos he knows you’ll get stuck eventually, that you’ll ask for his opinion and let him choose, and he can beat you to the card reader, rocking subtly on your heels with your own type of pleasure as the attendant bags your purchase and smiles at you like she’s happy you found one of the good ones.
you know what he’s doing. clark likes dressing you and you like to be dressed. he doesn’t always care about the choosing, only the paying, finds smugness in the fullness of your wardrobe, how you have to start putting dresses in his closet, your socks in with his. it becomes normal in that you stop feeling guilty aloud, but you always say thank you, and clark– clark’s not even sure he cares. he doesn’t do it for your gratefulness, he just feels as though you deserve to have the things you want, and gets enough gratification from seeing you in things he knows he bought day after day.
eventually, your wardrobe is full. you don’t need another dress, or another pair of shoes. it’s borderline wasteful to keep it going—you can’t wear it all. and clark starts to experience withdrawals. he is accepting, he’s happy, he loves you, and he misses buying your panties. he doesn’t know what to do to chase the high. you keep wearing the things you love and he’s happy for you, but clark needs something. for a little while he gets really into marking up your neck with nips and hickeys, but it’s not the same, and you only have so many turtle necks.
you must feel sorry for him. poor girl, you don’t seem the type to care about seasonal dressing to such a degree, but one day you slink onto the bed with your hand rubbing softly against his knee and ask if he’d mind helping you pack away your winter clothes. make some room for summer, you murmur, ever-so-slightly uneasy, like you’re worried even now that he’s gonna find you presumptuous.
yeah? he breathes. i don’t mind, honey. we can vacuum pack them and box them in the linen closet. when do you want to do it? tomorrow?
tonight? you ask. the weathers gonna turn soon… I might need, you know, some new blouses, some lighter skirts… what do you think?
what does clark think? clark thinks he’d bankrupt himself if he wasn’t saving for a house with a big closet and a bigger bed. he’d spend it all on you.
I love the pervert!mark fanfics but… what if pervert!rex? eh? eh?? you see the vision I’m showing???
lowk imagining him unabashedly taking user’s panties or boxers and bringing it up to his nose to sniff aggressively, especially when he’s away from home and he has at least a whole box of user’s underwear. in post lobotomy he would at least ask politely now even if you still dated him despite being an asshole and all
bonus: Rex slowly finds out about scenting so he purposely sprays user’s underwear with his own cologne so you’ll perfectly smell like him once he goes down there for a meal <3
a/n: omg ofc i would love to... tbh i haven't actually watched much of invincible so i will do it before the lobotomy. actually anon you're a literally genius i was talking about this w one of my friends but more of for mark but rex is totally it as well. he's an asshole but he wants you. wait lowk i wasn't sure if you wanted it to be est. relationship but i thought it would be super juicy if there wasn't! cuz u know then it's supppper perverted.
MDNI- pervert reader, pervert rex.... panty stealing, m masturbation, (no est. relationship, he's literally just a freak.) PinV unprotected (wrap it before you tap it kids) , oral (m! recieving and f!) assertive r! and rex
wc: 4.2k. (freaky)
what it involves: rex is your roommate, one that you just couldn't get along with no matter what you tried. it was annoying cuz you liked him. finally you've had enough, and you decide you're going to try to find him with one of your panties, but it's a bit more than what you've bargained for.
a/n: sorry anon this too soooo long to write idk why.
rex is an asshole. there's no doubt about it.
in some ways, he's one of the worst roommates you've ever had. he's loud, obnoxious, and he almost always is playing some dumbass meme music that you can definitely hear from your room.
you're always knocking at his door, trying to get him to turn the music down so you can get some shut eye before some exam or something else that's quite important, but he tends to ignore you.
sometimes, if he's in a good mood, he'll tell you that he'll do it, and he'll switch it off for awhile. key word, awhile.
he may be an asshole, but he's a good looking asshole. and that pisses you off to no end whatsoever, because what do you mean, you literally need him so bad you can't function properly when he stretches at the breakfast table.
what do you mean, you hate how thin the walls are in your house because you can hear him fucking some other girl, and god she sounds like she's enjoying it a bit too much....
and sometimes, he can be nice. if he knows you've had a bad day and you can't deal with him at all, he won't play his music, and he'll cook dinner or buy take out for the two of you.
he'll make sure to clean up, and when you protest, he'll go, "well, i'm the best anyway, so just remember that."
but the main thing that pisses you off about rex, is that he gets all up in your personal space. he's always barging into your room, not even knocking before he does it.
he plays his music too loud behind closed doors, but the music can still be heard outside.
but what you don't know, is that behind that closed door, he's fisting his cock to the thought of you.
he plays his music so you can't hear him groaning your name as he thinks about fucking you on your couch, having you sit on his lap reverse cowgirl as he spreads your bottom lips open to watch where you're connected to him.
his favourite is when you wear his favourite black little lingerie that he gets to rip off of you with his teeth alone, before you scream his name out when he sheaths himself into you.
as your roommate, rex manages to get a lot of spank material about you, just living around you and watching you live your life out.
one time, when you were both in the kitchen together, he watched you reach up the cupboard, your shortest sleep shorts moving upwards to give him a glance of your tight panties hugging your cunt, mound obvious even from where he's sitting.
he came to that so many times he's lost count, and that night alone he masturbated until he passed out.
rex hates how he's obsessed.
he hates how the first thing he does when he gets home from being out all day is sniff the air of the house, seeing if he can still catch your sweet, sweet perfume in the air, despite that you've been out for the last five hours.
and when he knows you've just showered and have gone to your room, he hates how he basically sprints to your shared bathroom, thanking whatever gods that gave him this tiny ass house he shares with you that has one bathroom, and that you keep your laundry in the basket there.
he hates how he feels just the slightest bit of guilt when he fishes through the laundry basket looking for the freshest pair of underwear that he knows you just wore, the ones where he can smell you fresh and sweet, and he hates how his cock twitches so painfully in his pants.
and god, does rex hate how he doesn't even last more than 20 pumps of his hands when your panties are pressed so close to his nose he might die of asphyxiation, but he knows it'd be a happy death.
with each passing day of his dirty, dirty habits, rex gets more depraved and addicted.
he starts bt not bothering to wash your panties once he's done with them, just leaving the panties back in your laundry basket, covered in his cum.
he doesn't try to hide the fact that he's started to keep your underwear, no longer returning it back to the laundry basket, tucking it into his own drawers to keep for himself as keepsakes of his obsession of you, and your smell.
you ask him if he's seen your favourite pair of panties, as you tell him that your underwear has started to disappear more often, and he shrugs, saying that it's probably just the washing machine eating them all up. they usually turn up weeks later, and your favourite red panties have disappeared a total of 5 times in the last 5 weeks!
he's suspicious and you know it, but the idea of rex, oh so arrogant rex, on his knees for your used panties? it sends a hot burst of...something into your stomach, and you can feel your panties getting damper, not that you'd admit it!
rex is getting braver, you can tell. it's now just a matter of catching him in the act.
he's started to sneak into the bathroom when you're showering, with the spare key that you don't know exists, and he steals the dirty underwear that you've left on the floor to throw into the laundry, and with the dirty underwear pressed to his nose, he uses the clean ones to get himself off, wrapping them around his cock, thinking about you putting them on without a clue.
he cums in those panties, leaving them on the sink for you to wear, just waiting for you to put them on so you can smell like him, and when he does this again tomorrow, you'll already smell like him. that thought sends a devious grin across his face.
when you come out of the shower after that, you can feel your panties are a bit heavier than before, but you put them on anyway, and you immediately feel the wet spot from his cum, because the thought excites you more than you could possibly explain.
sometimes, he doesn't even use them for his own pleasure immediately. he takes his cologne, and sprays the wet spot right where your entrance will be, thinking about how your entrance will smell just like him. the thought, hours later, gets him shooting his load all over his desk, where he was staring at up skirt picture of you he'd managed to sneak.
you finally catch him in the act one day.
you'd been planning this for weeks, slowly building up the courage to finally confront him and get what you want from him.
you've been telling him for weeks about a made up conference that you'd have, telling him that you'd be out for most of the day, reminding him through small things such as saying "don't bring anyone over when i'm gone, i don't want them going through my things" and "don't let anyone trash my shit."
and so you get ready. you wear your red underwear that you know he loves, and you leave the house. you plan to come back four hours or so before you tell him you'll be back, to see if you can catch him in the act.
when you get home, the house is a bit quiet. you open the door as quietly as possible for you, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door as quiet as possible.
you walk slowly, and with purpose, setting your coat up on the hanger, and you walk towards his room.
as you near his room, you can hear some grunting, and the wet sound of skin on skin.
you can hear the low murmur of words, but can't quite make out what's being said.
as you near the sounds, you can make out what's being said.
he's grunting out your name, saying; "god, you really want this, don't you. you love smelling like me. you're such-hngh- a dirty girl, wearing your panties with my cum on them"
"god-" he whimpers, rex actually whimpers, "i bet you taste so good, fuck-" and you can hear the desperation in his voice.
but soon, you realise, the sound isn't coming from his room, it's coming from yours.
rex is in your room, fucking his fist to the thought of your pussy clamped around his dick, squeezing him like a vice.
based on the sounds of his voice alone, he sounds like he's close, and you decide this is the best time to interrupt, thinking about the look on his face alone is getting you wet as hell, walls fluttering around nothing.
you push your door open slightly, and you see rex. he's lying on your bed, his sweatpants pulled down to his thighs. you see his cock strained and flushed a dark colour, and god, his thick tip is gorgeous. you can't wait to sink down on it, feeling it bully against your cervix.
his eyes are screwed shut, and your panties are pressed against his nose with one hand, the other one gripped so tightly around his dick it looks like it might just actually hurt.
he has his eyes shut so tightly, and the wet sounds of his cum 'shlick, shlick' sound across the room.
the sight is gorgeous, and you can't help but appreciate the view in front of you.
rex's abs are flexing under the dim light from your lamp, sweat is beading on his chest. but the real show, the real show is his dick. it's bigger than you imagined, and you can feel the drool collecting in your mouth from the way you're salivating for its weight against your tongue.
you want to taste the precum beading at his pretty flushed tip, but all in due time. he needs to pay for stealing your underwear, making you go commando around the house, feeling sticky in your shorts when you're near him.
he doesn't notice the dip of his bed when you sit down quietly, and only opens his eyes when he hears your breath hitch. your face is pretty and flushed, lips wet and breaths shallow.
"you having fun without me?" you ask, and you cringe slightly, but it's too late now, it's already out of your mouth.
he stops immediately, yanks your panties off of his nose and throws them across the room, as if you haven't seen them already.
his hands drop from his cock, resting on his thighs as he stares at you, open mouthed.
it elicits a response from you, the arrogant rex quiet under your gaze? goddamn, you could get used to this.
"oh no, don't stop on my account. you really seemed to be enjoying yourself." you essentially purr out, getting excited.
rex can only stay quiet as you look at him, a dirty grin on your face, now.
"need a hand?" you ask him, seeing how he just sits there open mouthed.
you watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows, and he nods.
oh god, you're gonna cum untouched in your shorts like some teenage boy.
you shift forward, moving towards him. his hands move from his thighs, not entirely sure where to rest.
you move them gently out of the way, and you sit on your knees, looking down at the view in front of you.
his tip is flushed a light purple-red, and you think he's hard enough that it actually might hurt.
the underside of his dick has a couple of veins that are rather prominent, and you remind yourself that you're going to want to lick them as best as you can when you finally get your mouth on his dick.
your hands wrap around his cock, and he hisses from the sensation, already being so sensitive. you can immediately feel how hefty and big he is.
you struggle to wrap your hand around him, and the thought of this entering you later is exciting to you.
you let go for a moment, and rex is disappointed from the lack of warmth, and just as he's about to interrupt and complain, you spit in your palm, making eye contact with him as you use the spit in your palm to lube him up.
you hear the wet shlick from both his precum and your spit, and rex throws his head back, eyes shut as he fists your hair.
you lean forward, tentatively licking his slit, and he groans gutterly, "fuck- you can't- " and you grin in you kiss against his slit, kitten licking the precum that's spilling over like a faucet, refusing to waste a drop.
and without warning, you wrap your lips around him, taking him inch by inch.
he really thinks he might bust any moment now, and he needs to fight it. he can feel his abs tightening up again, and you can hear him almost...whimpering?
"god, you feel so goddamn good. you were keeping this hot mouth from me? god baby, you're taking me so well."
the compliments are really going straight to your cunt, and your panties are slightly uncomfortable with how much they're sticking to your mound.
you deepthroat him in one go, choking slightly on his length as you feel his tip bump against the back of your throat.
using your other hand, your hand is splayed across his bare thighs, squeezing the muscle as you try to bob your head up and down, before rex uses his hand to push you down all the way.
using the underside of your tongue, you fondle his veins, and you can almost feel the way he throbs on your tongue, dangerously close to cumming down the back of your throat. the idea is delicious to him, but he doesn't feel right doing that on the first time.
suddenly, rex doesn't seem so submissive anymore, and he pulls you off of him.
when you're using the back of your hand to wipe the saliva away from your mouth, you look up at him questioningly, and rex feels his dick twitch again, just from seeing you underneath him.
"not yet, sweetheart. in due time." he grumbles, pulling you up from the underside of your arm, before pushing you gently onto the bed.
he hovers over you, his arms on either side of your head with his elbows pressed against the mattress of your bed.
and then he kisses you.
rex literally kisses you. it's quick and urgent, and he presses his tongue so roughly against yours your teeth clash together.
it's painful but god you're melting into him.
rex is done holding back. he's gonna take what he wants, after struggling all this time to contain it.
as he kisses you so deep you can feel saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth, he's grinding his raw dick against your clothed cunt. the rough stimulation of your clothes against his dick hurts in a good way, but he wants more, he needs more. he needs you now.
he breaks the kiss, stomach clenching, dick twitching when he notices the string of saliva connecting you two, and he looks at you for permission, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants.
you nod, and he yanks them off so hard he moves you down. you laugh, and he immediately clocks in on your underwear, shoving his face in between your thighs, nose bumping against your clit.
your laugh breaks off into a moan, and you can feel him sniff as much as he can.
"god, you smell just like me...fuck, baby, all this for me?" he says to you when he pulls back, grinning up at you.
you can see the slick from your panties slightly brushed across his nose, and you flush, which makes him groan more.
you nod, "all for you, rex."
he grins against your mound, his nose nudging against your clit.
suddenly, his mouth closes around your covered clit, and he sucks harshly, leaving you to let out a mewl.
your hand clasps over your mouth, and you're embarrassed of the sounds that you made, so loud and wanton.
"na, baby, i wanna hear you. can you do that f'me?" he mumbles against your clit, as he pulls your hand away from you mouth, fingers interlocking with yours.
his words against your clit vibrates through you, and you can feel yourself pulse around nothing, completely desperate for him, for his dick.
"rex, please. i wan' you." you mumble, your face flushed and sweaty already.
rex grins arrogantly again, and he nods in compliance. he pulls your panties down, discarding them somewhere across the room, forgotten until later.
he groans at being greeted with the site of your cunt, and rex's mouth drops open.
"oh baby, you're so pretty...you're dripping wet for me, honey." he groans, before he leans in to take a sniff, like the pervert he is.
"rex!" you squeal, pushing his head away from between your thighs with your hands.
rex tuts, "none of that, sweets. this is all mine now, you don't get to keep her away from me." his voice is deep, drizzling like honey.
and without another word, he shoves his face into your cunt.
he spits onto your cunt, drawing back to watch the way it drips between your legs, falling between your ass cheeks.
he groans, rutting his hard-on into your bed, leaking so much he thinks he's about to explode.
he dives right back in like a man starved, flicking his tongue against your clit fast and rushed, and you think, you think you can feel him spelling out his own name; 'r', 'e', 'x'. marking your cunt as his.
you're gonna die, you're gonna die.
"fuck!" you squeal, when he finally pushes his tongue through that first barrier of tight muscle, squealing his name again when he contracts his tongue, causing your tight hole to stretch.
the stretch catches you off guard, but it feels so good, you can't stop thinking about how good his dick will feel in comparison.
"you like that, baby? can't wait to have you splitting apart on my cock." he tells you, before he breaks away from your lower lips, yet another string of saliva breaking between you two.
he grins at the mess in front of him, the flush on your face, and the pool between your thighs.
he finally pushes his fingers into you and you gasp, the intrusion making you throw your head back, clenching down on rex's fingers.
"god, you're so tight. 's all for me?" he asks, smiling down at you.
he starts pumping his fingers in and out, the speed increasing slowly but gradually, and it's almost too much, just because it's him.
he manages to find your soft spongey spot so quickly, making sure he hits it every time. he adds a third finger, stretching you out slowly, to ensure that you can fit him later on.
"all fo' you rex. only for you." you're babbling now, feeling your approaching climax.
rex feels it too, with the way your walls spasm around his fingers.
"you gonna cum, baby?" he asks you, smug written all over his face.
"yeah, yeah i'm gonna-"
with the coaxing of his words, your walls clamp around his fingers like a vice, rex swears, and he pushes his thumb onto your clit, pushing you over the edge.
you feel it wash over you, your thighs clamping shut tightly around rex's hands, which he pries open. your legs twitch, and rex helps you ride through your high.
there's tears in your eyes, from the violent high rex just pushed you through.
you're babbling now, begging for his cock.
"rex- please, i wan' it." you babble, cunt aching for his dick stretching you out, making you cum.
"say it louder, use your words. what is it that you want, baby?" rex asks, cocky as he waits for you to beg for his cock.
"i want your cock in me, please rex, please." you look so sweet underneath him, tears in your eyes and your shirt pushed up to your chest, tits spilling out of your bra.
he leans forward, popping a tit out of your bra, and latches onto your nipple, sucking your nipple hard into his mouth, his teeth grazing over your nipple.
"ah!" you whimper, hand flying into his hair, tangling in his long locks. at some point, rex's hair had come loose, his long hair down now.
rex grins again, against the fat mound of your tit, using his other hand to grope your other one, rolling the nipple between his index finger and thumb.
"aw, well i gotta give my sweet girl what she wants, right? i'm gonna give you my dick until the only thing you can think about is the feeling of my cock buried inside you, stretching you, claiming you, owning you."
with that, rex slowly pushes in the mushroom tip of his cock through the first row of muscles of your tight cunt, into your clasping heat in one smooth stroke. He lets out a guttural moan as your walls flutter and clench around him, trying to adjust to his size.
rex thinks he might cum from this alone, with how wet and tight you are, your insides gripping onto him.
you can feel the veins on the underside of his dick, grind against your walls, the feeling dragging a wanton moan out of
"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight" rex grits out, fingers gripping into the fat globes of your ass, as he slams into you in one go, groaning as his cock head hits your cervix.
"fuck me, please!" you scream, the cervix bumping causing your legs to tighten around his waist, nails raking into his back.
it hurts a little for rex, but the look of pleasure scrunched into your face is totally worth it. and he can't wait to see the marks tomorrow morning, marking him as yours.
He hooks his hands under your knees, pushing them up and back towards your chest to expose more of your dripping sex to his relentless thrusts. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, to hit that special spot inside you that has you arching off the bed with a sharp cry.
"Fuck, right there!" rex snarls in satisfaction, feeling your pussy clench and flutter around him. "That's your sweet spot, isn't it? The spot that makes you fucking drench my cock in your juices. I'm going to ruin it, baby. I'm going to ruin it for anyone else." his obsessive side peaking through. rex knows he's never going to let you go after this, even if you try to run away. nothing will make him let you go.
rex's dirty talk is just making you clench tighter around him, and you can begin to feel rex's dick twitching in your cunt. you throw your head back as you moan, eyes closed.
rex leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting down just shy of pain before soothing the sting with his tongue. He laves the sensitive bud with long, slow licks and suckles, coaxing it to stiffen even further.
He snakes a hand down between your sweat-slicked bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, rapid circles into the sensitive nub. rex feels you teetering on the edge, your body tensing, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
all the while, rex never stops with his unrelenting pace of fucking you with his dick, his balls slapping against your skin, hips bruising against your ass. you're gonna be bruised all over, especially where he's been biting you and gripping you tight.
"cum, baby, cum on my cock." rex demands, and that finally pushes you over the edge, spasming around rex's dick. you feel him follow right after, groaning as he drops his head against yours, slowing his unrelenting pace.
With a final, brutal thrust, rex buries himself to the hilt inside your spasming cunt as you orgasm. He grinds against your cervix, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he starts to erupt, painting your insides with thick ropes of his hot, sticky seed.
he collapses against you, trying to catch his breath.
he pulls his half-hard cock out, and you let out a whine from the loss of pressure and warmth inside you.
rex tuts as he watches his cum leak out of your pussy.
he pushes his seed back into your abused cunt with his fingers, tutting about "such a waste", before scooping down and collecting your underwear off the floor.
he pulls your ruined underwear back on for you, letting his cum collect on the panties instead, his spend keeping your abused cunt warm, completely ruining your panties once and for all.
you groan, something about feeling gross, but he grins at you, already thinking of next time, and how he wants you to smell just like him.
but it's totally worth it for him, because when you go shower later that day, he steals them again, using them to get off with the wet splotch from both your cum and his. he sniffs them, eyes rolling back into his head as he groans, cumming just from the memory alone of your walls fluttering around his dick, before he's even touched himself.
as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!! hope you thirsty freaks enjoyed
cw: mdni, nsfw, smut, p in v, oral sex (f and m receiving), face-fucking, forced proximity, kidnapping, enemies to lovers kinda
summary: You spend what might be your last night on Earth in captivity with Rex.
a/n: at first it was a struggle to write this prompt, but when I had one line pop into my head, i built the whole scene around it and it ended up being one of the longest prompts! hope you enjoy, you horndogs <3
rextober | kinktober — kindapping
main masterlist
A huge, muscular goon shoves you inside a dimly lit room, making you trip and fall on the cold concrete. The skin on your arms and thighs burn from scraping on the floor. You try to sit up, though it proves difficult with your hands tied down.
Rex is pushed in next, and you curse quietly—of course you’ll be sharing your last moments in one cell with this asshole, both of you stripped to your underwear.
When the heavy metal door closes, he glances quickly at you then burns the rope constraining his wrists. He massages them and walks away from you, heading towards the thin mattress lying on the floor. You clear your throat and raise your arms.
“You forgot about something?”
“Oh really?” He turns to face you, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Just fucking help me, will you?”
“Only if you admit it was your fault we got caught.”
“Ugh, fine. It was my fault. Now free me, prick.”
He smirks, then kneels next to you as he grabs the rope twisted around your wrists. When it starts burning, the whiff hits your nose immediately and you shake your hands, throwing the remaining constraints to the floor.
“Thanks,” you mutter, massaging your wrists. A groan escapes your mouth as you stand up to stretch your aching bones.
Rex sits down on the mattress, his back facing you. You come up and sit as well, leaning your back against his. His skin is warm and soft against yours which is a nice contrast to the stone, wet cold of the cell.
“I’m too young and too hot to die like this,” he starts lamenting, throwing his hands up. “If I get out of this alive, I’m fucking quitting. I’ll open up a bar somewhere on a beach and serve drinks with tiny umbrellas.”
You don’t answer and close your eyes, already sick of his pathetic voice. Your mind drifts and takes you to the last time your body was this close to someone else—it’s been months since you had sex, maybe even years. You sigh quietly, angry at yourself for even thinking something so jovial. But the truth stings nonetheless—you might die here, unfucked in ages.
Your skin prickles and you shiver, the cold of the cell getting to you faster than you expected. Maybe you’ll just freeze here to death, which sounds better than being shredded to pieces by whatever monsters might wait for you behind the celldoor.
Rex shifts and catches you in a tight hug. You turn your head to him, bewildered. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Come on doll, you’re freezing. And I run hot. Don’t want you dying here from turning into an icicle.”
You smirk. “Yeah, right. You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“Well, you do look better without clothes than I expected,” he says, smirking back at you.
You roll your eyes but don’t push him away. His strong, muscled arms feel nice against your skin when he starts rubbing your back absentmindedly, and you shiver again. Probably just still cold.
After some time spent in silence, you feel your eyelids getting heavier and yawn. Now that the adrenaline has gone down, you feel how tired you are.
“Let’s go to sleep, we need to rest. Save our energy. And when we wake up, we can come up with a plan,” you say and look for something to cover yourself up with for the night. There’s a thin blanket folded messily on the floor in the corner of the cell. When you pick it up, it turns out to be quite small. You glance at Rex who’s already grinning and you groan.
“Guess we’ll have to cuddle,” he says, all smug and cocky, like you weren’t just hours from your possible deaths.
You don’t say anything, just lie down on the dirty, beat-up mattress and cover yourself with the smelly, scratching blanket. He’s behind you in seconds, scooping you up and hugging you tight. Your breath catches when he plants his big palm on your abdomen, snaking his other arm under your neck. In other circumstances you would yell at him, but now you need all the warmth you can get. You let your eyelids drop down—falling asleep proves easier in his embrace, and you definitely don’t like it.
Just when you were to cross the border of the waking world, his palm travels down to your hip, then to your thigh. You want to swat his hand away, but your body doesn’t listen and just lets him melt you. When he reaches your ass, something pokes your thigh.
“Seriously, Rex?” you finally snap.
“It’s not like I can control it, can I? I’m a healthy man touching an almost naked woman.”
“I knew it was a ploy to get into my pants, you sick fuck.”
“Well, you’re not cold anymore, are you?”
Your lips press into a thin line—he’s not wrong.
“Now’s when you say thank you,” he whispers into your ear.
“Fuck you.”
“You’re welcome,” he chuckles.
His palm finds your arm and he starts rubbing it gently, calloused fingertips grazing over your prickly skin. He trails it down to your ribs, playing with the underwire of your bra. His thumb traces the curve of your breast, and your breath quickens, catching up with the racing pulse of your heart. You can’t pretend it’s from the cold anymore; the heat floods your veins with his every touch. He grabs your jaw and tilts it towards him. You can barely see in the dark, but you can tell that smug smirk is there on his face.
“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, voice hoarse.
“No,” you answer through clenched teeth.
“Liar,” he says and grinds on your ass once.
“Do that again and I’ll kill you myself,” you spit.
He grinds again. “Oh really?”
“You motherfucker,” you growl, turning to face him. Wrong move—he catches your waist and pulls you closer, your chests flush. His eyes are half-closed, laced with something you’d rather not name.
“Listen, if we are to die here, I’d rather go down with an empty ballsack.”
You gasp and try to push him away, but to no avail—he only holds you tighter.
“You’re so fucking crude. And arrogant.”
“Isn’t that what you like about me?”
“There’s nothing I like about you.”
“Keep telling that to yourself. But I know you have the hots for me.”
You try to slap him, but he catches your wrist and leans in, his breath warm on your cheek. “Cause I know I have. And it doesn’t help when you’re so pissed at me.”
“Rex—”
“Let’s just have one nice thing before we die, huh?” He murmurs, putting your leg over his waist. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to reply and closes the distance, kissing you with feverish want. His tongue slides over your lips, begging for entrance. Before you can stop yourself, you let him in and grab him by the neck, making it hungrier; the mixture of lust and anger fueling you.
He chuckles and swiftly pulls you on top letting out a low, satisfied sound. You whine into his mouth when he squeezes your ass, the sound of fabric rustling between your bodies. His hands guide your hips rolling against him, chasing the friction. You let go of whatever’s left of your dignity and keep grinding, soft moans slipping through your lips. When his hand travels upwards to unclasp your bra you quickly pull it off and throw it away. Seconds later his palms are on your breasts, kneading them with practised ease. He thumbs your nipples, circling them; hardened fingertips rough on your buds.
The kiss is dizzying, consuming you completely, letting you forget about your tragic situation for a moment. Your teeth clash against his, tongues moving together in one rhythm. Your fingers thread through his silky hair before curling into a fist. He groans deep and breaks away to mouth at your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your chest. Shiver runs down your spine when his mouth finds your breast, sucking gently, tongue sliding over your nipple. He nips you hard and you desperately clench around nothing, grinding on him faster.
His jaw is slack, lips swollen when he moves his head away to look at you. He inhales sharp through his teeth, hands smoothing up and down your sides. You’ve gotten used to the darkness and could see that he’s staring at you like you were his last meal. The silence between you is charged, bodies buzzing with lust.
“Sit on my face.” He orders, his voice hoarse.
“What—”
“Did I stutter? Sit on my fucking face,” he growls, tugging on your underwear.
You bite down on your lips before slowly standing up. Your legs tremble with anticipation when you peel your panties off and let them drop to the floor.
“C’mere, girl.” He drags you down by your thighs and you lose your balance, but his strong arms guide you down, your knees caging his head. Not a second passes when he dives in, spreading your folds with his tongue. A guttural groan escapes him the moment he tastes you and hears you gasp.
“God, you taste like a fucking five-star dinner,” he says, voice muffled. Normally you’d tell him off, but nothing about this is normal. Your back arches when he starts sucking on your clit; ragged breaths escaping your mouth. You rest one hand on the wall, sliding the other into his hair, gripping it tightly. He opens his eyes and looks at you with hunger you have never seen before. Just that makes a shiver run down your spine.
“Can I— can I taste you too?” You ask breathlessly between moans.
He raises a brow and moves you down, his swollen lips curved in a merciless smirk.
“Thought you didn’t like me,” he says, all smug and cocky.
“‘Cause I don’t,” you reply and kneel next to him. “Get up before I change my fucking mind.” You rush him, swatting him on the chest. He huffs a laugh and stands up quickly, his tented boxers right in front of your face. You palm him through the thin fabric, feeling every vein as your hand slowly slides up and down along his length.
“Stop fucking teasing,” he rasps, grabbing your wrist.
You twist your hand out and pull his underwear down in one clean motion. His cock springs free, flapping against his stomach, before he inhales sharply through his teeth.
“You were never subtle, huh?”
“Likewise,” you smile, curling your fingers around him. You stick your tongue out and lick his balls, which earns you a shiver from him. He rakes his hair before sliding his fingers into yours, pulling you towards where he aches most.
“Come on, show me what those pretty lips can do,” he says, voice laced with need, nudging your mouth with his tip. You take him in slowly, swirling your tongue around.
“Fuuuck— yes, mama, keep— keep fucking going,” he groans, tightening the grip in your hair. You glare at him, but let him move your head. He goes slowly at first, savoring what might be his last blowjob ever. You plant your palms on his thighs and feel the rising tension in his muscles as he fucks your face faster and harder. You swallow his cock deeper with each thrust, a few tears slowly running down your cheeks. Unable to breathe anymore, you pat his leg. He lets out a dark chuckle and rolls his hips once, twice more until he lets go of your head. You push yourself away with a plop to gasp for air.
“You fucking jerk,” you rasp, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He steps out of his boxers and drops down to his knees in front of you with a stupid grin.
Before you can say anything, he cups your face with both of his hands and bites your lower lip gently before pulling you into a passionate kiss. The tenderness of his touch surprises you, every nerve in your body lighting up. Your eyes close, your body drowning in his soft embrace. You roam his body freely, feeling every defined muscle, every scar under your fingertips.
He suddenly breaks away and turns you, making you fall down on your palms. His hand lands on your ass, kneading it firmly. You twist your neck to look at him, face filled with irritation. “You know you can use your words, right?”
He waves a hand at you. “Yeah, yeah, but that’s boring. You ready?”
You lift a brow. “Ready for what, exactly?”
“Oh, come on, don’t be stupid. Want me to fuck you or what?”
“Hope you’re as good at that as you are at pissing me off, asshole.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” he replies, nudging at your entrance with his cock.
“Just fuck me already, Rex,” you snap back, arching your back.
Without needing to be told twice, he thrusts in smoothly, making all air leave your lungs at once.
“Put your head on the floor and your hands behind your back,” he commands. The change in his voice makes you oblige without objecting. He crosses your arms on the small of your back and grabs both of your wrists into one hand; curling the fingers of his other palm around the back of your neck. The angle lets him go deep when he starts moving his hips. You let your eyes close and you gape, swallowing down moans. Every time he buries himself inside you, all you can hear are his groans and insults.
“Fuck, you’re taking me—ngh—so well for such a—such a brat,” he pants out, emphasizing each word with a thrust.
“Faster,” you whisper, at which he chuckles but obliges.
The room falls quiet if not for the lewd sounds of your bodies slapping against each other; your ragged breaths syncing. Just when you are about to reach the peak, he pulls out—making you whine at the loss.
“Get on top of me, gorgeous. Wanna see them tits bounce.”
You look at him over your shoulder. “Seriously?”
“What? It’s a compliment—learn to take one.”
You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts as he lies down next to you and pats his lap.
“Come on, we don’t know how much time we have left.”
A shiver of dread runs up your legs. You glance at the cell door, trying to catch a sound of anyone on the other side. He slaps your thigh and you send him a gaze that could kill on the spot. But he makes nothing of your frustration and grins widely.
“What you waiting for, sweetheart? No one’s coming—not including us, of course.”
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, straddling him. You guide him back inside and start moving your hips slowly, taking your time. He smacks your ass, sound echoing around the cell and you start going faster. You brace yourself against his chest, nails digging into his skin.
“Shiiit, girl—you ride me like you were born for it. Bounce for me, c’mon—yeah, just like that.” He licks his teeth, smoothing his hands up your thighs. You grit your jaw, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your sounds.
With every roll of your hips, his cock hits that sweet spot inside that makes your toes curl. Your movements become more erratic, chasing the high again. His grip on you tightens when you clench around him, before slamming up into you with brutal force. Your head drops down and you can’t help but let out a dragged out, loud moan.
“Yeah, I knew you’d—fuck—like that. Let me hear ya, don't be—hmpf—shy, babe.”
Before you think of something to say back, he starts fucking up into you with maddening speed. It doesn’t take long until the sharp snap of his hips tears the fight out of you. Heat coils and bursts, your body shuddering as he drags your orgasm out of you, grinding deep until you collapse against him, whimpering into his shoulder. He slows his thrusts down, cooing sweet nothings into your ear.
After your breath calms down, he suddenly flips you off him and drops you to your knees. Just when you want to yell at him, his fist tangles in your hair.
“Open that pretty mouth,” he growls, pulling you closer to his cock.
You glare up at him, but your lips part anyway. He fucks into your mouth a few times and spills down your throat, groaning. You swallow on instinct before you drown in his come, his low laugh buzzing in your ears. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and start laughing too—the sound bitter and raw, filling the dank cell.
Rex plops down next to you, stretching on the thin mattress with his arms behind his head.
“Best last night ever,” he beams, grin stretching wide on his face. He looks around and lifts up quickly when his gaze stops on something. “Or… maybe not the last?”
“What the fuck are you—” you start, but he’s already on his feet, striding over to your bra and picks it up, twirling it around his fingers. Not a few seconds pass when he plucks the underwire free, dropping your undergarment to the floor.
“Rex—”
“Relax, I’ve got it.” He kneels in front of the cell door and starts picking the lock, sticking his tongue out in concentration.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me. You’re busting us out and I’ll have to run for my life tits-out?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Hey, the guards will be too distracted to aim,” he grins, not looking back at you.
You throw his boxers at his head, but he dodges, chuckling quietly. His eyes are fixed on the lock, practiced hands fiddling the wire inside it until it clicks open with a soft sound.
He pushes the heavy door just enough to peek out. You hold your breath until he turns back to you, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Come on, princess. Freedom waits—and so do your clothes.”
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omf umm 🫣 your rex was so good. this is so specific but i feel like our preferences line up p well so im humbly requesting...
douchebag!rex and chubby!reader where rex is constantly teasing her, maybe pinching her side or teasing her for eating sweets or something. but behind the scenes he CANNOT get enough of her, furiously jerks off to the thought of her nightly, gets jealous when other ppl get too close to her.
she gets hit with sex pollen at some point and he gets assigned the job of taking care of her and making sure she doesn't try to fuck everyone she sees. but rex is the one having a hard time keeping it together bc fuck why is she so cute when shes a desperate mess
𝄃𝄀⠀⠀love potions⠀╲ rex sloan ֤ࣨ🫀𖥔 ݁ ˖
summary * 𓈒 you didn’t particularly like rex-splode, and the feeling seemed to be pretty neutral on his end. but a sudden mix of mystery smoke and being quarantined together, brings the two of you far closer then it should have.
tags * 𓈒 rex is extremely ooc. if you are here for a complete canon copy of him, you are at the wrong place— sorry to disappoint. | reader is a witch | typical sex pollen fic only this is my first time ever writing one 😞 | porn with plot(?) | incorrect biology (? maybe??) | sex with complicated feelings | mentions and examples of negging | rex is a dick & douchebag | reader is depicted as chubby / plus size & is a witch | overstimulation | over-exaggerated depictions of sex | raw sex | multiple positions | multiple orgasms | pet names ( pretty, mama, baby, etc etc ) | again hes ooc. | awkward time skips i’m sorryyy
author’s notes * 𓈒 this fic was supposed to be posted like two days ago but i made it way longer then i should have, and i genuinely don’t love how it came out but i still wanted to give my best in fulfilling your request— ty for requesting by the way 🫶🏾. the smut is towards the end if you don’t want to completely read the plot and as always please excuse any typos. i hope you enjoy this fic.
Had you broken your promise to Cecil? Your bold vow that you would never hex any of your teammates, no matter how much they pissed you off? Rex Sloan simply couldn’t wrap his head around it, brain nearly emitting smoke from how much his gears were turning.
It.. had to be a hex, right? Some spell in a fancy language he couldn’t identify, written right in those dingy pages of that grimoire you held so dear. He wondered how you did it, if you stood over him while he slept— whispering saccharine words and giggles, slipping in and out while he was none the wiser.
Only for Rex to wake with nothing but you, on his mind.
It was comical really, how much the outside body covers. One would think Rex hated your guts. And his mouth surely didn’t help. Releasing random remarks about your clothes clinging to your skin, how you should put down that donut once in a while, even going as far as pinching your sides — which always resulted in a quick slap, but still — if anyone on The Guardians were ever asked what relationship the two of you had it could always be described as borderline hostile.
However, appearances can be deceiving. It wasn’t that Rex hated you, or your body for that matter. Quite the opposite actually. The man couldn’t count on two hands how many times his eyes have trailed to your ass whenever you walked by or how he could nearly tremble whenever your form brushed up against him. You consumed him entirely; smell, face, everything about you was intoxicating to the point he simply could not get you out of his mind.
Working out? Rex was wondering if he would be able to lift you at his current rep. How his fingers would probably sink into your warm flesh as he tugged you closer by the hips, maybe you would even whine about being heavy— only for him to prove you wrong.
In the shower? All that steam surrounding him? Oh, the man could only imagine having you right beside him, suds sliding down your body like the stretch marks etched into your skin; the man would be steady wondering how hot and heavy the two of you could get— melting into the other until you’re basically forced to get out.
In his bed, under those comfortable blankets was the worst of all. During the day Rex was able to ignore his thoughts and focus on being a dick to everyone — mostly you — and being a superhero. But in his bed with nothing to ground him, his mind went wild.
Wild enough that it affected the rest of his body.
Most nights were spent rather sinfully, a hand wrapped tightly around his dick whilst arousal dripped from his angry red tip. Rex’s free hand was always on his face, as if shameful for what he was doing. And technically he was.
He was Rex Sloan, basically resident fuck-boy; meaning, jerking off should be really be at the bottom of the list. But when it came to you, any thought of approaching you for such a thing, for something other than random insults and remarks— the man was suddenly mute.
“Rex. Are you listening?”
The mechanical voice cut through the flood of thoughts swarming the man’s mind, snapping his eyes from the random buildings passing by to the machine currently driving the vehicle that soared through the air. And to the side was you, sitting so prim and perfectly in your dark clothes; hand currently occupied by a mirror to which your free hand plucked and fluffed your hair. In the midst your hand dragged down towards your chubby cheek and lower, fingers resting upon your lips to which you gently smoothed— probably assuring they were free of anything.
Rex couldn’t help but stare, throughly entranced with it all— suddenly feeling very jealous of your finger tips.
Were your lips as soft as they looked? He wondered how you would taste, he could just imagine them wrapped around his di—
“Rex?”
The moment his name was spoken again your eyes suddenly snapped to his through the mirror, causing the man to quickly look away, nearly glaring daggers into the back of Robot’s head.
“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” He waved it off, forcing a nonchalant facade. “We go to some greenhouse, blow up some freakish plant monster— and then get on with the day.”
Rex then allowed his gaze to tilt back to you, a rather stupid grin suddenly crossing his features.
“But what’s Ms. Sabrina the Witch doing here? You and I could handle this job no problem without the extra weight.”
Your eyebrow twitched, slamming your compact mirror closed as you turned to glare at the man.
“You think you’re so funny.. Maybe I should call Amanda to whoop your ass again.”
“What, you need a little girl to fight your battles?”
“Rex, you aren’t even worth a single spell in my book.. Though,” Your eyes trailed away from the man, suddenly looking deep in thought as your arms crossed over your bosom; “— Maybe I could turn you into a toad.. I’m not sure you would look any different, however.”
Rex couldn’t help but scoff, feeling far too many emotions swarm his stomach the moment he noticed those perfect lips lift into a simper. His own parted, ready to release some fast remark when Robot interrupted;
“From the information gathered by Cecil, there seems to be magical forces at play; explaining the sudden behavior of the plant. Both of you are needed for this mission, and you two are expected to act as a team.”
Those final words were spoken, the tense atmosphere quickly delving into silence. Like teenagers ridiculed the two of you crossed your arms, leaning back into your seats and waiting silently for this damned mission to begin.
Moments passed before the vehicle suddenly stopped, lowering to the ground before a large greenhouse. The windows were frosted, yet large shadows seemed to be pressed against the glass.
With ease you slipped out of the car, tucking your spellbook close and inspecting the outside carefully. What Robot said was right, there seemed to be some type of magical presence; strong enough you felt it from the outside.
You turned, hearing your other teammates exit the vehicle— Robot stepping to stand beside you. His metallic hand rose to the handle of the building, giving the two of you a single glance;
“Are you ready t—“
“Let’s get this over with already!”
. . .
Minutes, possibly even hours passed with the three of you attacking the plant that had taken over the building. With each vine Rex seemed to explode, another grew; dwindling all your progress to zero.
Finally in a sudden turn of events you found the perfect spell, reciting the olden language as a dark spiraled glyph etched into the ground below the plant.
Light sprung from your magic, incinerating the monster from within.
In the midst of this however, a sudden pinkish hue entered the air in the form of smoke, chasing towards you desperately as the plant breathed its final moments. You quickly flung an arm around your face, but it was far too late; feeling the foreign air run up your nose in a painful burn. It trickled down to your throat, clogging so much you began to cough; body shaking from the excursion. You fell to your knees, struggling to catch your breath, as sloppy wet coughs escaped your chest.
“[Name]!”
You didn’t know whether it was Rex or Robot speaking, deciding to focus on your breathing instead. Your eyes shut close, sucking in harshly to hopefully fill your lungs with fresh air and not whatever that mysterious smoke was. It took a couple of tries but you eventually succeeded, feeling your rushing heart relax the moment you could breathe again.
You slowly lifted from your hunched position, noting the way Robot stood close to you whilst Rex stood off to the side, gaze settled upon you with an unreadable expression.
“What the hell was that, Robot?! Did it just piss on her?”
“You’re..” You huffed softly, slowly rising to your feet, tucking your book close to your body. “— so immature.”
“I’m asking a serious question!”
You shook your head, switching your gaze over to the still machine, waiting for some type of answer. You secretly prayed Rex was wrong, knowing you would probably gag if it truly was magical monster plant pee.
“It wasn’t urine, Rex; the plant released a pheromone as a response to [Name] killing it. “ Rex explained slowly, stepping a tad bit closer to you, clearly scanning your form. “It’s current effects are unknown to me, however you seemed to have inhaled most of it and absorbed it through your skin.”
“What?” You hissed in concern, eyes falling to your body as if searching for some type of answer. You even went as far as swiping your skin, truly desperate to get whatever the hell it was off you.
“That won’t work.”
“Yeah, no shit Robot—“ Rex stepped in, eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he glanced down at you before switching his gaze back to his other teammate. “What are you gonna do?”
All was silent for a moment as Robot thought it over, possibly doing millions of calculations for an answer. You stood quietly, attempting to swallow your fear. This so called pheromone couldn’t be that bad.. right? Maybe it was like a skunk thing?
Okay, that did sound pretty bad.
Robot stole you from your thoughts the moment he spoke again, your eyes flicking to him and noticing his own head switched towards Rex.
“For now, while I assess the effects the two of you will be quarantined together.”
“What?”
“There’s no way in he—“
“You could possibly infect the others through contact and given Rex was nearby during the event, there’s a possibility the pheromones hit him as well.” Robot cut through your childish remarks with ease, watching your mouths clamp shut in response.
“This is only temporary. I will figure out an answer soon. For now, please work with me.”
. . .
You wanted to work with Robot, or more like needed to. So you were pretty silent on the ride back to headquarters albeit the little groans of irritation that escaped you each time you shifted, suddenly feeling every bit of fabric clinging to your skin.
It was a blur making it to the quarantine area— or rather your bedroom. You didn’t love having your biggest enemy in your safe haven, but you would have to make do.
“Feel any different?”
“You asked that three minutes ago, Rex.” You murmured softly, eyes closed as you laid amongst your soft blankets. You had taken a shower the moment you got back, something Robot recommended and something you definitely needed. Removing your clothes to relish under the hot water was pure bliss, you would have stayed under there for hours if you could. After which you dried and dressed in a simple shirt and shorts, baggy to combat the sudden suffocating sensation surrounding you.
You turned from lying on your back to your side, allowing your eyes to open and focus on the man across the room. He was seated on your vanity chair, dressed in a simple white tank and his super-suit pants. The man’s hair was done up in a messy bun, a few strands framing his face. You began to stare longer than you should have, only realizing the moment his eyebrow twitched up, clearly questioning your sudden interest on his face.
You breathed softly, “I don’t feel any different.. just, hot.”
“Hot?”
You gave a little nod, rolling onto your stomach as your face smushed into the blankets and pillows below you. “Hot.” You repeated softly, eyes closing for a moment. Hot, was an understatement. While your shower helped cool you down in the moment, it felt as if your temperature was slowly rising and rising— with no end in sight. It explained why you suddenly felt so suffocated; the fabric you wore clinging to your body as you began to sweat.
Along with this, you felt dizzy as if developing the worst super powered vertigo known to man. The only remedy was shutting your eyes tightly, even going as far as shoving your face into your bed to help.
“Really.. hot.” You murmured more to yourself rather than the man, but he heard regardless.
Rex couldn’t help the tinge of worry invading his body as he looked at you. He could hear the way you basically panted, as well as see your body rise and fall with every breath. He sucked in his own, rising to his feet and crossing the bedroom quickly.
“You’re not gonna be able to breathe like that, c’mon—“ he leaned upon your bed with a single hand whilst the other went for your arm, gently pushing you, however hissing the moment his palm made contact with your skin.
“Fuck, you’re boiling [Name].” Rex murmured, eyes casing down your front the moment you rested on your back. He immediately noticed the sweat presented on your skin, shining underneath your overhead light and trickling down your body. With each huff your chest was rising, hands clenching the shirt you wore as if to ground you.
“I’m.. starting to feel weird.” Your voice came out in a croak, as like it burned to speak; eyes blinking open to stare up at the man before you, which proved difficult given how you could barely focus.
Rex sucked in a breath, his hand gliding from your arm to instead maneuver towards your forehead. From the heat radiating against his palm it was clear you had a fever, terrible enough that it seemed to incapacitate you completely. Such a thought caused the man to worry, something he didn’t typically like doing but he couldn’t help it at this point.
“Are you in pain anywhere?”
You slowly shook your head, causing the man’s hand to glide lower, coming into contact with your cheek. The moment it did, you shivered, eyes shutting close and seemingly leaning into his touch. It felt cooling compared to the rest of your body, a funny thought given his entire power was exploding shit.
Still, it seemed like the remedy to your situation, causing you to basically sink into his touch; a sigh gliding through your nostrils.
This took Rex by surprise, eyes widening slowly at the display. You, the woman he was oh so sure hated him, was leaning into his touch? It truly must be winter in hell for such a thing to happen.
“[Name]..?” He called on hushed breath, throughly confused by the situation. You didn’t respond, at first; seemingly content with your cheek in his hand. But the moment Rex moved your eyes were flying open, reaching over to lock your fingers around his wrist.
“Don’t.. move. Please don’t move.”
You murmured softly, borderline whimpering as you turned to place the full weight of your head into his palm. Your fingers dragged down his wrist to his arm, coaxing him to stay just where you wanted— needed him to be. Your entire body was overheating at this point, your clothes feeling far too restricting as if you were ready to burst out the seams. You released a shuddering breath, shifting once more and allowing your lips to graze his skin, nose pressed up against his wrist in turn.
The moment his smell hit you, you were murmuring a soft swear; nails dragging against his skin as desperation began to fill your entirety.
Rex couldn’t do a thing but sit there and gape, attempting to stay composed despite what was unfolding before him. His fingers twitched as they glided close to you hair, feeling something else twitch as your lips traced his skin— fuck, what were you doing? The man wanted nothing more than to ask just that, tearing his hand away in the process.
But he couldn’t, not with the way those pretty eyes were fluttering at him, clearly so desperate for his touch. Rex’s tongue slipped out to glide across his bottom lip nervously, nearly convulsing as he watched your gaze fall to the simple action.
Everything was growing so hot around the two of you, as if the pheromones had seeped out completely and covered every inch of your room. Silence carried before your lips parted to speak a sweet,
“Rex..”
It took a moment for the man to reply with how his name tasted on your tongue. You had abandoned that usual hint of annoyance and frustration crafted specifically for him, instead choosing something so soft, and downright irresistible it was causing his mind to go wild.
His teeth dragged across his cheek, finally releasing a simple; “What is it? Do you.. want me to go get Robot?”
You couldn’t have shaken your head any faster, hand even tightening around his arm— as if truly scared his touch would leave. You brought your body closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him; eyes carrying down his form as soft huffs pushed through pouted lips.
“No..— please, please stay. I need you to stay, Rex.” A drawn out beg escaped you quickly, Rex sucking in air at your words. Stay? He had no choice but to. The two of you were quarantined after all.
But something told him that wasn’t what you were only entailing. Something, like how your gaze simply couldn’t focus on a single spot; trailing from his face down to his legs— lingering there for a moment before returning back to his features.
“Then wha—“
“I need,” You begun slowly, struggling to find the words as hurried breaths escaped. The feeling running through you was completely foreign, sensations, senses, all of it; cranked up completely to one hundred. Fear of the unknown pooled deep in your stomach, followed by something else entirely the longer you looked at the man before you.
Finally you seemed to find what you wanted, fingers dragging against his skin once more, it pricking with each touch.
“You. I need you, Rex. I need to feel you..”
You were lying. This was a trick to fuck with him right? There’s no way you, wanted him in that way. It was all some ploy to admit something he didn’t want to, right? It had to be..
Rex wanted to open his mouth to refuse you, brain screaming at him to push you away. Push her, push her, push her— it thundered in his head as if the only plausible answer to the situation.
But the moment a single please escaped those pretty lips, the only thought in Rex’s head was;
Fuck this.
The hand upon you gripped your cheek with purpose, the man leaning to snatch your lips in a heated kiss. The moment the two of you connected, a soft whine escaped right into his mouth— your free hand latching onto his body quickly. Your lips moved in such a perfect rhythm, igniting your already hot body to basically boil over. You couldn’t help how desperate your lips were getting, whimpering and whining; practically begging for more out of the man.
The two of you parted, Rex watching the way you attempted to chase his lips, eyelids coming to hang low over green eyes that took you in so intently.
“Rex, please..”
“I hear you.” His words broke through the fog slowly clouding your mind, you completely focused on him and only him. The way he breathed, stared, how he ever so slowly lifted himself to hover over your sweltering body; bringing himself to rest on his forearm whilst the other hand continued to hold your face.
“I got you mama, shit..” Rex dragged softly as he pressed another kiss to your lips, leading his own down to your chin, neck, before stamping kisses right against your collarbone. Your taste was a perfect swirl of salty and sweet, curtesy of your sweat and the body wash you had previously used. The man released your face to instead carry his hand downwards, soon reaching the edge of your shirt; breaching the clothing to spread his hand across your stomach.
Rex could nearly groan the moment his fingers clenched, delighted by the way his digits sunk into your plump flesh— hot against his hand and completely perfect despite what he claimed. His eyes took you in searching for something, anything that would tell him to stop— that you didn’t want this at all. But the man only received a pout, and eyes filled to the brim with want.
For him, and only him.
Such a look had him shuddering, leaning close and muttering a quick so desperate for me right upon your lips— such words causing you to keen and melt into him completely. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, never wishing to let go as you felt his comforting hand crossing from your warm stomach and up, the cool air gliding across your skin the more exposed it got.
You gasped as Rex’s fingers traced your breast for a moment, simply playing with you before allowing two of them to enclose a hardened nipple; stimulating the peak so perfectly that sparks were emitting between your thighs. You couldn’t help but lift your hips up, finding what you wanted — his thigh — and dragging yourself up and down slowly.
The stimulation caused you to pant into him, sounds overtaken the moment his tongue intruded your mouth; licking into the dark space with such interest. With a twirl of your two wet, appendages you were moaning softly, feeling the combined spit trickle down your chin the longer you kissed.
You were already dizzy before but with his mouth, fingers, and thigh; you could only describe your mind being a spiral with no end in sight.
As he pulled away you panted, grinding against his thigh like some pathetic dog in heat— clearly desperate for friction to ease the ache between your legs.
Rex took you in greedily, rising up to his haunches, continuing to tweak your breast whilst his other hand carried from your bed and to your body, dragging across your covered sex. Your shorts were soaked, basically ruined; arousal seeping through the fabric easily. He watched as you practically withered at his touch, not so secretly rising your hips to his hand once again.
With another drag of his hand you were whining, peeking up at the man;
“Rex.. don’t tease, please don’t tease me.”
You were palpable, shaking, wanting, needing— everything and anything Rex could have ever wanted. The last thing on his mind was teasing you again.
He was practically tearing your pants and panties off, tossing them to some corner you could worry about later. Your thighs parted, exposing the way a glossy, slick coated your aching cunt; clit swollen, begging for attention as your hole fluttered. Rex couldn’t help but drool, dipping his fingers to coat in your essence, watching the way you practically shook from the naked touch.
“Fuck.. you’re soaked.” Rex whispered, dragging a finger along before finding your little button, circling it carefully. He watched the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how your thighs twitched, slowly enclosing his hand— refusing to let him go where you needed him most.
Your eyes glossy, a film of pure lust covering the pretty gaze; such a look had the man basically huffing, feeling all inhibitions leave his body in a single trickle. Rex continued to circle your swollen clit, feeling the way you so desperately rose into his hand, he knew this was the most sensitive part of a woman, but god— the way you withered was otherworldly.
“Rex, Rex, Rex..” You were whining his name so pathetically, fingers tugging at your blankets as your hips swiveled in the direction of his finger. The ache inside of you only seemed to grow, the pressure building up in your stomach and threatening to spill over. You could feel the way globs of arousal basically pooled from within you, trickling down to your taint and surely staining the bedsheets.
“Fuck… why do you look so pretty like this?”
The question was spoke out loud, yet truthfully not for you to answer. Rex racked his brain on why exactly he waited so long to have you like this. He was such a dick, truly and utterly— to you, and to himself.
The man’s eyes flicked from your pretty pussy back to your even prettier features, gliding his fingers lower to prod at your weeping entrance; easily pushing two digits in to which your velvety walls basically sucked in.
He wasted no time in thrusting the appendages in and out, enjoying the way your moans pitched so perfectly; hitting every inch of his brain in the best symphony. He scissored and curled, brushing up against that spongy spot you; yourself, have never been able to reach with your own fingers.
And the moment Rex’s thumb rose, sweeping across your sensitive button; you were truly done for.
Your hand flew down to his wrist, gripping, refusing to let him go as rushed cries quickly turned into sharp bellows of his name the longer he ruined you with his fingers. It shouldn’t feel this damn good at all. Not simply because it was his fingers but also because it was Rex himself.
The idiot that always looked at you with such disdain, always treated you oddly, mocking you— the whole nine yards like some little bully. Yet here he was, staring at you so sweetly while easing that desperate ache that only he could solve. Only him.
You would slap yourself later. When your mind wasn’t so warped. For now, you wanted nothing more than to be ruined and built right back up by the man you claimed to hate.
Your nails scratched at his skin, thighs closing in around his arm as that pressure thundered deep in your stomach— ready to burst at any time. You couldn’t help the way tears pricked at your eyes, spilling over with each of your quick blinks.
In your daze you heard Rex coo, maybe whisper; soon feeling him move towards your side, face hovering close to your own whilst his fingers continued that perfect rhythm inside of you.
“I can’t believe I’m seeing you like this,” Awe clung to his words, heavy lidded eyes dedicating each pleasure stricken feature to memory; refusing to let it go. “So fucking perfect like this.. I’m such a dick, fuck—“ Rex wondered if he was suddenly getting infected, given the way you so easily took over every sense of his. He felt, smelt, saw, and tasted just about every inch of your presence; a concoction that even the best bartender couldn’t even begin to replicate.
“—Mm close! Fuck.. Rex, please..!”
Your walls clung to his fingers, peak rising so quickly only to crash even faster. The tears spilled over, coating your cheeks whilst your arousal coated his fingers, and your bedsheets. You shook from the aftershocks, desperately trying to catch your breath; whining the moment you felt Rex remove his fingers.
The man opened his mouth to speak, but you moved much faster, reaching out to plant your hands onto his shoulders. You rose, pressing your lips to his own whilst pushing at his body; affectively getting him to lay onto his back whilst you crawled over his body.
Rex could nearly cum in his pants the moment you laid out amongst him, his hands immediately falling to your plush thighs, tugging them; eyes rolling back at how soft you felt against his skin. And the moment he realized you were dragging your hips, smearing your messy pussy across his covered bulge; the man pulled back to groan, shuddering breaths escaping his chest.
“Fuck, fuck— wait, don’t you need to, recover— [Name]?”
“Nnn.. no, no..”
He watched as you rose to sit in his lap, hips still bucking, still grinding and rolling like some machine that refused to turn off. You looked like a fucking goddess above him, hair a mess yet framing your features perfectly, eyes glossy, lips shining with your combined saliva; Rex wondered what he did he do to deserve such a display.
“Need more.. fuck I need it Rex, please!” With a particularly long drag of your hips you were shaking, hands pressed against his chest, crumpling the shirt he wore within your palms. It was like your body didn’t care you had finished just a second ago, still completely aching in desperation as if you were completely untouched.
Your sweet whines did something to Rex, the man swearing under his breath, the previous worry he held for you no longer present. Wasting no time, he allowed his hands to fall from your body to instead find the waistband of his pants, resting his feet onto the bed to shimmy his garments down to his thighs.
His length sprung from its confinements, tip flushed with pearly globs of white slipping from its slit. You brushed close, sweltering center dragging across it so perfectly the both of you could only groan.
Rex’s hands found your hips again, squeezing the flesh within his fingers as his own hips rose to buck into you. “C’mon mama, it’s all yours.. don’t tease.” His head tilted, eyes fluttering closed the moment you ground against him once again. His tip bumped against your swollen button, dragging to your fluttering hole; prodding there for a moment before slowly pushing past the ring of muscle.
The man downright shivered, sparks running down his spine the way your wet walls clung to his dick, shaping around it so perfectly he swore you were made just for him. You weren’t any better, nearly falling apart as you enveloped him completely— ass rested on his legs, seated so perfectly. The stretch should have burned, but you only felt pure bliss with every inch pushed into you. Filled to the brim, his dick basically throbbing inside you, veins brushing against your walls; hitting places you didn’t even know existed.
You didn’t wait to adjust, to allow air to even fully expand your lungs before you were lifting yourself until only the tip remained inside— dropping down in one full motion. The moan released you was pure sickeningly sweet honey, clutching the man so desperately as more hurried drops of your hips followed.
Rex clung to your hips for dear life, barely being able to keep himself together. The single thought of don’t come, don’t come, swirled inside his mind; proving more difficult the longer you rode him. His body shook with each heavy pant he released, nails digging into your plush skin as his eyes nearly met his skull.
“Jus… ha— just like that baby, fucking use me—“ His feet suddenly planted firmly upon your bed, meeting each of your ruts with his own thrusts, tip striking your g-spot so perfectly.
Stars invaded your vision, body sweltering, sweat trickling down every single part of your body— but you refused to stop, you couldn’t. You felt as if you could die without this. And they may have been true, with how you were clinging to the man like he was some kind of anchor.
You lowered yourself, quick breaths fanning across his exposed skin; whining the moment you felt his arms wrap tightly around your waist, feeling him drill into you without a care.
“Rex, o—oh god, fuck!” You shoved your face into his neck, sniffling and sobbing as that ache swelled. You weren’t even thinking properly nor making sense, incoherent words that sounded like some jumbled prayer of his name slipping off your tongue far too quickly.
Before you could even breathe the man was suddenly flipping your positions, hands going for your thighs and spreading you open— fucking into you so deeply, you could have sworn he was in your cervix at this point.
“So perfect.. fucking perfect, fuck, fuck..” His words came out in a drawn fashion, eyes glued to your body. He pushed your thighs, watching the way your stomach rolled up in response; Rex swearing he was getting hard all over again. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, ass rippling each time his hips made contact.
Far too quickly you were coming undone, coil snapping without warning leaving you a shaking mess that could only gasp and cry. Your slick escaped, coating his dick; creating a creamy ring around the base as he simply would not, stop, moving. Instead the man lowered, coming closer and sliding your legs to his shoulders.
Through shallow thrusts Rex spoke, “Been so fucking mean to you. You forgive me baby, huh?” All while planting the sweetest kisses against your skin, as if he wasn’t utterly wrecking you.
You could only whine, hands sliding to his back, dragging your nails against him as you shook your head far too fast— making yourself even more delirious then before.
But that wasn’t enough for the man, no, that wasn’t what he wanted, needed.
A hand came between the two of you, easily finding your messy clit and rubbing circles into the bud. You shook, overstimulation biting at your body to the point you were keening.
“Wanna hear you say it, pretty…” Rex spoke in-between sharp thrusts and shaky exhales. “—I was a fucking ass..asshole, and liar; every inch of you is perfect.. shit, you have me obsessed [Name].”
It was clear the man wasn’t thinking straight from how easily the confession swept from his lips, some type of metaphorical weight being lifted off his shoulders the moment it was uttered however. Rex took in the way you struggled to keep your eyes on him, and with how you were tossing back and forth between ecstasy he was sure you hadn’t heard a damn thing.
Still, the pace of both his fingers and hips quickened, moving much closer to kiss you, soft cooes of forgive me, being pushed into your mouth.
Your hands trailed to his hair, bun long forgotten as the strands peeked and slid between the gaps of your fingers. Rex swallowed your last bellow, your entire body jerking as you squirted, making a complete mess of him, yourself, and your bed.
He wasn’t too far behind, groaning into you as he drove himself deeper, gripping your skin as he flooded you with his come; adding to the mess the moment it began to trickle out.
Rex’s hips finally stilled, hand even moving away from your pretty cunt yet his lips remained on you, still kissing you so sloppily yet gingerly. Moments passed of this lip locking before he pulled away for air, forehead resting against your own as he greedily sucked it up.
You panted as well, that once unquenchable ache now very dull compared to before. You melted into the bed, sighing heavily as your hands dragged from his hair to his cheeks, collecting them in your palms.
“I forgive you.” You whispered, watching recollection cross his features, causing your lips to curl into a little grin. “But yeah, you’re a dick.”
Rex couldn’t help the little grin pulling his lips, “I know. But hey, I helped you get rid of that monster plant piss— just had to sweat it out.”
You groaned softly, pushing at his body to which the man laughed, refusing to break away.
in which, MARK GRAYSON from INVINCIBLE, is sick of your attitude.
‧₊˚✩彡
includes: mark grayson x fem!reader, established relationship, reader has a bad day -> mark handles it, mature content (17+) brief mention of missionary, spanking, oral (m. receiving), throat-fucking, spitting, doggy-style, prone bone, creampie, brief aftercare, dom!mark grayson, sub!reader, 3.3k words.
MARK GRAYSON knew how to make love to you.
his touches were tender beyond belief, hands groping, squeezing, adoring in all the right places. lips pressed and puckered against your skin with the reverence of a thousand suns-- affection scorched your soul, and mark was good at making you feel his warmth. his thrusts always reached deeper, farther, than you could imagine-- and when he made love to you, you were certain you could feel him in your throat.
"i know baby, i know," he'd coo, breath fanning against your cheek as he held himself above you with such ease, you'd think he could stay there forever.
mark would argue that he could if he really tried.
his hips would grind into yours, the taunt flesh of his lower abdomen rubbing against the pudge of your belly tantalizingly. "god, mark," you'd gasp, nails scratching down his back-- sure to leave angry red tracks in their wake.
his jaw would clench in concentration, face flushed; "want you to cum baby," he'd stutter, brown eyes screwing shut as ecstasy began to leak from every ounce of his soul. "can you do that? cum all over this dick?"
you'd be panting-- chest heaving up and down, sweet, pathetic moans falling from your lips. you were irrevocably soul-tied to mark grayson; nodding dumbly, not a thought behind your eyes as he coaxed your orgasm out of you (for the third time that night; mark had standards to uphold).
your hole would flutter; strangling mark's cock with such strength it almost pained him. "y-yeah," he'd praise, groaning himself as his cum began spilling into your core, "that's my good girl,"
certainly, those were all things he'd do to you.
or at least, he'd planned to-- the brown of his irises widened almost comically as he echoed your request, hands placed firmly onto his knees.
"you want me to hit you?" mark whisper shouted, as if that would make the taboo scenario any less vulgar.
you rolled your eyes, popping a chip into your mouth. lounging on the couch of your dorm's living room had mark anxious-- especially for a conversation of this nature-- but you assured him confidently your roommates would be long gone for the evening. "yes, baby," an eyebrow of yours quirked upwards. "what happened to, 'yeah, i'll try anything once'?"
mark sputtered at your question, cheeks tinted a pretty shade of pink. "well--" he swallowed. "i didn't think that meant laying hands on and- and being mean to my wife."
"we're not married."
"officially... yet." mark huffed, running a hand through his dark locks. "i don't know," he whispered, your name rolling off the tip of his tongue with ease.
your face fell softly-- and you placed your chip bowl on the small coffee table in front of you, reaching for your boyfriend's hands. "if you really don't want to, we obviously don't have to," you began, voice soft, "but i just wanted to try something new; if either of us don't like it, we can stop immediately."
mark's eyes were full of devotion as he stared at you. it was silent for a few moments, before he spoke. "the issue isn't that i don't want to," he mumbled quietly, "i jus' don't know how." he had a childlike pout on his face, and it made you laugh softly.
"start doing your homework, then."
mark cocked an eyebrow upwards at you. "you want me to... watch..." his voice trailed off, and you nodded, grinning slightly.
"if that's what you need to do-- you'll figure it out soon enough, baby," you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. you were satisfied with the outcome of this conversation-- and turned to watch whatever bullshit sci-fi movie mark had turned on intently.
at least it wasn't seance dog, you conceded inwardly.
✰
it was safe to say you were having a shit day.
you had slept through your alarm, spilled what little breakfast you had managed to make yourself all over your clothes (promptly making yourself even more late), missed your train, and slipped in front of half a dozen people speed-walking to your lecture.
and as you we're now discovering, had also forgotten your wallet on your dresser. fuck.
groaning, you slid the flimsy piece of pizza back towards the cash register-- watching the employee's face twist in confusion. "sorry," your mumbled, shoving your hands back into your pockets, "m'not that hungry."
and you couldn't even lie in peace! your stomach had to grumble comically loud, and you deduced your feet couldn't carry you away from the parlor fast enough-- shame swallowing you up whole.
it wasn't until you got half-way across campus that you paused to catch your breath. you leaned yourself against a small pillar, staring idly at the ground, collecting yourself. from your jean's back pocket, your phone buzzed.
the screen had lit up with a picture of you and mark laying down together, and your ring-tone continued to chime in an endless loop. finger swiping against the screen to accept the call, you pressed your phone to your ear.
"hey babe," mark's voice was light, and you could hear the faint noise of the television whirling in the background. "how's your day been?"
you paused, chewing on the bottom of your lip. you didn't even know where to begin, so you settled on not even beginning at all. "fine." you said shortly.
from the other end of the line, you heard mark's breath hitch. "fine?" he echoed.
"fine."
mark exhaled softly, and you could practically hear the wheels turning within his head; your boyfriend had to tread very lightly. "o...kay," he hummed. "aren't you going to ask how my patrol is going?"
agitation boiled in your stomach, curling angrily at your tongue-- coming out uncontrolled and unexpected towards your poor mark. "you're not on patrol, mark. i can hear that stupid fuckin' show you always watch in the background."
though you couldn't see it, mark's brows rose into a slight shock. the call was silent for a few moments-- before mark simply recited your name into the phone, hanging heavily in the air.
"what?" you snapped, taking off towards your next class. "look-- i have to go, i'll talk to you when i'm back."
maybe you had pressed the hang up button too fast, and maybe you had spoken a bit harshly. guilt slowly bloomed in the back of your mind, and shit. you should really apologize to him-- he didn't deserve--
the sensation of cold, mildly chunky liquid hit the right side of your body. some sort of muddy solution had coated your torso, and you stood silently in shock for a few moments. the perpetrator, a biker, barely looked back at you as he passed, the tires of his bike dragging a pathway of puddle water behind him like evidence.
"oh shit--! my bad!" the man called out, before pedaling away without a second glance.
you exhaled, cursing underneath your breath.
you really needed a fucking break.
✰
one bruised ego later, you returned to your dorm. it was silent, save for the soft murmur of someone's phone playing idly in your bedroom. with a practiced ease you slipped your shoes off and plopped your back-pack onto the kitchen table, trudging over to your bedroom.
mark laid sprawled out on your un-made bed, his cheek pressed against the fabric of your comforter softly. brown eyes met yours, and you felt something spur to life within you-- though you couldn't place what exactly-- frustration blurring your common sense.
"hey," mark tried, twisting to face you. in the process, you suppose he must've seen your wallet sitting in the same exact place you had put it the previous night-- your dresser. "you left your wallet here." he offers, scratching at the back of your neck.
your jaw ticks.
it's really not mark's fault, nor does he deserve to face the brunt of your anger-- but you just can't stop yourself, especially being as hangry as you are.
"i know." you say sharply, rolling your eyes. your thoughts begin to spiral and suddenly words-- mean, nasty, and hurtful words-- are being thrust into the air. "god, did you seriously think i wouldn't have noticed my wallet was gone? of course i did--"
"stop." mark's voice is different. authoritative. your name on his tongue cuts through your anger sharply. he's sitting up now, on your mattress, his head tilted slightly to the side and resting on his shoulder. "you," he accentuates, "don't know what you're saying."
his accusation (no matter how correct) makes your eye twitch. "i do know what i'm saying, what the fuck are you--"
"do not curse at me." mark says steadily, standing. "we do not curse at the people we love,"
you stand in front of him silently. your mouth has spread into a thin line, and much to your own dismay, you don't have anything to say to that.
luckily, mark continues for you. he reaches forwards, grabbing your forearm-- his grip being tight enough to make a point, but never enough to hurt. "you've had a bad day," he says, as if its not common knowledge. "i get that." mark's voice is low.
"but that's not an excuse to be a brat about it,"
he leads you towards the edge of the bed, where he takes a seat again; hands grasping your arms to prevent you from mirroring him. "take off your pants."
something in your gut curls deliciously. "i'm not really in the mood to be told what to do," you whisper, challenging him.
mark's eyes squint at you, before he sighs, exasperated. "fine," he says evenly, tugging you forward forcefully and sticking his hands down the sides of your pants. "i'll do it myself." in one swift motion, your jeans have pooled at your ankles, leaving you in your shirt and panties.
just when you think mark's had his fun at being dominant, you feel him tug you-- stomach first-- onto his knees, bending you at your hips. "not in the mood to be told what to do, hm?" he whispers, rubbing a large hand against the plush of your ass.
the sound of his palm meeting your ass crackles throughout your bedroom, his touch leaving a mocking burn sizzling at your skin. "too bad. you're going to listen."
you gasp, hips immediately bucking away from the sensation. "mark--!"
"ah-ah," he warns, hand coming down onto the fat of your behind again. "where are you going? don't run."
mark is having much more fun with this than he originally anticipated he would; watching you squirm in his hands, cheeks (both sets) redden, and attitude falter-- it's all too good to be true.
you whine, though your back curves towards your boyfriend's hand as if you can't get enough of this.
mark is silent, though his smirk is loud.
"my baby was so mean to me today," mark coos, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "s'only fair she gets a taste of her own medicine," he brings his hand down onto you again, and you're moaning.
despite your position, you attempt to squeeze your thighs together-- the itch, the burn, the desire, for mark to pay attention to your pussy growing steadily unbearable.
"please," you whisper, swallowing deeply. "please touch me."
"you want me to touch you?" mark asks, using a finger to peel your panties to the side-- unveiling your sopping cunt. it glistens under the soft light of your bedroom, and mark sucks on his teeth loudly. he drags his index finger from your clit to your hole, touch infuriatingly light. "i don't think you deserve it."
you could sob. "no, please, m'sorry,"
"you're sorry?" mark coos, palm running along the burning skin of your ass soothingly. he moves suddenly, pushing you off of his lap and onto your knees. you sink to the carpet, looking up at mark through your damp lashes. "why don't you show me how sorry you are?"
it's phrased as a question-- but mark's voice is stern; he's not asking.
you're nodding before you can think. nimble fingers fumbling with the draw-string to your boyfriend's sweatpants, you tugged them down (along with his boxers) past his hips.
he's hard. the tip of mark's dick blushes furiously, and he's leaking pearly pre-cum already.
a hand wraps around its base, and you lick a singular stripe from his nuts all the way to his tip-- following a prominent vein, you feel mark shiver underneath your touch.
"fuuuuck," he hisses. "that's it, baby, shit,"
you waste no time in popping mark into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks with ease. mark's hands go to gently collect your hair, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles.
you gag softly, taking the rest of him in your mouth. he's so big-- eyes prickling with tears as his tip caresses the back of your throat.
"you can take it," mark groans, hips stuttering upwards into your face. "this mouth," he's gasping, your name echoing throughout your bedroom with passion, "fuck, baby. s'so good,"
mark is throat-fucking you now, perhaps unaware of his strength; he holds your head closely and his lower abdomen meets your nose repeatedly, the only noises emanating from your bedroom being his groans and the sound of you choking on his cock.
"ohh, fuck, m'gonna cum," mark announces suddenly, eyelids drooping hazily. he pulls himself out of your mouth-- and the state you're in is nothing short of obscene. your hair sticks to your face in patches of sweat, tears are running down your cheeks, and spit dribbles down your chin.
the sight makes mark's cock twitch, and he gives himself a few lazy pumps before cumming all over your face. "look at you," he moans, chest heaving. "covered in my cum. this s'what happens to sluts who wanna talk back,"
you can't help yourself-- the feeling of his sperm drenching your face make your cunt pulse, and a hand snakes itself between your legs to roll your clit desperately. you're gnawing on your bottom lip; absolutely enthralled in the stimulation.
"hey," mark's foot nudges your hand away from your pussy. "did i tell you you could touch yourself?"
your stomach rolls, and your voice comes out hoarse as you speak. "no,"
"that's right," mark loops his arm underneath your armpit, easily manhandling you upwards. using his strength, he pushes you flat against the mattress, face downwards and ass up. "i didn't."
his palm meets the plush of your ass again, and you whine-- tired of being teased.
"since you're so desperate," mark's lips purse, before he leans down slighty-- spitting onto your pussy. you feel the saliva run down your slit, and you clench uncontrollably. "you're going to take it; take how i fuck you."
his plump tip suddenly prods at your entrance, and you feel one of mark's hands press into the middle of your shoulder blades keeping you pinned to the bed. he sinks into you, inch by inch, stretching you wider than you thought possible. his cock, quite literally, steals the breath from your throat.
you and mark have had sex before-- obviously. you've felt the way his cock has driven into you at a heavenly pace, felt the way he's ground his hips into yours with nothing but love oozing from his actions. felt the way his kisses have soothed your overstimulation, and you've felt the way he's made love. now, though, as mark bottoms out with a groan-- it feels different.
it feels like there's something that hangs in the air-- charged with frustration, anger, lust. it bubbles up in your throat, and as mark pulls back the first time only to slam into your weeping pussy-- an apology rips itself from your throat.
it's muffled, as mark's hand shoves your head deeper into the mattress. "m'sorry," you moan shakily, eyes rolling back into your skull.
mark laughs. it's breathless-- mocking, even-- before you feel his lips meet your shoulder. a brief kiss, as if to say: it's okay, i forgive you, i love you so much, you're so perfect for me.
what he says though-- breaks the softness he'd barely offered. "you made your bed," he pants, thrusting into you messily. mark's cock pounds your g-spot over and over and over again-- one of his feet propped up onto the bed to aid him in getting the right angle. "now lie in it."
he's stretching you out, going deeper than you think you've ever felt, and being nastier than you thought was ever possible for mark grayson. it causes you to moan loudly, voice being shoved into your mattress.
a white ring begins to form around mark's cock as he continues to pound you-- turning your head, you gasp, "h-holy shit, mark, i'm cumming--!"
something inside your boyfriend snaps. your orgasm had snuck up on you without much warning-- and now his was doing the same. mark brought his palms to your hips, yanking you backwards and onto his dick repetitively. he was chasing his own pleasure, being selfish, for once.
"yeah? c-cum for me, yeaaa, cum all over this dick," he's moaning noisily now, unafraid of your roommates and neighbors. through glassed over eyes, you can see mark's head tilted backwards, jaw hanging open ever so slighty. "fuuck, pretty girl, i'm going t'cum too,"
mark is just so beautiful-- sweat glistens underneath the lights of your room across his chest, beauty marks moving in sync with his muscles as he continues to fuck you. his dark hair is wild, lips bitten red, swollen, and shiny-- and you swear you see drool running down his chin.
the boy makes a point to grind into you deeply, finally unable to hold himself up from behind you. he falls forwards onto your back, hips stuttering as his load begins to unravel within you.
the weight of him is what pushes you to a second orgasm-- out of nowhere, your body pulses and jumps, cunt throbbing selfishly, drinking every last drop of his cum. you're crying out now, babbling variations of oh god, mark i can't, this is too much, feels too good, when you feel his breath hit the back of your neck.
mark is gasping too-- struggling to catch his breath as if he doesn't have viltrumite stamina. "god," he groans, voice hoarse.
"yeah." you agree. your face is sticky with sweat, saliva, mascara, and remnants of mark's cum. you feel filthy.
there's silence for a few seconds, as mark sits up to really look at your figure. the skin of your ass is raised in the spots where his palm came down onto you, and your face looks like something out of a porno.
"you feel better now?" he asks, almost shyly, despite how he was absolutely tearing your shit up mere moments ago.
"..what d'you mean?" the question comes out hazily from your mouth; clearly, you still remain quite cock-drunk.
mark flushes a pretty shade of pink. "i just...saw something about takin' care of your girlfriend when she's had a bad day so... y'know," his voice trails off, and you watch him fiddle with your torso-- a finger tracing the curve of your waist to your hip.
you laugh-- more than you mean to, honestly. but its warm, comforting-- and welcomed, given your nasty remarks all day. "you mean you want to know if you've properly fucked the attitude out of me?"
your vulgarity makes mark's ears go red-- though a dimpled smile paints its way onto his face. he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "your words, not mine."
"well," you clear your throat, rolling onto your back. "i think you did a sufficient job, markus."
"good," mark pinches your hip playfully, before laying down beside you. "'cause i did my homework."
PLUVOiA '25 ® - masterlist - based on this req.
loren's thots: i watched mickey 17 the other day going in FULLY for steven yeun and came out sobbing w/ an unabashed love for robert pattinson. like oh ok! mind u ive never liked rob like that so.......him as a pathetic lil wet dog bf is soo appealing
pairing: brother's best friend!bucky barnes x f!reader, AU setting
summary: It doesn't matter that you're obsessed with your brother's best friend - the one you have had a very complicated relationship with since childhood. It doesn't matter that you fantasise about him, nor does it matter that you keep a diary of all your dirty thoughts because he will never, ever know.
warnings: 18+ mdni!!, smut with minor plot, childhood frenemies to lovers, fingering, unprotected p in v, dumbification, creampie, dacryphilia, mean bucky, size kink, brat taming, bigdick!bucky, tummy bulge, general filth and debauchery, jealousy, use of petnames (sweetheart, baby, angel etc.), reader described having hair bucky can twirl and as being smaller than bucky, no use of y/n, lots of cursing, bucky convinces reader to let him hit it raw (idk if that's a warning lol), moodboard pics do not depict reader
word count: 11.1k
a/n: idk if this is deranged in a hot way or just deranged but i hope you enjoy lmao. bucky is very mean in this and invades reader's privacy so stay away if that's not your thing!!
The abrasive, thrumming buzz of the lawnmower lets you know he’s back. You stop tapping on your phone, pausing for just a moment while you try to resist the urge. You fail. You pull up to your knees and peer out the window beside your bed.
Bucky is in your back garden, driving forward the shabby rusted lawnmower that lives in your shed. The one that has likely never been used by anyone but him. He’s not shirtless like he sometimes is - he’s in a black t-shirt - but you swear you can make out the muscles of his strong back even from this distance. The way they clench and tense with mild exertion. A heat settles low and deep in your stomach.
He’s waving before you realise you’ve been caught. You roll your eyes - exaggerate it a bit so you know he can see - and slump down on your bed again when he gives you a slanted smile.
The air around you feels damp and raw now in a way that has very little to do with the early summer heat. You force yourself onto your stomach and stuff your face into your pillow.
You can’t keep doing this to yourself.
Or, rather, he can’t keep doing this to you. However excruciating his presence is when your family is around, it’s so much worse when they’re not.
Most of the time you want to throttle him. It had been that way since you were kids. You can still feel the grovelling embarrassment of being somewhere close to ten years old and begging him and your brother to let you tag along with them to do something stupid like peeking through the dirt-grimed windows of a neighbour’s house or sneaking into a derelict, moss-eaten hotel until someone called the cops. In defiance of all stereotypes, your brother never had a problem with it. He has doted on you since you were in the cradle.
Bucky, though. He was never receptive to it. He would let you make your case, watching you humble yourself with calculating, amused eyes that looked slightly wrong on a boy of only twelve years. You can still remember how he would make a big show of deliberating, before simply handing out a ‘no’, and moving away. Your brother would shoot you a remorseful grin but always followed after him without hesitation.
On the rare occasions he did let you trail after them, he made you regret it. He would poke and prod at you, pulling lightly at your hair or making fun of you until big, fat, brutally-resisted tears would well up in your eyes. Oh, you remember how much he used to enjoy that - the mean smile he wore while he called you a crybaby. It always ended with your brother sternly telling him to lay off, before walking you home.
Your parents refused to hear a bad word about him. They still won’t.
You’re not really sure what is up with Bucky’s family and his home life. You just know that he had always spent more time at your house than his own. Once summer rolled around, it was like he forgot he even had a house of his own to begin with.
Your parents treat him less like a guest and more like a favourite son. The guest bedroom became Bucky’s room when you were eleven. When he tinkers around and puts together your mom’s overly-complicated coffee machine or fixes the hot water or - the very worst - mows the lawn, your parents treat him like a king. They rave in public and private about how they don’t know what they would do without him. When you had tried to tattle as a kid, the most you would get was a patient rub on the back.
It was a push and pull between the two of you. Always had been. Bucky was either acting bothered at your presence, poking and prodding at you cruelly - or irritating you with his own presence and annoying taunts.
And all of that was annoying. Is annoying. But nothing compares to that feeling. The one you’re experiencing right now.
It started when you were pushing sixteen. You had stopped asking to tag along a few years ago but that summer was different. Bucky was told by your brother, firmly and categorically, that you would be hanging out with them whether he liked it or not. He stared at you with odd fixity but made no protests and suddenly you were part of the friend group. Your brother had a crush on your best friend Wanda, who was also hanging around a lot that summer. That played into it. But you took it as a win regardless.
You spent most of your time that summer hanging out in a clearing in the woods by your house. There was nothing else to do and even if there was, you had no money to do it. Most of the details of the day itself now evade you - they’re blurry around the edges. There was a new addition to the group whose name you cannot now remember. A persistent, uncomfortable pass made for you. Your brother distracted by Wanda. A few coarse comments made, before the new guy began to touch.
What you do remember - what you well and truly cannot forget - is what happened after that touch. The way Bucky propelled up from where he sat on tree branches and lichen. How he grabbed the collar of What’s-his-name and flung him to the ground with one heavy, solid punch. The silence afterwards. The crawling shameful pang of excitement in your gut.
You never looked at him the same.
It’s not for lack of trying.
God - you try. You try so hard. You have tried for so many years. But every fling you had in college ended up wearing his face when you closed your eyes.
Thoughts of him run through your mind while you fill your pillow up with gasps. You’re sure that if you wrung out the fabric or pressed down hard, those sighs would have to spill back out, surround the room with breathless cries of his name.
But you have graduated now. You’re back home until you find a full-time job and this childhood crush will no longer do. It’s remarkably inconvenient, the way your knees go weak and wobbly when he walks in the room, even while you paint a snarl on. The way a hot, sticky warmth begins to flood the space between your thighs when you watch him work like he is today.
And you’ve tried everything there is to try. You’ve tried dating other people - it usually ends sour. You made a trip or two to the counsellor on campus. You had even left stop-sign stickers around your dorm room as a reminder to snap out of it when you are thinking about him.
At Wanda’s recommendation, you have started a diary. Every time you think about him or let yourself get stupidly, fantastically turned on by him, you create a new entry. Not all of the entries are about him - some are flimsy little notes to distract yourself - but they all lead back to him one way or another. Once the book is full, you will burn it. You started it just before you left campus three weeks ago and the book is almost half-way full.
You know it’s a stupid idea. It won’t work, which is why you have already sought out a witch on Etsy for when this fails.
The deep, low tingle at the bottom of your stomach hasn’t ceased, because even while deep in thought, the image of Bucky’s strong back and his bold, lopsided smile are still running behind your eyes. You become suddenly aware that you’re lightly sweating. Your underwear is warm and damp.
You glance over at your diary on your bedside table - most recent entry late last night, courtesy of your traitorous imagination. You sigh and pick it up.
Bucky sees you in the window to your bedroom. You’re just a little floating head above the window sill. He can’t make out an expression very clearly. He waves and forces back a laugh when he sees your bratty eye-roll, the way you flop away dramatically.
You’re back home. For the summer, at least. Until all those fancy graduate jobs in New York or Boston or Philly start opening up.
He doesn’t need to be here, if he’s being honest. Has no reason to be. The lawn has no need for mowing and there’s not a damned thing left in the house to be fixed. His own apartment isn’t exactly a paradise, but it’s not bad either.
You won’t be here forever, though. He’ll take what he can get in the meantime.
He likes how it feels to annoy you without a buffer. With no parents to be on his best behaviour in front of, no brother to shoot him warning glances when he pokes too hard.
He regresses slightly every time he floats back into your orbit. Falls out of adulthood and back into the familiar rhythm. The push and pull.
His childhood crush has matured into something deeper, but his actions haven’t. He still tugs your pigtails in a metaphorical sense. It’s much too late to get you to see him as anything but an annoying, big brother-type figure now, but he can deal with that. He likes watching you get riled up, anyway.
You regress around him too. He takes great satisfaction in that. You walk into the house after months of being away, haughty and put-together, like you had finally done all your growing up in college. A few grating words from him can make you twitch a little bit while you fight the urge to snap, irritation spilling through the cracks. And you eventually do crack. All the way. Every single time.
He mows until the short tufts of grass turn to clippings. He spares no blade, weed or flower and thinks about you, lying up on your bed. Probably doing something dumb. Probably scrolling on your phone or flipping through some magazine. He remembers when you were thirteen and he found that stash of teen-pop magazines in your room, the pages with boyband members dog-eared, hearts circled around their pictures. He smiles, thinking about the way you screamed when you caught him red-handed. How you told him to “stop being such a pain in my ass”, pushing him out your bedroom door and slamming it shut behind him while he laughed. You were sulky at dinner afterwards.
He rolls the mower back into the shed, ties the padlock and tugs at it twice before walking into the house through the sliding glass doors.
He’s sweating lightly. He takes a quick swallow of water from the glass on the counter - whether it’s yours or his, he can’t remember - and licks a few beads of moisture from his upper lip. He feels good.
He flops down on the couch, puts on some show indiscriminately and wonders what you’re doing right now. He wonders if you’re on the phone with your college friends. Or with that Matt guy he had heard about through the grapevine. He wonders if you’re wearing the same tight shorts you had on yesterday.
He considers going upstairs to annoy you but thinks better of it. He will wait a while to see if you come downstairs on your own.
He imagines Matt as some football player. He can’t picture a face - just some obscure blur - but he’s probably handsome. Definitely blonde. Social butterfly. Good grades. He can’t see you going for someone without good grades.
Bucky’s grades were never great, but you were such a little swot. He used to sit alongside you while you did your homework. When you would tell him to get lost, he would shoot back that he had homework to do too. It’s probably the only reason he graduated high school.
Matt is probably biding his time right now until you both have steady jobs so he can propose. He’s probably boring as shit. Fucks you missionary for thirty seconds before rolling over onto his back. He probably asks you whether you came afterwards, and you probably talk to your stupid college friends about how much he cares and how respected you feel.
But that’s a dangerous avenue to walk down. Because now he’s thinking about how you would look afterwards, naked and unsatisfied. Would you ever think about shooting him a text when Matt drifts off to sleep after getting his rocks off? See if he could sort you out any better than your boring fuck of a boyfriend?
Obviously not. But it’s a nice thought.
You probably don’t do any of the things that Bucky would want to do with you - and definitely not with Missionary Matt. You’re too fucking prissy. No way in hell are you letting anyone take you the way Bucky wants to.
He doesn’t even understand why his brain has chosen you of all people to be the star of every daydream he has had since he was old enough to know what a crush was. You’re arrogant and spoiled and you think that just because you attract men like flies to shit that you can bat your eyes and get whatever you want. (You absolutely can. Bucky has tried to be the one exception to that rule, but he’s also just a man.)
Unfortunately, he knows all of this and still desires you desperately. And the want that pours out of him in waves isn’t strictly sexual - in fact, it’s mostly something else - but he’s not sure how to define it. He likes you, except ’like’ doesn’t seem strong enough to cover all he feels. So it’s easier to focus on the sex. Maybe that way he can convince himself it’s all he wants.
He has run out of patience. You still haven’t come downstairs and he can only deny himself for so long.
He takes the stairs two-at-a-time, but paces himself so you don’t hear his footsteps and think he’s eager. Your bedroom is at the very end of the hall. When he approaches your white door - still adorned with stickers and tags from every phase you ever went through - he thinks about knocking. He doesn’t.
He can’t remember the last time that he was in your room, but it is exactly as it always was. Pink wallpaper. A white desk in the corner armed with perfectly positioned sticky notes and neat, alphabetised folders. Stuffed animals perched in a line atop your bed like marching soldiers. Posters on the walls from films you thought made you seem edgy when you were fifteen, in direct opposition to the frilly pink decor of the room.
The only thing missing is you, but he can hear the shower going in your ensuite.
He goes to sit down on your bed and focuses deeply on not getting a hard-on while he watches the bathroom door. But he lands on something solid.
Reaching underneath his thigh, he picks up a little pink notebook, turns it over in his hands. More little stickers plastered to the front, hearts scribbled onto it with a pink gel pen. He knows instantaneously that he has gold dust in his goddamn hands. He expects to feel at least a little guilt or shame for what he is about to do and is mildly surprised to find he doesn’t.
This is your diary.
The first entry is from three weeks ago.
22 May
I just broke up with Matt. It was awful. He kept asking me why. I had to say that I didn’t want to live in Boston like him. He said he would find a different internship and we could go to New York instead, and then I really had no idea what to say. It’s not like I could tell him the real reason. He cried. I’m just glad it’s over.
I think I should feel at least a little bit sad about it, but I don’t. I’m just relieved and feeling awkward. I don’t think I could let him fuck me one more time without going out of my mind. This really is a curse. I hope he moves on quickly. I think Suzy is into him.
Bucky can’t help the stupid grin that breaks out across his face. Looks like Missionary Matt was too boring, even for prim little you. No engagement on the horizon after all. He shifts around slightly on the bed in the guest bedroom and tries not think about what might have been so lacking in the bedroom with Matt for you.
23 May
My family are ditching me. They’re all heading off to the south of France for three weeks, but I won’t be home from college early enough. They fucking suck. I wonder if Bucky will still be hanging around. Three weeks of torture incoming.
He laughs, loud and long, at that. What a spoiled little brat. Still, it’s kind of cute.
Bucky was asked to join your family on their holiday and declined. Partially because he still, after all this time, doesn’t quite believe them when they say it’s not a bother. But it was mostly because of a selfish hankering to be able to hang out with you alone. To not have to check himself when his gaze lingers a little too long or when he presses you a bit too hard to be able to convincingly feign disinterest. He reads on.
23 May
Now that I have thought about it, I can’t stop. Bucky is going to be hanging around the house. He always hangs around the house, even when nobody else is there. Dad said he’s going to help him with building a new shed outside. I wonder if he will be doing that while they’re gone. I remember that one time he helped Dad with that old vintage car he bought on a whim. I could see him from my window. He was shirtless and working under the car from a skateboard like something out of a goddamn porno. I think I’ll die if I have to see him do something like that again.
Bucky’s grin is frozen on his face, skin heating up around his bones. The shed would be a good excuse to stick around now that he’s done everything else - he had forgotten about that.
He wasn’t aware you had been watching him fix up that car from your window. That must have been, what - two? three? - years ago. Old Pontiac runs like new now. His eyes catch on the word ‘porno’, scribbled in your pink, curly writing. He thinks about you watching him from above.
24 May
I might be going insane. I shouldn’t have let myself think of the visual of Bucky under that stupid car last night. I think it’s a good thing I dumped Matt. I would have let him fuck me and felt so guilty afterwards for imagining someone else. I handled it myself but I woke up feeling just as riled up. My fingers aren’t big enough. Maybe I should buy a dildo or something. Bucky’s fingers are huge. One time he put his hand over my mouth because he said I was whining too much and it covered more than half of my face.
The blood rushes to his cock so fast it leaves him lightheaded. He has to read the entry twice to make sure he didn’t black out and invent something out of wishful thinking.
25 May
This stupid diary isn’t doing shit. It’s making it worse. Every time I write something down, it just makes me think about it more. I spent all of yesterday thinking about Bucky’s stupid fingers. I hate him so much. I want him to bend me over something and fuck me until I’m an inch from passing out. Maybe that’s all I need to get this out of my system.
26 May
Today I thought about that time last summer when we were at the bonfire and I made out with that guy in the Bulls jersey and snapback. I forget his name.
Bucky looked so angry. I think that’s why I did it. I think I wished he was jealous, even though I know he was just pretending he’s my fucking brother or something. It made me think of that time he punched that other guy in the clearing in the woods just for touching me. I forget that guy’s name too.
Bucky hasn’t forgotten either of their names. The bonehead from the bonfire was Jon and the asshole from the woods was Robby. And he was jealous. He was so fucking jealous. His dick is hard as a rock in his jeans, head spinning.
28 May
Yesterday was ok. I kept myself busy. Today has been terrible. Mom sent me a group picture of everyone eating dinner out in the back garden and Bucky was wearing a tight, white t-shirt. He looked so big, even bigger than when I last saw him. I just kept wondering if his cock would be big too. I zoomed in and took a screenshot like some fucking pervert. I got myself off so many times and I still feel like I haven’t gotten it out of my system. I literally fingered myself until my sheets were-
“Fuck,” he grunts, strained even to his own ears. His eyes squeeze shut and his dick throbs violently at the idea of your little fingers pushing themselves into your pussy at the thought of him. He’s not sure how much more of this he can read before jizzing in his pants like some kind of virgin.
Who knew? Who fucking knew? His stuck-up little priss isn’t so prissy after all. He’s a bit dizzy with want and some other unidentifiable sensation. Something warm and gooey in his chest.
He almost likes how ashamed you are of it. It makes it that much more satisfying - like he’s won some game that he didn’t even know he was playing. He’s dimly aware of the fact that he lost the very same game himself, but he ignores it.
You would be so embarrassed to find out he is reading this. You would yell and scream and throw shit around the room in a tantrum like a toddler. You might never speak to him again. Even so, he can’t help himself but flick over the pages to the most recent entry. It feels like a spoiler to a book he hasn’t finished.
14 June
He came around with the lawnmower again. It’s getting harder every day not to get myself off to the thought of him-
He clearly missed that part. He wonders how long ago you made that resolution. He will find out soon enough.
-when he looks that good. I could literally see the fucking muscles in his back through his t-shirt and it was black. I’m so fucking wet. I’m going to have a long, cold shower and tonight I’ll cum to the thought of someone else. Literally anyone else.
Then and there, Bucky decides that won’t be happening.
You feel better after your laborious shower but only for a matter of minutes. You walk into your room wrapped in your bathrobe and notice that you can no longer hear the lawnmower. Bucky must have finished the job. He’s probably in the shower now, washing off the pollen and sweat.
And that does it. You sigh at the stickiness forming between your legs and reach over to your bedside table for your diary.
Except it’s not there.
You open and close the small drawer underneath. Ruffle around in your sheets and pick up your stuffed animals one-by-one to look make sure they’re not sitting on it. Eventually you get up and remove the duvet from the mattress, pull the bed frame away from the wall, crawl to the floor. You even go to the bathroom to make sure you didn’t carry it in with you. It’s not there. It’s not anywhere.
You must have left it lying out somewhere outside. Your stomach lurches into your throat. Except that’s not possible, because your last entry was written right here on this bed just before you went in for your shower. You had left your room to get a towel and steal some of your mother’s hair stuff - maybe you had inadvertently carried it out with you. You had been severely distracted.
You dress as quickly as you can physically manage, ignoring the way your wet hair is soaking through your cotton sweatshirt, but when you leave your room your footsteps are hesitant and careful. The idea of Bucky picking up your diary somewhere and deciding to give it a browse sends a cold sweat of terror up the knobs of your spine. Oh god, don’t let him find it. Please don’t let him find it.
You tear the linen closet apart. You even pick up the piles of towels that you know you didn’t touch and shake them out. Nothing. You fold them in a way that would make your mother wince and put them back.
Your parents’ room wields no results either. You run your fingers over the wooden bannister faintly while you walk down the stairs. Bucky isn’t there - thankfully - but neither is your diary. You hadn’t even come downstairs between writing your last entry and going for your shower. That, you’re absolutely certain of. But you’re running out of options.
You have one room left to check, but you will have to play your cards carefully. One wrong move, a bit too much information, and you could find yourself on the receiving end of questions that you would really prefer not to be asked. Or of a bit too much curiosity for your liking.
Your fingers linger over the wood of Bucky’s bedroom door for a whole minute before you can bring yourself to commit to a small, tentative knock. Bucky grunts on the other side and it’s untranslatable but you take it to be an in invite.
He’s lounging on his bed, one ankle hooked over the other, head reclined back to rest lazily on the headboard. He doesn’t move his bored gaze from the television, where some reality television documentary about the daily lives of zoo veterinarians is playing. You’re distracted by it momentarily. You didn’t think this would be his sort of thing.
“What’s up?” he asks you, still not looking your way. He didn’t shower. He’s still sweaty and tense, the smell of grass sticking to his clothes and skin. You try not to look.
“Just saying hi,” you say, shifting feet. You look at the door for a brief moment before deciding to close it awkwardly behind you.
He looks at you then, one eyebrow and one side of his lip quirking upwards in tandem. “Just saying hi.”
You nod. His smile breaks free then, but it’s not altogether a nice one. “Well, hi,” he says.
“Hi,” you mumble back. You continue to look at each other while you fidget, stepping forward cautiously until your knees hit his bed. You look at him expectantly and he rolls his eyes before moving his own legs so you can sit.
“What’s got you all buggy?” he asks sardonically, giving you a light tap on the side with his foot. He’s not wearing his boots anymore, but some grass still rubs off on you somehow. You rub your side and shoot him a look as if it hurt, even though it didn’t.
“I’m not buggy.”
“Yeah y’are. You got bugs.”
“You got bugs,” you snap. “I’m perfectly fine.”
He laughs. “Alright, you don’t got bugs. I have bugs ‘cause I was out there mowing all day. Now what do you want?”
Your stomach gives an odd jerking motion at the memory of him out there mowing the lawn. You try to keep any guilt from showing on your face. “Maybe I just wanna talk to you.”
“Oh yeah?” He doesn’t seem convinced. You nod.
“Yeah,” you say, picking at a loose thread his bedsheet. “So what have you been up to?”
“Sweetheart, what’s goin’ on?” he chuckles, turning slightly on his side so he can see you. “You know what I’ve been up to. You saw me out there.”
“Duh,” you say. You roll your eyes again and you can feel him laugh more than you can hear it - the minute little vibration through the sheets. His skin is inches away from yours. If you reached out just a little bit, you could touch his hand.
“Duuuhhh,” he mimics you with an exaggerated Valley-girl drawl. “Why’d you ask then, smartass?”
“I meant, like, after that.”
“After I finished the lawn?”
You nod. You are so desperately bad at this.
“Not much. Watched this,” he says, pointing at the TV. He gets distracted by something there and begins to watch it again. “Did a bit of light reading. What about you?”
Your heart is moving up in a slow but steady elevator to the base of your neck. “I’ve been in the shower,” you say casually. “What are you reading?”
“Long shower,” he says.
“Well it was an everything-shower,” you say defensively, forgetting yourself for a moment.
“The hell is an everything shower?”
“Don’t be dense. It’s literally in the name. It’s called an everything shower because you do everything in the shower.”
His gaze flies back to you then, dark and questioning, eyebrows raised slightly. It takes for his lip to twitch into a small smile before you come to your senses.
“A-as in,” you stammer. “You do all your self-care stuff. Like shaving and exfoliating and hair masks. That kind of everything.”
His smile widens and he nods, half sarcastically. “Right. That kind of everything.”
Your face heats up. There’s a brief pause.
“So what are you reading at the mo-”
“Y’know I think you’d like this,” he says, pointing over to the TV again. You glance over distractedly. A giraffe is giving birth standing up. You can’t help the way your nose twitches slightly as you take in all the blood and goo onscreen.
“Why is that?” you ask.
“There’s this one girl who cries every time an animal dies. She’s been working there five years and she still cries every time. She’s like you.”
“I’m not like that.”
“Yes you are,” he laughs and the sound travels through you. “Remember that one time you cried because your dad asked me to catch and kill that mouse?”
You do. He had been strangely nice about the whole thing. He made a makeshift humane trap and brought it to the old railway line a few miles away instead.
“I was sixteen-”
“And if you’re tryna tell me you wouldn't react the same way right now, I say you’re full of shit.”
You look at him resentfully. “Like you’re any tougher. You’re the one who saved him.”
“Well you know I can’t help but give you what you want once the waterworks start. You’re a pretty crier, sweetheart.”
You just look at him, feeling a bit dazed and uncomprehending. Saliva floods your mouth and you’re forced to swallow. He just glances over at you for the smallest of instances. You like the handsome, self-satisfied smile he gives himself before turning back to his programme, even though it’s at your expense. You know instinctively that you’ll be failing at your new resolution tonight.
“Shut up. Don’t be weird,” you say, because you can think of nothing else. He huffs with humour and there’s something in his expression that you don’t like.
“So you said you were reading something?” you say. You’re aiming for a casual tone but you think you might be overselling it.
“Mhm,” he says, nodding once. The programme can’t be that interesting, but he seems absorbed in it.
“I didn’t think you liked reading.”
“I have a newfound appreciation for it.” He smiles at the screen and maybe you’re feeling a little jealous. You snatch the remote out of his hands, careful not to let your fingers brush, and blackness eats the image of a family of monkeys. His eyes snap to you with amused surprise.
“What are you reading?”
Your heart is pumping while Bucky appraises you for a second, eyes sliding their way around your flustered face. He licks his bottom lip slowly before sucking it into his mouth. He speaks low.
“Don’t worry about it. ’S’too dirty for you, sweetheart.”
You really fucking hope that doesn’t mean what you think it does. He has the book. Oh dear god, don’t let him have the book.
Your voice comes out weak and fractured. “Are you… reading smut?”
He laughs again, face lit up. Eyes still on you. “That what you call it? Sure. Something like that, at least.”
“Bucky,” you say, voice no more than a horrified whisper. There’s a brutal heat curling in your gut - embarrassment and something else. “What are you reading? Please.”
He looks at you for just a second longer before reaching under the blanket beside him. His hand reaches out again, fingers curled around a book that looks incredibly small in his large palm.
You blink at it for just a second, as if concentrating hard enough might make it disappear. Please make it disappear. Please make it nothing at all.
But then you’re rolling forward, hardly aware of what you’re doing until your back is bowed, a low, despairing groan escaping you while your limbs slip away from you. Eventually you’re played across the bottom of the bed, face firmly pressed to the soft memory foam. If you stay here long enough, your face might imprint itself there. A garbled, monotonous litany is spilling from your lips. You’re not even sure what you’re saying.
Your stomach is going haywire. Bucky is laughing like you knew he would - you fucking knew he would be an asshole about this - and you would go running from the room if it didn’t mean that you would have to move your face from the bed and look at him.
You suppose it’s better that he’s laughing than looking at you with the raw kind of disgust that you had pictured whenever you imagined him finding out about your feelings towards him. Maybe it means that you two can go back to normal at some point, even if the humiliation raging through your body begs to differ.
“Don’t be such a baby,” Bucky says and you hate him. Your face pops up to look at his. Still amused. Still wicked and gleeful.
“Where did you get that?” you bark.
“Your room,” he says, as if it should be obvious. “Interesting read. You should be a writer with that vivid imagination. What did you call it, smut?”
“Fuck you!” you screech, and Bucky physically recoils at the loud noise, irritation crawling onto his features for the first time in this interaction. “You had no right to go into my room and invade my privacy. What the hell is wrong with you? You are such a piece of shit!”
Bucky rolls his eyes while you make your way up the bed and take a swing for his chest. He catches your wrists in time and your traitorous body pauses at the touch.
“Like I said,” he says sternly. “Don’t be such a baby. You need me to help you get this out of your system? What was it you said again? Bend you over and fuck you until you’re an inch from passing out?”
You give one last valiant jerk to break free, but he has a death grip with seemingly minimal effort. You go still while the fight leaves you. Hot humiliation and more than a little arousal course through you.
“Fuck you,” you say again with considerably less vitriol.
“I will,” he says, eyes locked on yours punishingly. “If that’s what you want.”
Your breath stutters, heat rising up the length of your face. You’re not sure if he’s messing with you, but the words are having the intended effect regardless. Your thighs press together gently to alleviate some of the pressure that his words and his eye-contact are creating. His eyes flicker down quickly, following the movement, before moving back up to meet your own gaze.
“Got nothing to say now? That’s ok, baby. I saw enough in that little book. Let’s look.”
He lets go of your wrists and you immediately lurch forward to grasp the diary, but he gets there first. He opens it at a random page.
“I came home from college today,” he starts to read, voice low. “Everyone else was gone, but Bucky was here. I don’t know how it’s possible but he’s so much hotter since I last saw him. He wears a bit of stubble now and his muscles were almost bursting out of his t-shirt. We bickered a little bit in the evening, but the whole time I was just wondering what he’s like in bed. I don’t think he would be sweet and soft all the time, like Matt. Maybe sometimes but I think he would be so mean and rough most of the time. He seems like he knows how to make a girl cum.”
He looks up at you. You feel tears prickle behind your eyes, shame steamrolling through you. You reach for the book again but he moves it out of your reach effortlessly.
“You’re goddamn right I do,” he says, smiling as if he’s talking about something totally innocent. “You want me to show you, sweetheart?”
Your brain is scrambled and the only thing escaping your lips is a garbled mess of vowels. You’re still suspicious. It wouldn’t be entirely unlike him to get you to admit to this and then pull the rug out from under you a moment later.
He huffs an impatient sigh. “Don’t go dumb on me already, silly girl.”
He flicks to another page in the book, smiles, and finally hands it over to you. You take it uncertainly.
“Why don’t you read that for me? Out loud. Jog your memory a bit.”
You’re not sure what you’re doing, but at this point it’s easier to follow instructions than to figure out what to do yourself. You look down, take another hesitant glance at an encouraging Bucky and begin to read with a sheepish, shameful tone. Your face is burning.
“I want him so bad. I think I’ll die if I don’t have him. The orgasms I’m giving myself aren’t enough. I need him to fuck me, even just one time. I’ll never ask for anything else again in my life if I can get his cock inside me just once. I’m going so deranged, I actually pictured him choking me yesterday with those huge hands and it made me cum so hard.”
Your own words have done a number on you. You are stupidly, ridiculously turned on by his eyes on you and your own words echoing around the room. You raise your eyes slowly and sheepishly to meet his and the look on his face is nothing short of starving.
“Fuck it,” he breathes, pulling you forward and into a kiss.
Your unsuspecting mouth meets his with short, stabbing gasps. His right arm moves to the back of your neck, pulling you against him firmly, while the prosthetic arm pulls you onto his lap. His lips move against yours and the only word to describe it is filthy. His lips are still wet from licking them and his tongue is sliding over yours delicately but expertly.
You’re in a state of euphoria. Part of you always wondered whether you had played this up too much in your head. You wondered - if you were given the chance to finally touch him like this, whether it might be a bit disappointing after all you had imagined.
If possible, it might be the opposite. Your body is shaking with adrenaline. Without thinking too much about it, you grind down on his lap and feel his hard length through his jeans. A bolt shoots up your spine. Has he been hard this whole time?
He grunts at the friction, calloused fingers tightening their hold on you. His hand glides slowly down from your neck, through the valley of your breasts and over your stomach, playing with the waistband of your cotton shorts. You’re already so riled up, it makes you press down on him again, clutching at his shoulders as if you could possibly pull him any closer. You’re high off the feel of him when he pulls away, just a few inches.
“You ready to admit it yet? That you want me?”
“I want you,” you breathe. It’s almost embarrassing how automatic the response is. How little you even have to think about it.
You feel his smile spreading against your own face. “I know, sweetheart. Of course I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”
Bucky is on the warpath, tearing your sweatshirt and his t-shirt off in quick succession. He takes a second to zero in on your breasts and you feel mildly self-conscious about your plain black bra, but he seems adequately distracted by them.
He slows down. Unclips your bra with languor. You shove away the sick, jealous feeling that creeps up when he doesn’t fumble even remotely with the clasp.
Once you’re bared to him, he seems to move slower. His hands go up to fondle them with uncharacteristic gentleness and you suck in a breath. His eyes darken to black, shiny knobs at your reaction and he maintains eye-contact with you while he presses a gentle kiss over your nipple, pulling it into his mouth.
A moan slips out at the sensation. So that’s what that should feel like.
“Wanna know a secret?” he murmurs between kissing and sucking, moving over to your other breast. You nod, uncertain whether or not he can see you.
“Want you too. Wanted you since we were kids.”
You look down at him. He is seemingly avoiding your eyes. Your brain is a little hazy but still operational for the most part.
“Since when?”
“Just fuckin’ told you,” he says, moving a warm hand up your thigh. It’s a distraction tactic.
“No but when? What age?” Your voice is coming out breathy with the way his thumb is creeping underneath your shorts, stroking the sensitive crease between your thigh and the hem of your underwear. You wonder with some apprehension if his fingers can sense the warmth radiation from you. You’re soaked through.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, moving back up to kiss you. His thumb strokes over your panties now and you gasp into his mouth.
“Yes it does. Tell me,” you say. Because you’re muddled and jittery and incredibly fucking worked up, but more than all of that - you’re stubborn.
He gives you a hard look for a second, likely deciding whether he will be able to get you to let this go. You’re not.
“Was sweet on you when I was ten,” he says, rubbing you over your underwear harder now. Stars are exploding in your eyes, but the heavy, sluggish machinery that is your brain in its current state still chugs along at its steady, slow rhythm.
“Isn’t that when we first-”
“Yes.”
The shock almost overrides the sensation of his thumb slipping under the waistband of your underwear. But not quite. A loud, whining moan makes Bucky smile, but you still haven’t lost your head completely.
“You’ve liked me since we first met as little kids?”
He makes a loud, frustrated noise that vibrates through you and flips you over so you’re on your back. It happens so quick that it makes you dizzy. He folds himself over you and presses a vigorous kiss to your lips.
“Can you shut the hell up for two seconds?” he grunts, yanking your cotton shorts and underwear over your legs until you’re completely bare underneath him. “Tryna do something here.”
You laugh at him, but it doesn’t last long. He palms your breast briefly before trailing his fingers down, down, down. His fingers just barely graze over your clit and you buck up with a moan. All the humour is gone - you’re struggling to remember what you even found funny in the first place.
He brings his fingers up then to show them to you, glistening with your wetness. “You see how fucking desperate you are?” he asks. “Barely touched you and look how you’re reacting. Nobody’s ever touched you right, have they?”
You shake your head unthinkingly and his smile widens. It’s almost predatory.
“Poor thing,” he says with a smirk, lowering his hand once again to stroke over your clit. “I can tell. All jerky and twitchy. Just wait ‘till I get my cock in you.”
The whine you emit at his words slowly turns itself into a moan as he dips a finger into you. Slow, just feeling. He adds another when he sees how easily you accept the first. You had been right in everything you had ever thought about his fingers and how good they would feel inside you, how much they would stretch you out. Except it didn’t quite cover it.
None of the other college boys you had fucked had fingers like this. Calloused and big and rough. You clench around him when he begins to stroke, expertly curling into the perfect angle to hit that spongey spot inside you. Where the fuck did he learn to do this?
He presses you down with his other hand splayed over your stomach, stopping your hips which are moving down, trying to meet the rhythm of his fingers. The pressure it puts on your lower stomach makes you clench around him.
“Y’feel so fucking tight,” he grunts, eyes on your lips. “This what you wanted, huh? This what you touched yourself thinking about?”
You nod, but it’s not enough. He pauses his ministrations and raises his eyebrows for an answer.
“Yes, I- fuck, yes keep going - I thought about this when I got myself off.”
“For how long?” he demands.
“I- what?” you ask, feeling a bit dumb. His lip twitches impatiently.
“How long have you been thinking about me like this? With my fingers stuffing your tight little pussy?”
Your face heats up with shame, but you know if you don’t answer him, he will stop again. And that’s a lousy deal.
“A long time,” you say, hoping he will accept it as an answer. Thankfully, he does.
“Fuck, sweetheart. Should’ve told me. Wouldn’t have let you go unsatisfied like all these other assholes. Would’ve kept this pussy so busy, you wouldn’t have had the time to write in that silly little book. Would’ve put you in your place.”
“Put me in my place?” you spit, dragged out of the floaty headspace you had been in. Unfortunately you can’t concentrate too much on your anger and indignation. The pleasure he’s giving you is too much to hold on to anything else but him. It does nothing to stave off your incoming orgasm - if it wasn’t so fucked up, you might admit that it probably brings you closer to the edge. His fingers push into you smooth and hard. He grinds his palm against your clit.
“Yeah, put you in your place. Such a fucking spoiled brat, always throwing tantrums and bitching. Whole time you just needed a good fuck. Well I’ll give you plenty, baby. Sort you right out. Your family can thank me for your good behaviour when they’re home.”
There’s something fucked up about the way his mean - and undoubtedly problematic - words push you over the edge. You clench down and all but explode over his fingers, bright spots in your eyes. You’re not sure if you’ve ever come so fast before, or so intensely. Your head is still spinning while you come down, twitching around his fingers until he draws them back out.
Your vision is still slightly blurred, but you see Bucky sliding his fingers into his mouth. He doesn’t even make a show of it - he’s not even trying to make you watch him. He’s just tasting you for the pleasure of it. Your pussy jumps.
When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. You should be spent by now, or at least somewhat less horny but you’re not. Your brain and body have clearly made a pact to make the most of your time with the man who has been driving you crazy for years. You begin to gush again when he bites your bottom lip. He releases a smoky chuckle against your mouth when your hips twitch against him.
He pulls up, standing over the bed to unbutton his jeans.
You’re still a little mad at him over that boorish ‘putting you in your place’ comment, but it does not stop you from getting dizzy when his cock is bared to you.
He’s the biggest you’ve ever seen and it’s not even close. Part of you knew he would be, but you didn’t think it would be this pretty. You didn’t even know a cock could be pretty.
It’s huge and rock hard where it presses up on his stomach. It’s very slightly curved with veins running up the flushed, heavy length. Your arm raises upwards unconsciously just to see how it would look in your hand, but you think better of it and quickly tuck it away again.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks and you realise he has been watching your reaction the whole time. Your face burns. “Feelin’ shy?”
Your mouth opens and closes. “I don’t know how much…” you trail off, uncharacteristically nervous. You’ve never had a problem butting heads with Bucky before. Why is he so intimidating like this?
“Y’don’t know if it’ll fit?” he asks. You nod lightly and watch his cock give a small, light twitch. He takes it in his hand and gives it one slow pump. It makes your mouth hang open.
“Don’t worry, angel, we’ll take it slow. Don’t want to break you. Not this time, anyway.”
Feeling brave, you reach forward and take his warm, heavy cock in your fingers. It looks so much bigger in your hand than it does in his own and the sight makes your gut curl in both dread and excitement. He throws his head back, eyes half-lidded and dazed.
You give him one small pump and he grabs your wrist, shaking his head at you. You glare up at him.
“What the hell, Bucky? Don’t-”
He leans forward, grabbing your jaw in his hand roughly. “I know you wanna play with it so bad, sweetheart, but you can do that later. I’ll let you play with it as much as you want. But I’ve waited long enough and I’m not wasting another second. Gonna fill that tight cunt now. You hear me?”
You’re back in that floaty headspace, body feeling light, head feeling dreamy. You nod.
He smiles, using his leverage on your jaw to bring you in for a kiss while he climbs on top of you. You can feel the head of his hard cock pressing against your stomach.
“Good girl,” he says, moving away to lather kisses over your neck. His hips move to press the tip of his cock against your clit and you gasp. “My good girl You’re so sweet when you’re doing what I tell you to. Wish I’d known I could shut you up like this.”
You’re trying to be pissed off. You really are. But if you can be completely honest with yourself, it’s just turning you on more.
Your brain is almost gone, but you have one last spark of sentience. “Condom,” you gasp. “In my room.”
Bucky laughs against your neck. “You think I’m wearin’ a rubber with you?”
“Wha- yes?”
“Don’t fuck with me, sweetheart, I know you’re on the pill. Seen it in your bathroom.”
“What were you doing in my-”
“I’m clean, just got checked. And I’m willing to bet you’ve never let anyone use this prissy little pussy without a condom before.”
You take a second, trying to assess how you feel about this. He really is such a douchebag, but he’s a douchebag you know incredibly well - he wouldn’t lie to you about this. You’re sure you could talk him into wearing a condom, but it might take a lot of back-and-forth. And his cock is teasing your hole now, and you’re squeezing around nothing, trying to suck him in. His cock is fully lubricated, all from the wetness between your thighs. You don’t say anything, but your body goes a bit limp.
“Yeah?” he says, celebrating his victory with a smile. You feel it against your collarbone. “You gonna let me skip the rubber?”
“Yeah,” you breathe. “Just stop fucking around Bucky. Please.”
He laughs lightly and begins to press in, the tight ring of muscle protesting against his size. You seize up while he stretches you out. It’s leaving a tight and uncomfortable sensation in your abdomen and you let out a quiet yelp.
“Such a good girl,” he says, reaching down to stroke your clit. He’s thrusting in slow, giving you just a little bit more with every press. His voice is low, as if he’s trying to comfort you, but it’s still coming across slightly patronising. “Letting me fuck you raw. Gonna take my cum like the good girl you are.”
You’re loosening up with the help of his dirty words and his fingers on your clit, drawing tight circles. It’s starting to feel good - more than good. But he’s still not in all the way. You have no idea how you’re going to take him.
His cock is insistent inside you, pressing in further and further while he whispers filthy praises and encouragements on your sweat-glistening skin. You brain is becoming jumbled with pleasure and the overwhelming sensation of fullness.
“This what you pictured when those other limp-dick assholes used to fuck you?” he grunts, bottoming out. You yelp at the angle he hits, body squirming around him. You thought you knew what getting fucked deep felt like, but you had never felt this.
He pulls out and presses another punishing thrust into you. You gasp. “Answer.”
“Yes,” you say and you might be on the verge of tears. You can’t wrap your head around what’s happening. Everything feels a little blurry and his finger on your clit is still drawing tight circles. You just know that you need him to move. “Pictured you every time.”
He rewards you by beginning to slowly pull out and in, gently getting you used to his size. You’re filled to the brim with him. “I know. Read all about it in that dirty little book. Made them take you doggy so you could pretend it was me. So fucking desperate.”
Shame and pleasure are amalgamating in your stomach. It’s creating something more powerful than just the feeling of him moving inside you. It’s all becoming a bit too much, but in a way that you can’t help but love.
“It’s okay, angel. I’m no better than you. You turn me into such a fucking creep. Picking up girls who look like you. Leaving the dinner table to jerk it in the bathroom when you get all bratty and whiny.”
Just the thought of that makes you startle, pussy clenching around him. He looks so pretty, blue eyes dark with want, pink lips crushed between his teeth, gaze zeroed in on where you’re taking him, the light imprint in your tummy. The pleasure of it - the culmination of all your want - has you gasping, tears leaking from your eyes and trickling down your cheeks.
He sees it and startles. You can read it all on his face now - the awe and adoration.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooes, thumb reaching up to brush a fat tear from the corner of your eye. “Always been such a crybaby. You’re so pretty like this, such a pretty crier.”
It makes the tears puddle faster, the pleasure bordering on too much.
“I know, baby. It’s so much, isn’t it? I know,” he soothes you, while his hips work in direct opposition - fucking into you with brutality. It’s not just the pleasure, but the overwhelming emotion. You can’t work out exactly what you’re feeling, and you know that now isn’t the time to figure it out anyway.
Instead, you just let yourself feel it. The way his hips grind against yours, the feeling of him stretching you out, the crescendo of all that pent-up want finally bursting into song. You can’t stop looking at him, how pretty and fucked-out he is above you, even when he’s still pretending he hasn’t lost an ounce of control.
“Stop with those fuckin’ eyes,” he grunts, catching your gaze. You’re still teary-eyed and pouty. “Gonna make me lose it early.”
The thought of him spilling inside you does nothing to curb the feeling. Your eyes widen and he grunts, pulling out of you and sitting up with his eyes squeezed shut. He takes a deep, dogged breath.
“Turn around,” he bites out.
With the way his face is pinched, eyes squeezed tight, he might be greatly suffering or experiencing a euphoria of pleasure. You don’t disobey a man at either point.
You spin around, face-down on the bed. You can hear him shuffle around, but seconds pass where you don’t feel his skin on yours. The anticipation makes you shiver.
When you finally do feel his touch, it’s his two hands slowly stroking down your hips. You lean backwards into his touch, whimpering just a little.
“What you whining for now?” he asks from behind you. You hear the smile in his voice.
“Put it back in,” you moan, pushing back on him until you feel his cock prod against your ass. You’re no longer feeling any shame at your desperation. You’re too far gone.
He takes your hip firmly with his prosthetic hand, the other moving down to give your ass a loving pat. “You need it that bad?”
“Don’t be a dick.”
He laughs low. “Still so fucking bratty. Think I can fuck it outta you?”
You can do nothing but nod, head rolling forward while the thick tip prods your entrance, sliding in slowly once more.
“That’s it,” he groans. He feels so much deeper like this. You can feel him all the way up your stomach to your throat. “Knew you’d take my cock like this. Knew you’d feel this good, just didn’t think you’d be this fucking dirty.”
“Fuck, Bucky, I need you,” you moan. You’re obscurely aware of the fact that you’ll probably be cringing at the memory of saying those words later, but it matters very little to you in this moment. “Needed you so bad.”
“Yeah?” he grunts. “Why don’t you tell me what you needed so bad?”
Your brain is moving like slow, heavy machinery again - too slow to come up with anything. “I- no, Bucky, I can’t-”
“Let me help you out.”
His arm reaches out in front of you, pulling out the godforsaken book that started this entire mess in the first place. You’re still a bit dumb, watching him pull open the book and flick to a page he has ear-marked - like a significant page in his favourite book. He slams it in front of you palm pressing it open until you take it from him cautiously. You look down at the book uncomprehending, body still jostling with the force of his thrusts.
“Read.”
Your head spins back, even though you can’t see him from this angle. He can’t be serious.
One firm pinch to your ass confirms that he is.
Face burning and stomach clawing with shame and arousal, you clear your throat. Your voice comes out breathy and high.
“Matt always wore a condom but I think Bucky would be such a jerk about it. I wouldn't even mind. The thought of him coming inside me turns me on so- ooh!”-
Bucky’s hand reaches down below you, stroking at your clit.
“- so much. I really want him to fill me up. I wonder if he - fuck, Bucky - cums a lot. Whenever I think about him fucking me, I picture him filling me up to the brim until I’m dripping with his…”
You can’t go on any more. It just gets filthier from then on and you’re already on the verge of coming again. Thankfully, that seems to do enough for him.
“Jesus, you have a thing for this shit? That’s real fucking dirty, sweetheart. I promise I got a big fucking load for you. You’re the only one who is gonna take it from now on.”
You want to snap that he clearly has a thing for it too, judging by how riled up he is. He’s panting behind you, losing his rhythm. But you can’t do any such thing. All you can do is moan unintelligibly. You feel the familiar prickle behind your eyes, tears spilling out while you sniffle.
“Aw angel, you know what those tears do to me. Can’t help but give you what you want. You want my cum?”
You nod enthusiastically, spasming around him. You just wish you could see his face right now, but you can picture it.
“Fuck, yeah you do,” he growls. “Such a good girl for me. My good girl, all mine. Gonna give you my cum now, never gonna let you go empty from now on.”
With a firm hand between your neck and shoulder, he drags you upright against him. Your hands reach out to balance yourself against the headboard and he moves your jaw back until your mouth meets his. The kiss is brutal and sloppy, the angle not-quite-right, but just the feeling of his lips on yours and the movement of your tongues against each other makes you tumble off the edge.
A surge of unbridled want courses through you. You cry into his mouth, tears spilling between your lips until you can taste the salt. It’s either the taste of your tears or the sensation of your walls fluttering around him that causes Bucky to grunt, dick twitching once before spilling deep inside.
You had thought about this almost obsessively since you were old enough to understand the possibility. Somehow, you underestimated what it would do to you.
You might be floating or flying or drifting out of consciousness, but you are very conscious of the fact that you had never really known what it means to experience true pleasure until this moment. The noises he makes are filthy while he pumps you full of him, but you’re sure you’re likely giving as good as you’re getting. Not that you have the faintest awareness of what you’re saying.
Bucky wasn’t lying. You can feel his heavy load dripping out of you you, messing your thighs and the sheets. He continues to bounce you on his cock slowly and gently even after you have both come down from your highs. You’re sensitive and sore, but there’s something comforting about small, shallow thrusts, even if the squelching noises it’s making are obscene.
Eventually, he slides himself out of you and wraps himself around you instead. He envelopes you in a sort of gentle tackle, pulling your exhausted body with him deeper into the sheets.
“You still with me, sweetheart?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You can feel his stubble against your temples, his breath on your skin.
“Uh huh” you try. It comes out as more of a garble. He laughs, light and airy.
You open your eyes, take in his tired, happy grin. His blue eyes have gone bright again.
“Thought you said you weren’t gonna break me,” you say sardonically.
He plays with your hair, twirls it around a finger. “Might have gotten carried away.”
You roll your eyes. He does a poor imitation of you, rolling his eyes all the way back into his skull in mockery. You try to glare but it doesn’t work against your smile. You settle back down against his chest. Feel it vibrate while he laughs.
“You really meant that?” you ask after a moment. You cough away a scratch in your voice. “About wanting me since we were kids?”
“Hell yeah,” he chuckles. Your head bounces against his chest lightly. “I was so crazy about you when we were kids. Can’t believe you didn’t know.”
“How could I know? You were always so mean to me.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what that means in kid-language.”
“You still are. Sometimes.”
He raises his head to look down at you, searching your face. “Old habits.”
You nod, but you’re still working through everything in your head. Your post-orgasmic brain is working no faster than it was ten minutes ago.
“I’m sorry for reading your diary,” he says after a few seconds and you swear you might see the raw edge of panic sitting somewhere there on his face. “It was a shitty thing to do. I don’t regret it, because I don’t know that I would have ever had the balls to make a move otherwise, but I am sorry.”
It’s so bizarre, so completely unexpected, you can only stare. He’s looking back at you with an uncharacteristic nervousness that makes you slightly uncomfortable. Truthfully, you had forgotten you were even mad about the privacy violation in the first place. Maybe it’s the two orgasms.
You still don’t want to have a heart-to-heart with Bucky - that might be pushing things a bit too far, a bit too early. Instead you lean forward to give him a small, chaste kiss. He smiles.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, pressing small kisses to your lips, moving down your cheek and on to your neck. “Just wait ‘till I get my tongue on you.”
You tense up, resolutely ignoring the heat pooling low in your stomach. There is no way in hell you can endure another round right now. Your limbs are still shaking.
Whatever expression is on your face makes Bucky laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll give you a couple hours. We got two long weeks in this house by ourselves.”
a/n: the diary entries are basically just my dms with my moots lmao
In which you jump out of a moving car to spite Boyfriend!Sukuna
“—because he was just making conversation!”
Sukuna scoffs, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Bullshit. That guy wanted to fuck you.”
“Oh my god. So what!” you yell. “It’s not like I was gonna fucking let him!”
“Coulda fooled me.”
Just like that, your angry face, which matches his, warps into one of calm decision. With speed he doesn’t see coming, you unbuckle your seatbelt, push open the passenger door and jump out of the moving car into the dead of night.
The car screeches to a halt not even a second later.
You’re pushing yourself up and testing the soreness in your ankle when a car door slams shut and Sukuna comes marching over to you. “You crazy, fucking bitch!” he snaps. Sukuna grabs your face, growling when you try to pull away. He inspects every inch of you, brows furrowed, and piercings glinting under the streetlights. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“I got a bitch ass boyfriend, that’s what’s wrong with me,” you grumble.
He ignores that. “You break anything? Wrist? Ankle? Dislocated your shoulder?” You shake your head. “Well, that’s a fucking shame.” Though as he says that, he can’t quite hide the tremors in his hands. Quieter now, he mutters with a tight frown, “Scratched your pretty face up. Fuck. Lost your one redeeming quality.”
“Okay, so I’m gonna walk home,” you say, deadpan. “I’ll see you around, asshole.”
Sukuna runs a hand through his hair with a frustrated noise. Then he smacks his lips against yours before you can actually start walking away (not that he’d let you get very far). “Alright, alright. You fucking win. Congrats. Christ. Get back in the car — we’re going to the hospital to get you checked out. Fucking dumbass.”
A hospital visit later, you’re in bed with him, cuddled up like nothing happened. It’s how arguments with him tend to go; neither of you really hold grudges against each other. Not when you’ve fucked any grievances out after. The last mention of today’s incident, however, comes in his sleepy mumble against the top of your head: “push me out instead.”
“Hmm?”
Sukuna’s hold around your body tightens, threatening to suffocate you with his hard chest. “Don’t jump out of the car. It’s stupid. Your body’s weak. Skin bruises easily. Cuts easily too. Just kick me out instead. I deserve it, I know... bonus points if it's into oncoming traffic.”
sucking on franks fingers WITHHH THE GLOVES OHHHMYYY GOSSS
finally convincing frank after MONTHS of begging to do some sort of doctor-patient roleplay in the bedroom. he's got the whole thing going on - scrubs, stethoscope, gloves.
he pretends he's just a friendly doctor, two thick latex-tasting fingers pressing down on your tongue. this is normal doctor things! he's just examining your mouth and throat! it's not his fault you're sucking on his fingers and drooling all down the blue rubber. he needs to test your gag reflex...a totally normal ER doctor thing to do!
it's not long before he's shoving those same two fingers in your cunt, still gloved and soaked with your own spit. his fingers curl upwards towards your g-spot, and somehow the latex of his gloves just feels so...good. this is how normal examinations always go! he's a professional and very thorough doctor! :)
this with jack when reader gets jealous and irritated that he cant help but to make eyes at and flirt with ppl at work :(((((((((((( and jack knows the best way to reassure her she has nothing to worry about is fucking her silly :((((((((((((((
nghhhhhhhhh need him to suffocate me asapppppppp I accidentally made him not apologetic at all actually <3 18+ MDNI
"'already told you I was paying for somethin' for her patient," jack lets out an incredulous laugh and quickly realizes it's the wrong thing to do. a pillow hits him square in the face before he can even think to stop it. he's kneeling between your legs, cock already inside you and yet you somehow still manage to throw a fit.
"okay, alrig—alright." he wrestles your hands off and grabs at your ankles just to fold you in half. all his weight is on you, the back of your thighs to his chest, cock practically in your lungs.
it's exasperating, really. you're annoyed and he has you so you can't move or smack him or throw the rest of your tantrum to your heart's content! not to mention, the smug fuckin' grin on his face. "such a little drama queen my girl—ah ah" he tuts, "quit fightin' me."
it's only when he starts moving that your body starts to lose the fight. he gives slow, deep, thrusts until you can feel him in your throat. his forehead is to yours - "you think I got time to entertain anything else? huh? when I got all this to deal with at home?" you pout at that, still sensitive and upset - even when you know you're being a little unreasonable. "you got all my attention, alright?" all you can see is him - his face, his strong veiny arms where they bracket your face. "now and always, kid."
jack abbot loves watching you get ready at his place. whether you’re freshening up for a date he’s planned or pre-gaming a night out with your girls, he’s all for it. and he is shamefully apparent in his staring from his spot on the bed, book forgotten in his lap, observing the way you mouth the lyrics to whatever song you’ve put on the speaker, his stolen tshirt clinging to all the right places of your body yet simultaneously loose enough that if you move just a bit too fast he gets to see the swell of your ass. jack is half-hard by the time you’re deciding on an outfit, completely tuned in (and turned on) to the process of you dolling yourself up. and as you finish in the mirror he’s sliding his hands across the expanse of your body, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, muttering softly, “you look gorgeous baby” against your skin.
a/n: ty to the two anons who requested this!! this is so nasty i love it :)) comments/reblogs/likes are always appreciated! <3
wc: 1.6k
dr. frank langdon w/ a piss kink! ᰔ
when dr. frank langdon has work, he normally leaves around 6:30 every morning in order to avoid traffic. this means he's normally awake at 5:30, prepping for the day and getting ready. you've gotten used to his alarm going off, and the noises of him preparing for work in the morning. you've learned to sleep through it.
what you don't sleep through, however, is whenever he starts his day by pressing himself closer against you and peppering your face with a bunch of kisses in order to rouse you. he doesn't wake you up for sex every morning, which means when he does, he's especially needy. which means you're about to be fucked so stupid before he leaves for his twelve hour shift.
this morning, you're not expecting it. yesterday morning he had woken you up just to eat you out before he left for work, and he normally wouldn't wake you up for sex two days in a row. he could be needy and desperate, but never greedy. so when he starts mouthing at the back of your neck and trying to roll your body onto your back, you just let out a small whine and try to stay asleep.
“please, baby.” he mumbles against your bare shoulder, tank top slipping down and revealing more and more skin to his hungry mouth. his hands are already moving from their spot around your waist, moving up to paw at your tits slipping from your tank top. “m’gonna be gone all day. need you before i leave, honey.”
you’ve never been good at saying no to him, plus you know just how good he’ll make it for you. he’s gonna put in all the work, and then you can fall right back to sleep, full of his cum. after some sleepy debating in your head, you finally relent and roll onto your back. he thanks you by smothering your exposed neck and collarbone in wet kisses, moving down to mouth at the fat of your tits.
he practically has a mouthful of your breast while he works on getting your panties shucked down your thighs and out of sight. he’ll probably find that exact pair while doing laundry and press them against his nose, but thats a distant activity. he wants to focus on the here and now, getting you ready for his cock. you’re already dripping, he can tell just from how wet your panties were. so easy for him.
he takes the time to break away from your tits and look down at your pussy, morning light filtering through the curtains and allowing him to see how puffy and soaked you are. he spreads you open with his fingers, watching your little hole nearly wink at him, the way its clenching around nothing. he can tell he’s starting to take too long from the way you’re squirming and beginning to whine softly under your breath.
“frankie, just get to it already!” you whine out, full of attitude from being woken up to have sex, and he hasn’t even pulled his boxers down yet. still, he’s laser focused on how your cunt looks in the morning light. groaning, he tears his eyes away just to glance back up at your face, half smushed into his pillow. your eyes are barely even open. he can’t help the soft chuckle that leaves his lips.
“yes ma’am. no need to get so bossy.” theres a little grin on his lips. he's enjoying this, the build up. if he had more time, he'd spend an hour just looking at you, barely even giving you anything to work with. he truly believes that they should open an art exhibit that is just you.
frank gathers a glob of spit in his mouth and spits it right on your clit, watching your hips jerk up involuntarily. his thumb moves down to rub at the swollen bud, obsessed with the way you try to squirm closer and farther away at the same time. poor baby can't make up her mind, frank thinks.
still rubbing your clit with his thumb, he moves to slip a thick finger inside of you. it's always a stretch, no matter how many times he's fucked you. you enjoy the slight burn at this point, the knowledge that he's stretching you open so he doesn't split you in half with his dick.
while he works his finger inside of you, curling it up and adding another, his free hand pushes his boxers down. he spits in his hand, smothering all across his shaft and tip, hissing as he does so. he knows better than to do this for too long. just the feeling of you clenching around his fingers and his hand tight around his dick would be enough to make him cum like a teenage boy.
he pulls his fingers out once you're squirming and bucking up against his palm. he's not sure you're even fully awake yet, but you're gonna be. he'll make sure of it.
he scoots closer, allowing his dick to slide right in between your folds. he grabs the base, slapping his heavy length against your clit a few times before notching the tip at your entrance and pushing inside. he moans, low and deep, grabbing one of your hands and interlocking your fingers.
he takes a minute once he's bottomed out, for the both of you. with a quick glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, he realizes he doesn't have much time. he pulls back, just barely keeping the tip inside of you, before slamming back in.
he begins a steady pace, slamming into you like it's his life's mission. his hair is flopping over his forehead, eyes dark with lust, mouth parted as he pants against your cheek. he's fucking you hard, you can feel his tip kissing your cervix, surely bruising it. but you're addicted to the feeling.
you don't notice it until your body actually starts waking up from his thrusts. there's a little bit of an uncomfortable sensations every time he slams back home, and it doesn't take you long to realize what the problem is. your bladder is full. you haven't peed since last night, and you woke up multiple times throughout the night for a sip of water.
you take the hand not interlocked with his and begin to slap at his shoulder with it. he slows down just a little, still panting against your cheek.
"what? what's wrong?" he manages out, fuzzy brows furrowing as he makes out your face in the dawn coming through the curtains. you want him to keep fucking you, god, you do. but you also don't want to piss yourself and make a mess of him and the bed.
"gotta pee." you whine out pathetically, pout on your lips and heat rushing to your neck and cheeks. "really bad." he just stares at you for a moment, eyes darting back and forth between yours and where he's still seated inside of you. he doesn't say anything and just starts fucking you even harder than before.
"frank!" you squeal out, nails digging into his shoulder. he doesn't even wince, doesn't take a moment to slow down or stop. it's like he wants you to piss yourself, to make a mess all over him and the bed. it's humiliating, but it also makes you clench down harder around him. a shiver runs through your body: are you really that gross?
"g-gonna make a mess, huh?" he pangs against your cheek. you feel the scrape of his teeth, and then a sloppy kiss against your skin. it's more of his tongue just laving over your flesh. "gonna piss yourself like a little baby? can't hold it?"
you don't know what's gotten into him, or into you. you've never discussed this as a kink or anything before, but it sure as hell is turning you both on. your brain is melted, cockdrunk already, so all you can do is whine and nod. he laughs at you. the humiliation just makes you wetter.
when his thumb snakes down to your clit, that's when you start getting worried. you know that if you cum, you're gonna pee. but his pace is unrelenting, hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and now his thumb is rubbing figure eights over your clit. you've started to sob, tears running hot and heavy down your cheeks.
"n-no! g'nna pee, frank, you- you gotta-" your words turn into a loud sob, he stopped holding hands with you to press down on your lower tummy, right on your bladder. the coil in your lower stomach finally snaps. it happens all at once, you start to cum, and then you start to pee all over him and the bed. he's pulled back to watch it happen, eyes wide and glazed over. he looks like a man possessed.
the sight does it for him. a couple more thrusts, and he's pushing as deep as he can go, spilling inside of you with a loud moan. after a couple of minutes, his breathing finally evens out and he can really look at you. you're humiliated, tears still running down your cheeks as you try to bury your face in his pillow.
"m'sorry, frankie." you mumble into the pillow, and his hand reaches out to turn your face back to him. he's staring at you with the same amount of love in his eyes as always. he shakes his head at your apology, looking down at how the sheets are soaked and there's piss all over the lower half of his body.
"nothing a new set of sheets and a shower can't fix, pretty girl." he simply says, acting like it was nothing. "just wanted to make you feel good. did it feel good?"
ashamed, you nod. he grins. "knew it. my little freak, huh?" he laughs softly and shakes his head at the whole situation. "g'nna make me piss on you next?"
