just imagine prohero! katsuki tryna get you to piggyback him. you’re yelling at him to gtfo cuz he’s massive & made of muscle. but this man is just cracking up..
+ bonus if you’re a prohero, or just strong, as well & you do carry him. he’d only make you suffer for a little until he gets off.
“babe, just carry me..”
“katsuki, you’re fucking heavy!”
“all that yappin’ n you’re still carrying me.”
he thinks it’s funny.. & hot. you think that your back will never recover.
You've been dating Bucky for a couple of weeks when his ex, Sharon, decides to shed some light on the truth of the situation - that you're not his type, and he'll get bored of you before returning to her, where he belongs.
Content Warning: Frat!Bucky x POC!F!Reader, mature themes, racism, Sharon is an awful person, mention of racist bullying in reader's past, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, Bucky is lovely and soft.
A/N: this is very different to the usual topics in my fics but just felt the urge to write this. i don't usually describe reader's features because growing up non-white meant reading fics about characters with white features and not really having any other options. which is why i do my best to keep physical descriptions of y/n to an absolute minimum so that anyone can read my work and relate. but felt the need to write this.
also i got really bad writer's block for the halloween fics i was writing so. this is set during a halloween party and will just have to do for this year 😔
divider by @strangergraphics
It takes you three shots of tequila before you can finally gain the courage to look at him across the dancefloor. You're not usually so coy, not since you were young, but something about Bucky makes you nervous. Maybe it's because the past few weeks have been going so well that you're afraid something's going to ruin it.
"Just go dance with him," Gwen says teasingly with a grin as she pulls on your hands. "You know you wanna."
"Not yet," You say, looking anywhere but in his direction. "It's casual. I'm being casual."
"Fuck that; he's obsessed with you, and it's obvious," Gwen says sternly.
"Well, he's fully capable of approaching me first," You remind her with a shrug as you continue dancing. "But he's too busy talking to Sharon."
She lets out a groan. "They're so freshman year. You have nothing to worry about," Gwen assures you, squeezing your hands. "If he wanted to get back with her, he would've done it by now. It's pretty clear that she's the one who can't get over him."
Taking in her words, you focus on the music, biting back a smile whenever your eyes land on his and he gives you a smirk. A couple of songs later, he even goes so far as to tilt his head and wink at you, and something about the Superman costume he's in is really doing it for you.
"Fuck it. I'm going over," You decide firmly, letting go of Gwen's hands and doing your best to casually walk over to him.
Sharon's talking at him but when he notices you approaching, he stops paying her attention and just watches you. He reaches his hand out to you once you're in touching distance, and you take it, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the physical contact.
"Hey, beautiful," He utters, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. "How you doing?"
"Good," You reply, looking up at him with a small smile. "Just on my way to get a drink, so thought I'd stop by and say hi."
"How sweet of you," Bucky says, his lips curling up as he looks you up and down. "Cute costume."
"I was hoping to be Shaggy, but Gwen already called dibs," You tell him. "So, I had to settle for Daphne."
"I've always been more a Velma guy, but all of a sudden I'm Daphne's biggest fan," He replies with a wink, before looking around the room. "Is there a Fred somewhere I need to fight?"
With a snort, you glance over at the middle of the room where Thor, in his Fred costume, is dancing with Gwen. "I think he's distracted," You whisper in Bucky's ear. "We might get away with it."
"Think Superman has Fred beat?" He asks you with a smirk, glancing at your lips.
"Superman beats Fred, sure," You say teasingly. "But Bucky beating Thor is a different ballpark."
"You wound me," He says, nudging your hip. "I think he's warming to me, anyway. He offered to get me a beer, earlier."
"That is very good progress," You say with a wide smile.
"I think I deserve a reward," Bucky claims. "I was very polite to the guy in a couple's costume with my girl."
Both of you agreed to keeping the fact that you're dating under wraps for the time being - Bucky's well known on campus and you'd rather not be at the centre of all the gossip - but that doesn't mean you can't flirt or share a dance at a party. It would be obvious to anyone who paid enough attention that the two of you have something going on, but luckily for you, nobody seems to care enough to make a big deal of it.
Sometimes you think it might not mean much to him - your relationship - but then he calls you things like my girl and you melt into the idea of him wanting you as much as you want him.
"Do you want a drink?" You ask, resting your hand on his abdomen.
"Nah, I'm good for now, baby, thank you," Bucky replies, before leaning down and giving your cheek a soft kiss. "Have you thought about it, yet?"
Pulling back, you frown. "About what?" You ask him.
"Sleeping over," He explains. "Would be much easier for you to just crash upstairs... with me."
With a grin, you pat his chest. "I'm not that kind of girl, Barnes; not without dinner, at least," You tease, making his face fall as concern and regret swim in his eyes.
"I didn't mean like that- I just meant if you wanna stay," He claims quickly. "Not to do anything. We can just sleep."
"Hmm, like the other night, with your face in my boobs?" You ask with narrow eyes, to which he chuckles.
"I wouldn't be adverse to a little boob-pillow action," Bucky says with a shrug, pink tinging his cheeks. "But seriously. Feel free to stay. Gwen can, too."
"Oh, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" You ask with a raised brow.
"In a platonic way," Bucky says with a laugh, pulling you in and wrapping his arms around you. "You really do look gorgeous tonight, by the way."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure that's what you say to all the girls," You mumble against his chest before pulling back. "I'm gonna go get that drink. If you're lucky, I'll come grab you for a dance later."
"Tease," He whispers with a grin, kissing your cheek again before releasing you from his grip.
The kitchen is busy, but you manage to make your way to the fridge where you grab a canned cocktail. Just as you turn to make your way back out into the living room, though, you're faced with Sharon Carter, dressed as Supergirl.
"Hi!" She chirps with a perky smile. "Ugh, love your costume."
"Uh... thanks," You reply dully, confused by her presence. She's never spoken to you before, let alone so politely.
"Can we talk?" She asks, not bothering to wait for your response before she grabs your arm and leads you towards the back door. "Maybe outside where there's less people?"
Utterly baffled by what's happening, you have no choice but to let yourself be taken into the backyard, where there's a few people smoking in a corner. Sharon takes you towards the shed at the back of the yard, where she lets out a sigh.
"It's about time we had a conversation, right?" She says, baffling you further.
"It is?" You ask before taking a long sip from your can.
"Of course - y'know, seeing how you've been hanging out with Jamie, recently," She says before gasping. "Oh. I mean Bucky. That's his first na-"
"Yeah, I know," You cut in, sick of her patronizing tone. "Cut the shit, Carter. What do you want?"
Her smile falters but she keeps up the perky tone. "Well, I just wanted to talk to you, girl-to-girl, about you and Ja- Bucky," She explains. "I know you and him have been seeing each other, and I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."
Ah. Right. This is the part where she assures you that there's nothing there between her and Bucky anymore and that even though they're friends, you have nothing to worry about.
"I don't want you to be lead on, or made to think that there's a genuine future between you and him," She goes on to say, throwing you for a loop.
What the fuck?
"Excuse me?" You utter, once again baffled. She said it with such a casual tone that you'd wondering whether you heard her wrong.
"I know it's really fun getting to know him and spending alone time with him," Sharon continues. "But you shouldn't get too invested."
Okay. So, this is the part where she warns you that he's a player and will only break your heart like he did hers two years ago. She's just trying to protect your feelings - warning you, girl-to-girl, that Bucky has fuckboy tendencies.
"Thanks, Sharon, but I can look after myself," You say with a nod. "I appreciate you giving me a heads-up, but I know what I'm getting myself into, and Bucky isn't the same guy he was when he was 18."
Now it's her turn to look confused. "I know better than anyone how much he's matured and grown since then," She tells you pointedly. "He's a good guy with a good heart."
Okay, what the actual fuck is going on?
"Sharon, I won't lie, I'm really fucking confused right now," You admit bluntly. "What are you trying to say exactly?"
She lets out a long sigh. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but if nobody else is going to, then I can't stand by and watch you get attached to him, knowing the truth," She explains.
"And what is the truth?" You ask, narrowing your eyes at her.
"You're not his type," She says simply. "You're a pretty girl, nobody's denying that, but your features just aren't what Bucky wants long-term. Do you know what I mean?"
Your blood runs cold. "No, Sharon, I don't know what you mean," You say, refusing to make this conversation easy for her. "Please, do explain."
"All you have to do is look at his history to see the pattern. I was his first girlfriend at college, and the other girls he's dated since have been... well, like me. Yelena, and Carol. I mean, he's probably more compatible with your friend Gwen than you," She says with a casual laugh. "I'm sure he's attracted to you - he isn't blind. But you're more like a novelty than girlfriend material for him. You're like, exotic fruit, you know? The novelty only lasts so long."
Your fingers twitch.
"And once he's had his fun, he'll be back with... someone who looks more like me," Sharon adds, and undeniable look of smug pride on her face. "It's just natural. It's what he's drawn to. So, yeah, just wanted to talk to you quickly about that so you aren't too blindsided in a couple of weeks. You can cosplay as Daphne all you like, but under the costume... yeah."
With that, she squeezes your shoulder and walks back towards the house, leaving you there in the cold to process her words. Snapping out of your shock, you turn and yell at her back, "Superman and Supergirl are cousins, by the way!"
She doesn't hear you- or at least pretends like she doesn't.
It's a rough walk back inside. Each step feels heavy with traumatic memories of when you were younger, having to deal with shit from girls like Sharon every single day at school. You've done so well to move on from that trauma, to build up your confidence and be proud of who you are and what you look like, but with one five minute conversation, all that confidence and pride has been sucked out like a deflated balloon.
You stick to the walls when you get in. Gwen wonders why you aren't in the middle of the dance floor with her anymore, but you tell her you feel a headache coming on and she accepts that excuse. The party feels smaller. Tighter. Like everyone's looking at you and thinking the same thing - you're different. You don't look like us.
It's not true - there's plenty of people here who look like you. This isn't your small-town school. But your brain is refusing to accept logic as it convinces you that you're a speck of dust on a blank canvas. A wine stain in the carpet.
"Hey, beautiful."
His voice pours through your burning thoughts like cool water.
"What's wrong?" Bucky asks, coming closer, shielding your body from the rest of the room with his. "You okay?"
A slow nod is all you can muster, but it isn't enough to convince him.
"Let's go talk upstairs, yeah?" He suggests before taking your hand and gently leading you through the crowd and towards the staircase.
Once you're in his bedroom, he shuts the door and sits you down on his bed.
"I'm okay," You assure him, not wanting him to be worried. "Just a little... thrown."
"Thrown?" Bucky repeats, sitting down next to you and placing his hand on your back where he rubs comforting circles.
"Yeah, I just... something really weird happened," You tell him, looking down at your hands. "It just threw me. I wasn't expecting to feel like this ever again."
"Did someone say something?" He asks, his brows furrowing. "Do something?"
You lift your chin up and your eyes meet his. His narrow slightly.
"Who?" He whispers, his jaw clenching.
A dry laugh escapes your throat. You hate that she's got you feeling like this. "Sharon," You admit, watching his face fall. "She just, uh... said something really weird to me."
"What did she say?" He asks, his free hand holding yours.
You take in a deep breath, not sure how he's going to take it. What if Sharon was right? What if, even it's just subconsciously, Bucky doesn't see himself in a long-term relationship with someone who isn't white?
"Talk to me," He mumbles softly, not wanting you to get lost in your thoughts.
"Uh... she brought up the whole... race thing," You find yourself saying, unable to speak plainly as a sheen of shame coats your skin.
"Race thing?" Bucky repeats, pure confusion on his face. "What do you mean?"
A sigh leaves your mouth as if you're frustrated at him for not understanding straight away - but that's not fair on him. Sick of beating around the bush, you give it to him straight. "Sharon said you wouldn't settle down with a girl who isn't white, essentially," You tell him bluntly. "I'm not your type, and you're only dating me for the novelty."
His lips part but he doesn't say anything straight away. After a few seconds, he incredulously sputters, "What? The fuck?"
"I don't know; she framed it like she was doing me a favor by telling me I'm not your type," You continue, fiddling with your thumbs. "That you're gonna end up with someone who looks like her. Not me."
Bucky covers his face with his hands. "What the fuck?" He whispers, his voice muffled.
"I actually think she used the words exotic fruit," You tell him, making him snort.
"Holy fuck, this isn't funny, but that's just fucked up," He says, moving his hands down and looking at you. The look on his face is that of pure bewilderment. "You know that that's complete bullshit, right?"
His reaction has quelled your fears, so you link your arm in his, holding his bicep close to your chest. "It just kinda reminded me of high school," You admit. "I grew up in a very white town and went to a very white school, so I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was the butt of every joke - I was an insult. The boys would tease each other by accusing each other of having a crush on me. The girls wanted nothing to do with me."
"That's awful," Bucky whispers, placing his right hand on your knee.
"Then when we got a little older and I... developed, I started getting attention from some of the boys," You go on to say. "But I was always a secret. They couldn't admit to anyone that they were seeing me. Their friends would never let them live it down, so they'd make fun of me in school then take me on a date in the next town over."
Bucky says nothing, letting you speak.
"But then I came to college, and suddenly I'm in this diverse environment, and boys are loudly and proudly flirting with me," You say, a small smile growing on your lips. "It was hard to get used to at first. And the girls were nice. I met Gwen, and she didn't look down on me or see me as different. She just asked if she could borrow the skirt I was wearing. I was finally normal. But tonight... the conversation with Sharon felt like a cold bucket of water was poured over me. Like the bubble popped. I was in school again, being told I was less than, and that I didn't look right. I'll get over it, eventually, I'm just a little... shocked. I didn't think someone would be that racist to my face again now that I was out of that backwards town."
His brows are furrowed together and his gaze is on the carpet. It's clear that he's upset, deep in thought while absentmindedly rubbing comforting circles on your back. After a few moments, he finally speaks. "I'm so sorry," He utters, meeting your eyes.
"You don't need to apologise on her behalf," You whisper, squeezing his leg.
He lets out a sigh through his nose. "I'm gonna talk to her," He decides firmly.
"Bucky, you don't have-"
"No, she can't get away with that. What she said is horrific," He says, shaking his head.
"She wants you back, if that isn't obvious," You point out.
He rolls his eyes at that. "I thought I made it clear to her that we're never happening again," He grumbles.
"Whatever. Let's stop talking about her," You request. "You can talk to her tomorrow if you really want to. I just want to have fun with you tonight."
"Yeah," He whispers, before a look of disgust reappears on his face. "No, you know what? She has no idea what she's talking about. I lived in Brooklyn my whole life and she thinks I've only ever dated white girls? Where's she got that idea from?"
"Buck-"
"I'm not trying to prove something to you, I'm just... it's crazy to me," He says, running a hand through his hair. "She doesn't know me at all. She's just some girl I dated for a couple months in freshman year."
"I know," You say simply.
He looks back at you, his eyes filled with concern. "Fuck. I'm making this about myself, aren't I?" He asks you. "I'm sorry. I don't care what she says or thinks about me, I'm just pissed that she tried to hurt you or make you doubt how I feel. And that she said those awful things."
Leaning into his side, you trail your fingers over the big, yellow S on his chest.
"Fuck," He repeats with a whisper, anxiety dripping from his tone.
You grab his hand, not wanting him to feel guilty for something he had no part in.
"I just..." Bucky begins, holding your hands in his. "I really, really like you. I know I'm not exactly good at hiding that; I've been begging you to be my girlfriend for weeks, but... I just really don't want to fuck this up."
You smile, nudging his shoulder. "I trust that you won't," You tell him honestly, before giving his lips a soft kiss.
"And for what it's worth," He says, stroking your knee. "I don't have a type. At least, not a physical one. And if I did, you'd be exactly it."
"Good to know," You whisper, before tilting your head. "I think I've made my decision."
"About what?" Bucky asks with a frown while stroking your hair.
"I'm gonna stay the night," You tell him. "Shall we go back downstairs?"
His jaw clenches for a split second at the thought of returning to where Sharon is, before he squeezes your knee. "It's up to you, beautiful," He says. "Personally, I'm ready to get out of this suit. It's tight."
"No, you're definitely staying in it for at least another hour," You say teasingly, trailing your finger down his chest to his yellow belt.
"Oh?" He raises a brow with a proud smirk. "Is that right, Daphne?"
"Damn right, Superman," You reply. "The suit stays on."
With a wide grin, he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap. "Whatever you say, ma'am."
happy halloween stay safe<3
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summary: when the kissing lesson lowkey gives you a bonerrrrr.. omggg…
cw: reader has curls, cheap ass couch, reader is evidently more experienced than ji, smut — kinda subby!ji, dry humping, reader gets called mommy by accident.., ji cums in his pants. oops!
<- previous part | masterlist | next part ->
the clock read 11:14 at night and jisung’s eyes burnt holes into the ceiling. the broken springs in the couch made his back ache. no matter how hard he tried to get you and your soft, plush lips out of his mind, he couldn’t. and you being laid on top of him only made it that much harder.
after he had valiantly fought over the wall of awkwardness left behind by your kissing lesson, you and jisung had decided to watch a movie; of your choice obviously.
the movie you chose was of absolutely no interest to him. something about two guys frantically trying to get laid before college? gross.
but in requesting this movie, when you nestled between his mandspread legs and laid your head against his chest in efforts to ‘get more comfortable,’ he lost all grounds to complain.
your voice interrupted the low volume dialogue on the tv. “ji?”
he hummed in response.
“you asleep?”
“nope.”
“you enjoying the movie?”
“nope.”
you turned abruptly in shock, “huh??” now face to face with him, “it’s superbad, this is like.. the best movie.”
jisung felt his heart grow warm at the sight of your pout and the corners of his mouth threatened to raise. the gentle light of the tv on your face made you look so real to him. like something different than usual.
“i don’t know,” his purred, just above a whisper as his eyes scanned over your face, “i’m just bored of it, i guess.”
“well, go to bed then. and i’ll just go home.”
jisung immediately sat up straight, almost knocking you off of the couch. “what no!”
your eyes widened slightly at his reaction.
jisung started to ramble, “i mean, like. no, i’m not tired. i just don’t really fuck with superbad. i don’t know.”
you soothed your hand over your ear before laying back down on him, “riiiigghttt. so it’s not that you don’t want me to go home? pretty rude.”
jisung’s chest shook gently under you with laughter. “no, that too, obviously.”
you rolled your eyes before lifting your head once again to rub your ear. the sound of jisung’s heartbeat was somewhat soothing at first but it seemed to have gotten louder in the last couple minutes. your eardrums were crying out.
“jisungie, if you’re not at all entertained by this movie, why is your heart palpitating directly into my ear? you got the hots for mclovin?”
“hm?”
you sat up fully. “nothing. you’re acting weird.”
jisung felt heat rise under the surface of his skin, “whatareyoutalkingabout?”
you squinted at him. “is this because we kissed?”
you were met with silence and a blank stare and immediately curled in on yourself, “aw shit, dude…”
jisung was involuntarily unresponsive as you backed away further — as far as you could without falling off the couch. his lips were moving like he wanted to reassure you so badly but nothing was coming out of him.
“jisung, im sorry, wanted to help, i-i didn’t—
“no, no, don’t freak out,” he reached out to grab one of your arms.
“i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—
jisung grabbed onto your other arm to try and bring you back to him on the couch, “waitt,” he was trying not to laugh. mean ass.
“and then i went and laid on your chest, like.. i feel like a creep.”
jisung finally succeeded in bringing you back to him and wrapped his arms fully around you. he spoke, muffled, into the thickness of your curls,
“you’re not a creep. don’t be dumb.”
limply, you let your chin fall onto his chest.
“i just.. have a lot of thoughts right now. i’m not trying to be awkward.” his hands soothingly rubbed your back and you sighed. “swear.”
unfortunately,, you couldn’t find it in yourself not to interrupt this heartfelt moment. “wow, ji, you’re so.. boyfriend coded, sometimes.” it was now you going to rub his back. but he swiftly jolted away,
“what??!”
“i feel so cared for.” you gazed up at him playfully and his face scrunched up.
“you don’t have to be a boyfriend to care for someone, yknow. what does that even mean.”
jisung’s eyes darted all over the room. the door, the window; as if he was looking for escape routes. probably because if you looked directly into his eyes for long enough, you’d realise how into you he truly is.
you shrugged, “i don’t know. i caught a vibe. or something.”
“you caught a vibe?” the cringe was visible on his face, even in the dimly lit room.
“i was feeling something! i don’t know.”
all he could do was laugh in your face. and when the laughter died down. you remained staring at each other in the silence you left. for what seemed like forever, you stared. you wished you could hear what he was thinking, because the longer you settled in silence, the rosier his cheeks appeared in the dark. cross-legged and facing each other, you felt your bodies leaning.
strangely enough, you didn’t notice the seemingly magnetic pull between you until you felt jisung’s lips against yours.
your body didn’t allow you the time to question what was going on before you could card your fingers through his hair, while his big hands found their way to your waist, dragging upwards so his thumbs could rub at your bare skin.
no different from you, jisung had no idea how he had found himself to get so lucky. but what he did know, was what you taught him.
one of the hands from your waist moved to your jaw and tilted your head slightly. his tongue ran over the expanse of your bottom lip; a silent request that you allow him access. you granted his request and a soft moan rose out of him.
you had pulled away to try and tease him but his hand at the back of your neck pulled you back, just for him to peck your lips,
“you have to use your tongue,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “so that i can copy you.. and know that i’m doing it right…”
your eyelids fluttered at his words before he went it to kiss you once again. you brushed your tongue against his, eliciting another moan from him as his hands squeezed at your sides. you wrapped your arms around his neck and crawled into his lap.
“jisungie, i didn’t think you’d be this vocal. i guess i should have, but i just didn’t.” you breathed out.
jisung passed a weak attempt at laughing your comment off. but his body betrayed him, his hips stuttered upwards into you.
“mmph— shit, i’m sorry. sorry, y/n.” he braced his hand against your thigh, leaning back on the other one and you whined at the friction.
wordlessly, you rocked your hips down over his and he groaned into your neck. his breath was hard against your skin, making you shiver.
“please. keep doing that.” both his hands were now on your hips, “that feels so good.” he whimpered.
you hummed at him and harshly rolled your hips into his once again. you felt your eyes flutter closed and you wondered whether it was from the pleasure or due to the fact that you wanted nothing less than to become sentient at this moment and realise that.. this is kinda fuckin strange. who would have thought a kissing lesson would end up like this? huh.
his lips had since moved down to kiss at your neck, making you keen and throw your head back — a sight that almost knocked jisung clean out.
the fact that this time yesterday, he had never even kissed anyone, but now he had a girl on top of him was triggering some sort of system overload. not that he was some sort of sex pest that was overly well versed in masterbation, but he claimed to know how to hold his own, knew how to ‘prolong the experience.’
that being said, at this moment in time, he didn’t think he had ever felt this sensitive before. it was like he was back to square one. d1 virgin.
“ah— please, please..” jisung breathed into your neck as his hands subconsciously rose up to grope at your chest and he thrusted up into you, “y/n, you feel so good.”
you couldn’t help but laugh, “you’re not even in me yet..”
the indirect promise that, eventually, he would get to fuck you, made his eyes roll back with a groan. just the thought of getting to slide himself into your warmth made heat prickle at the back of his neck. he groaned internally in pure embarrassment over the effect you had on him. he was getting close.
your hand stroked at his face. as much as you were enjoying the show of him writhing and whining under you, you needed to feel his lips on yours again.
“jisung, please kiss me again.”
and he wanted to give you that so badly. he also so badly wanted to not cum in his pants. not that he had any choice in the matter anyway.
“i-i want to.”
your brows furrowed, “ji.. you can. it’s okay.”
jisung groaned loudly, “ughh, fuck, okay. okay, okay, come here.” no point fighting it now.
one of his big hands moved from your breasts and reached up to your neck as he pressed both your lips together in a feverish kiss. desperately whines rose out of the back of his throat with each swipe of his tongue over yours. you had started to grind your hips harder and he swore he was going to die right then.
“ouu, fuckk,” he moved his face back to your neck, “i’m so close, ma- mmph.”
“you’re getting close?”
“m-mommy— fuck, i’m gonna cum.”
your legs involuntarily squeezed around his hips. the more outwardly submissive he got, the more frantic your movements became. like some sort of fucked up chain reaction.
“don’t stop, don’t stop, mommy, please.”
jisung’s breath picked up and you started to breathe heavier when his hips stuttered upwards into yours. his moans became louder and more irregular as he wrapped his arms around your body.
“i’m c-cumming.” he sighed into your chest followed by a lewd string of high pitched moans. his breath was shallow against your bare chest before he dropped his body backwards onto the couch, catching his breath with heavy lidded eyes. you followed, flopping your torso down onto his heaving chest.
you poked his arm, making him twitch, “are you awake.”
“mhm.” ji scrunched his eyes closed. he wished he wasn’t.
“did you call me ‘mommy’ just now?”
“mm.. no.”
your brows knit together, “huh, okay.”
his chest rose and fell in deep breaths under your head.
“park jisung, we have so much to talk about.”
he brought up a hand to massage his temple, “uh huh.” and it settled in that the trajectory of your friendship might just have been changed forever. oh well!
“and you didn’t make me finish, so the pussy eating lesson is next. mkay?”
He can’t help it. Ever since you first introduced him to sex, he just can’t get enough. It’s not his fault that your cunt is so addicting, so much so that he’s often begging you to let him fuck you on his cock. It’s not his fault that you moan so beautifully that he can’t help but thrust into you harder so you’ll make more of those pretty sounds for him. It’s not his fault that you taste so good and he has to have you on his tongue, drinking your juices until you’re shaking and crying. He doesn’t mean to be so needy, but you bring out this side of him he can’t control.
How is he supposed to control himself when you walk around in those skimpy clothes, showing off your plump ass and perfect tits? It’s impossible. He’ll try to resist, have some self-control. But it isn’t long before he’s hugging you from behind, dotting wet kisses along your neck and pushing his hard-on into your ass. All while he’s begging you let him feel your wet cunt. And of course you’ll let him, how could you say no to your cute desperate boyfriend.
The minute you agree he has you laid out under him as he fucks his big cock into your tight cunt. Moaning and whimpering about how good it feels to be inside you again, his face red as he pushes every last inch of himself into you. He uses his weight to thrust into you, which only made your head go dizzy. He has you in a lazy mating press and your plush thighs slap against his hips every time he comes down, the sound of Choso’s deep thrusts is so musical, his tip abusing your womb to the point your eyes roll back. His mouth is so filthy too, and the worst part is, is that he doesn’t even realize it. “Fuck, baby... you’re sucking me in... your pussy’s so tight.” He groans into your ear, sucking onto your skin and leaving purple marks behind, intent on marking you as his. Although there was no point since you still had the hickeys from your last encounter, but it was never enough for Choso.
The poor curse is so in love with your body that he’ll go on for hours and hours just playing with your body. If it was up to him, you both would never leave the bed. Who needs to eat when he can just eat your cunt and you can suck his cock? Who needs to sleep when there’s a new position he wants to try? This man will not stop because that’s how addicted he is to your cunt. You curse the curse’s stamina and sometimes wish you had a normal boyfriend, but he usually fucks those thoughts right out of your head before you can try and act on them. “Choso… ngh!— h-hold on, my body…” you mumbled, unable to fully say your sentence. He hits a particularly sensitive spot and you let out a strangled cry, bucking your hips wildly to try and get that same pleasure again. Choso eyed your reaction, angling his hips to continue hitting that spot over and over again til you’re seeing stars and screaming out his name. You had no thoughts about shame, or how you should lower your voice, not when your handsome boy was fucking you within an inch of your life.
“Right there? ‘s that the spot, dove?” He pants, voice hoarse from his overwhelming desire for you. You’ve lost track of time, to obsessed with the way Choso has you creaming around his cock for the nth time. Everything was too much, but you loved it, in an addictive way. The overstimulation was addicting. His words were addicting. The sound of the bed hitting the wall was addicting. His cock was addicting. He was addicting. You always tease Choso about his neediness when in reality, you’re just as needy and obsessed as he is. You can tell Choso is close by the way his cock twitched inside you and how he speeds up his movements, rutting into you with wild abandon and chasing his orgasm.
You throw your head back into a pillow, your vision almost going black as you were consumed with ecstasy. The air was knocked out of your lungs with every snap of his hips, your senses filled with just the pressure of Choso. It felt like you were gonna throw up, but not in a bad way. “Baby… babybabybabybaby! A-ah! Mgn…” you cried out in pleasure, clawing at the sheets below you. Choso’s hands tightened around your hips, his careful grip growing into a bruising hold as he was solely focused on reaching his climax. “Hah— you feel sososososo good, dove. I love you, I love you so much,” he whimpered. It was right there, he could feel it, just a couple more thrusts and he’ll finally have his release. He wants to cum so bad, he needs to cum.
“Hey dove? C-can I fill your pretty pussy with my cum? Wanna cum inside you,” he begged, his voice broken as he pleads with you. “Please, my love… I want to stuff your pussy with my cum, wanna fill you up…” he continues, kissing your ankle and calf to convince you further. You didn’t need much convincing though, you were already to dumb and out-of-it to deny the poor curse. Frantically, you nodded your head, just wanting to feel his hot semen inside you. And you finally got your wish after a few more sloppy thrusts, before Choso goes still and empties his balls into your awaiting cavern. He lets out a guttural moan as ropes of cum spurt out. Slowly, he pulls out, his cock coated in a translucent white, his thighs and pelvis sticky from a mix of sweat and cum.
You both lay there in silence, the sounds of your labored breathing being the only noise echoing through the room. While coming down from your high, you remember that the reason you even got dressed today was because you had work. Annoyed, you lightly smack the upside of Choso’s head, complaining about how he made you late while you go to get out of bed and put your clothes back on. Choso rubs the area where you hit him as he watched you struggle to move and get out of bed, he looks at you like a kicked puppy and he knows he should be sorry for making you late but he can’t find it in him to feel guilty. Instead, Choso reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you back further onto the bed and flushed against his sweaty chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and he lines soft kisses to your nape.
“I’m sorry, dove… Why don’t you call out and let me eat your pussy as an apology?”
Could I submit a request about Jack dating an EMT/Paramedic and he’s like “You rappelled down a bridge, again?” Like she’s badass and independent but he’s her man and cares about her.
authors note: i tweaked it a little but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless :))
COPYRIGHT ® 2025 DULCEBLOODHND. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS ORIGINAL WORK IS NOT ALLOWED TO BE REPOSTED ON ANY PLATFORM IN ANY FORMAT OR FED TO AI.
Jack was off duty and was not expecting a call from the hospital, it was his day off and he hoped it was going to stay that way. Dana was on the phone, most things blurred together but he heard her name and ‘injured on the job’. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment immediately and headed back into work.
Noise encapsulated the streets and continued way beyond into the emergency department. Bodies of doctors and nurses walked about, small chatter of patients and the distinct clinical aroma of a hospital. You sat perched on the cot, cradling your broken arm between two splints as you waited for a doctor to attend to you.
Dr. Collin’s breached the doorway with your chart listing off the tests that need to be done, ordering an X-ray for your arm and to conduct a physical examination of coordination to check if you had a concussion or not.
Collin’s excused herself after performing the exam and you were left alone in the bay. You overheard ‘where is she?’ and next thing Jack barged into the room.
“What happened?” Jack immediately went to your side.
“Work,” was all you could mutter. Your head rested against the fresh linen pillowcase.
“Don’t tell me you rappelled down a bridge again?”
Silence pursued his question. All you could do was give a guilty exchange of a smile in return.
“A young girl was dangling from below, a failed suicide attempt. The good thing is she is safe with minimal injury. Rather that than her take the brunt of what I got.”
Jack sucked in a breath, his shoulders tense and the crease between his brows prominent. Your uninjured hand grabbed his and rubbed soothing circles around his knuckles.
“I’m okay, baby.”
He sighed as you pulled him down to sit on the edge of the cot, gently tugging his arm to get his body closer towards you. A safe haven. You kissed between his brows then dragging the tip of your nose against his bridge before kissing him again on his lips.
“I’m taking you home with me after we get you sorted. You won’t be leaving my sight for the next couple of weeks,” Jack said.
“As long as I get to spend more time with you.”
“I hope this isn’t a newly developed tactic to spend more time with me.”
“What if it is?” You questioned cheekily.
“Baby, no.”
You laughed and kissed him in small successions until he smiled alongside you. God, aren’t you glad to have him by your side.
cw: smut(mdni),, p in v, kissing, unprotected sex, mention of drgs (w333d) , soft!connie, crampie, doggy.
plug!connie x black!fem!reader.
The glow of your phone screen was the only light in your dim bedroom, casting a soft blue across your face as you lay sprawled across your sheets. You’d been scrolling for the better part of an hour, bored out of your mind, when the thought hit you—a blunt would make this night actually bearable. Your usual guy was dry, but you knew someone else who always came through.
You tapped open your messages with Connie, the name saved with a little leaf emoji next to it. You’d met him through a mutual friend a few months back, and he’d been your backup plug ever since. Reliable, chill, and never tried to short you. You typed out a quick text:
‘Hey, you around? Need a dub. Can I swing by?’
You hit send and tossed the phone onto the bed, waiting. A few minutes later, it buzzed.
‘Yeah I’m home. You got the cash?’
You bit your lip. That was the thing—you’d spent your last twenty on lunch earlier, and your paycheck wasn’t hitting until tomorrow. You weighed your options, then typed back, trying to keep it light.
‘Actually I’m short rn. Can I get it on credit? I’ll pay you tomorrow for sure.’
The reply came faster than you expected.
‘Lol nah, I don’t do credit. But I got another option for you. Check your messages.’
Your brow furrowed. Another option? Before you could ask, a video popped up. You hesitated for a second, then tapped it.
The video was dark at first, then a familiar figure came into view—Connie, shirt off, phone angled down toward his lap. He was stroking himself slowly, his cock already hard and glistening at the tip. He didn’t say anything, just breathed heavy, his hand moving up and down in a steady rhythm. The video was maybe thirty seconds long, ending with a soft grunt and the camera cutting off.
Your heart was thumping. You stared at the screen for a long moment, then your phone buzzed again.
‘Pull up to my house. I got what you need. Both of us.’
You read the message twice, your stomach doing a little flip. Part of you wanted to play it cool, act like you weren’t already wet from that video. But the other part—the part that had been bored and restless and craving something—already knew what you were going to do.
You sat up, typed back a single word:
‘Bet.’
Twenty minutes later, you were pulling into the driveway of his small brick house on the quieter side of town. The porch light was on, and you could see the silhouette of him through the front window, waiting. You killed the engine, grabbed your purse, and walked up to the door.
He opened it before you could knock.
Connie stood there in gray sweats and a loose black hoodie, no shoes, his hair a little messy. He gave you that easy grin, the one that always made you feel like you were in on a joke with him.
“Knew you’d come,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.
“Don’t get too cocky,” you shot back, stepping past him into the living room. It was tidy enough—couch, coffee table with a PlayStation controller on it, a few empty soda cans. The smell of weed lingered faintly, mixing with the scent of his laundry detergent.
He closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed. “So you saw the video, huh.”
You felt heat creep up your neck, but you kept your voice steady. “Yeah, I saw it. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”
His grin widened. He pushed off the door and walked past you toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink first? Water, soda? Or you wanna cut to the chase?”
You followed him, leaning against the counter. “I mean… I didn’t drive all this way just for a soda.”
He laughed, low and warm, and turned to face you. “Alright then.” He reached into the pocket of his sweats and pulled out a small plastic baggie with weed, tossing it onto the counter between you. “That’s yours. No charge.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he said, stepping closer. “But you gotta earn it.”
You knew what he meant. The air between you thickened, and you didn’t look away. “And how do I do that?”
He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist, then traced a slow line up your arm. “Just let me have you tonight. Simple as that.”
Your breath hitched. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you gently toward him. “You want that?” he asked, voice lower now.
You nodded, and he kissed you.
It wasn’t soft. It was hungry, his mouth pressing against yours, tongue sliding in before you could think. His other hand found your waist, pulling you into him, and you could feel how hard he already was through his sweats. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie.
He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Let’s take this to the bedroom.”
You followed him down the hall, past a bathroom, into his room. It was messy—clothes on a chair, unmade bed—but you didn’t care. He turned to you, hands already finding the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. His eyes ran over your body, taking in your brown skin in the dim lamplight.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra. “You’re so beautiful.”
You unbuttoned your jeans, pushed them down, and he dropped to his knees, helping you step out of them. He pressed his face against your thigh, kissing the skin, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you, a question in his eyes.
“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “Go ahead.”
He tugged them down slowly, his mouth following the trail of fabric, kissing your hip, your belly, the inside of your thigh. When you were naked except for your bra, he stood up, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you flush against him.
“Lay on the bed,” he said, his voice rough. “On your stomach.”
You did, crawling onto the mattress, your heart pounding. You heard the rustle of fabric—him pulling off his hoodie, his sweats. Then the bed dipped, and his hands were on your hips, lifting them slightly, positioning you.
His cock brushed against your wetness, teasing, and you let out a shaky breath. “Connie…”
“I know,” he murmured, leaning over you, his chest warm against your back. “I got you.”
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and you gasped, gripping the sheets. He was thick, filling you up just right, and he groaned as he bottomed out, his forehead pressing against your shoulder.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice strained.
Then he started to move.
At first it was slow, deep thrusts that had you moaning into the mattress. His hand came around to grip your hip, steadying you, and the other snaked under your body to find your clit, rubbing in tight circles.
“Oh, shit,” you breathed. “Right there.”
“Like that? Yeah?” His voice was right in your ear, his pace picking up.
The sounds filled the room—the wet slap of skin, your gasps, his grunts. He was fucking you harder now, and you couldn’t hold back the noises that escaped you.
“Ah—fuck, Connie, please—”
“Please what?” He drove deeper, hitting a spot that made your vision blur. “Tell me.”
“Don’t stop, don’t—aah—right there, yes—”
He complied, his rhythm turning frantic, his breathing ragged. You could feel the pressure building low in your belly, your toes curling.
“I’m close,” you whimpered.
“Let go,” he grunted, his hand on your clit working softly. “I feel you, come on, let go for me.”
And you did, a moan tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed through you, your body trembling. He kept fucking you through it, his own breath hitching, and then he was coming too, a low groan as he buried himself deep, his hips stuttering.
He collapsed over you, his weight a comforting pressure, both of you breathing hard. After a moment, he pulled out and rolled onto his back, reaching over to run a hand down your spine.
“That was…” he started, then laughed softly. “Yeah. That was good.”
You turned your head to look at him, a lazy smile on your lips. “The weed better still be on the counter.”
He barked a laugh, pulling you into his side. “It’s yours. And if you want, you can crash here. We can roll one up in a bit.”
You settled against him, your cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. Outside, the night was quiet, and inside, you felt warm and spent and satisfied.
