You were just trying to be a good host and lunch had gone well!
Steve, Sam, and Nat were in the living room watching the game, drinks in hand, their laughter carrying into the kitchen while you were cleaning up from the meal. You'd tied on a little apron over your dress, sleeves rolled, face flushed steam of the water and from the way you could feel Bucky staring at you while he dried the pots.
He’d offered to help, of course. And technically, he was helping, his hands moving over the dishes with a towel, but the way he stood behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his chest, was anything but innocent. You could almost feel the tension rolling off him in waves, had noticed the subtle flex of his jaw earlier, the silent hunger in his gaze as it tracked the way your hips swayed, the way your apron clung. His eyes were fixed on you like he was two seconds from snapping, the restraint in him fraying more with every passing second.
"You're killin' me, doll," he murmured, voice low, he set the towel down on the bench, eyes dropping to the curve of your ass under the apron. You felt the shift in the air before you felt his touch, a slow, deliberate tease of his fingers toying with the ends of the apron strings, brushing lightly against the small of your back like a promise. "Making lunch. Playing homemaker. Domestic looks real good on you."
You barely had time to blink before he was right up behind you.
His body was heat and hardness at your back, pressing you toward the counter. His metal arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while the other slid under your apron, tugging the dress up your thighs. His fingers found the hem of your panties, tugged them just enough to slip beneath.
"Bucky-" you hissed.
"Shh," he purred, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Don’t want Steve or Sam hearing, do you?"
You shook your head, lips parting, breath catching as his fingers found your slit. Already wet. Already aching.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you’re soaked," he groaned. "Just from playing house? Or… you just like making me hungry for something other then hose potatoes?"
You let out a soft whimper as his fingers slid along your folds, teasing with slow, deliberate circles, the pads of his fingers gliding over sensitive skin, making your knees weaken. He let the moment stretch, drawing out your arousal, coaxing it to the surface. Then, one thick finger slipped inside, stretching you with delicious pressure, followed by a second that joined with practiced ease, scissoring slightly, filling you so perfectly your breath hitched. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured against your ear, his stubble scraping your cheek as he slowly worked his fingers in and out, each pump dragging against the spot that made your vision blur. "Let me feel how thankful you really are."
"Buck-"
"Grip the sink," he instructed, the command rough and tender all at once. "Let me take care of you."
You obeyed, hands gripping the edge of the counter, apron swinging forward as you bent slightly, hips arching back into him. His cock pressed hard and hot against you through his jeans, the thick ridge of it nestled tight between your cheeks. Just the thought of him replacing his fingers with that length, stretching you open, splitting you wide, made your cunt clench down around him instinctively, aching for more.
"That's it," he growled, fingers thrusting slow and deep. "Look at you. So fuckin' pretty like this. All warm and tight and perfect. You gonna come for me, right here, in the kitchen? While our friends sit in the next room?"
You nodded, breath stuttering.
"Better be quit then while you make mess on my fingers? I wana lick them clean after. Taste you while they eat their fuckin' pie."
You whimpered, biting your lip to stay quiet.
His thumb found your clit and rubbed fast circles, the motion precise and relentless, setting off sparks that danced along your spine.
The pressure in your gut built.
The aching intensity, molten and tight, like a fuse lit from deep within.
Your thighs trembled as the pleasure curled tighter and tighter, his fingers driving into you with a rhythm that felt sinful in its perfection.
Every thrust hitting that spot that made your knees threaten to give out.
Bucky adjusted his hand to press his thumb harder, more insistently, sending waves of heat crashing through your core. Your body was caught in the slow, torturous build of it, teetering right on the edge, begging for release.
"Come on, doll," he whispered, voice dark and sweet, thick with promise. "Give it to me. Make a mess on my fuckin' hand. Wanna feel that pretty cunt flutter while I ruin you on my fingers."
That did it, that sent you over.
Crashing.
Violently.
Silently.
Clenching around his fingers as your body shook against the counter, hips trembling, your head going back in a white-knuckle grip on the sink, mouth open in a soundless cry as you choked on your own breath. Your whole body quaked with the force of it, thighs shaking, the world going bright and blank as your orgasm took you under.
He eased you down gently, kissing your shoulder, pulling his fingers free and bringing them to his lips. His eyes fluttered shut for a beat as he moaned low in his throat, savouring the taste like it was a delicacy.
"Mm. Better than any damn gravy," he murmured. Then grinned. "Still think we’re gonna make it through dessert without me bending you over this counter?"
You barely managed a breathless, "Nope."
Bucky looked like the cat who’d just gotten into the cream, smug and satisfied, eyes glinting with wicked promise. His tongue darted out to lick the last of you from his fingers, gaze never leaving yours. That sharp, knowing smile widened when he caught the hitch in your breath, your knees still weak.
Then he raised his voice just enough to be heard. “Better get you into another room then. Get you off your feet.”
You blinked at him, still dazed, he just chuckled, broad palm skating down your back, fingers tugging at the curve of your ass possessively.
“Wise choice,” you managed, voice rough and wobbly.
There was a possessiveness in that stare, a vow that he wasn’t nearly done with you yet, and the next round wouldn’t be nearly as quiet. The TV volume in the next room already going up.
Summary: Driven to desperation and with a brutal winter fast approaching, you decide to offer yourself up to the local orc chieftain in the hopes of earning yourself food and shelter.
Word count: 2.6k
[Part 1/???]
Heat from the crackling fire in the hearth licked at the backs of your calves as you stood in absolute stillness before the orc chieftain. He lounged upon a broad wooden chair layered with pelts and furs, studying you curiously with his mismatched green and yellow gaze. The remains of a mostly devoured chicken sat on a platter atop a nearby end table, its bones meticulously picked clean of meat and gristle. Your stomach gave a low growl, but you ignored it. Hopefully, if things went well, you would have a hot meal in your belly soon.
You'd risked the long journey away from your village to the orcish settlement out of sheer desperation. Last year a plague had swept through the village and taken your family with it, the farmland you once tended handed off to someone the your local lord deemed more capable. The whole unfortunate affair left you homeless and penniless. None of the poor farmers would let you wed into their family without a suitable offering. Forget about a more well off merchant or tradesman. And with winter well on its way, you knew your options were to find a new living arrangement fast or face the brutal, freezing cold and the slow decay of starvation.
Out of options and nearly out of time, there was one single avenue of survival left which you had been forced to consider, then accept. Orcish folk usually kept to themselves, their bands of hunters roaming the forests at the base of the nearby mountain range.
You had seen this particular chieftain and his band of hunters and warriors before. During the spring and summer when the roads were pleasant, they would come to your village trade furs and foraged herbs for healing poultices and other necessities. They maintained a cautious yet friendly relationship with the militia as they discouraged bandits and poachers from settling too close to the local farmland where their own influence couldn't quite reach.
But wherever the orcs went, the rumors followed. More than once you had heard whispers amongst your fellow villagers that, on rare occasions, a human could find themselves accepted into the fold of an orcish band. Upon one rather demanding condition, of course…
The chieftain ran his thick fingers down his short dark beard, a low and thoughtful hum rumbling in his chest. "A human is offering to serve this one as a bed-warmer?" His use of the common tongue was clumsy and stilted and, though it wasn't the first time you'd heard him speak, the depth of his voice still caught you off guard.
Throat dry, butterflies swarming in your gut, you gave a single decisive nod. A flush of shame prickled along the nape of your neck. If he accepted you, there would be no going back to human society. Not that you really had anyone left there anyway. Still, the thought of the pinched looks of disgust that would follow you everywhere stung.
"This one does not share," the chieftain continued. His chair creaked beneath him as he shifted his weight and a small thrill of anticipation raced down your spine. "Once taken, this human will belong to no other."
"I understand and I agree to your terms." You couldn't help the tremor that ran through your voice, yet you still managed to meet his glittering mismatched eyes.
His muscular forearms draped over his thighs as he leaned forward and peered down at you. Wobbling shadows cast from the fire flickered over the harsh lines of the many scars littering his face. He took one last lingering moment of study, just to assure himself of your sincerity, you supposed. Then, wordlessly, he raised a hand and beckoned you with a curled finger.
Hands fisted tightly in your tattered skirts, you obeyed his summons. The warmth of the fire at your back faded, replaced by the sweltering heat of his stare as he took in the features of your face, then the neckline of your dress and tunic. It felt like no small miracle that he'd accepted you as you are, all travel worn and smudged with dirt.
This close, you both paused and took a moment to study one another. His lower lip twitched around the heavy tusks jutting from the corners of his mouth. In his beard and dark, shoulder length braids there were streaks of gray that you hadn't noticed until now. It occurred to you suddenly how very little you knew about him, about all the strange differences between orcs and humans. His broad, green-skinned chest was bare, as scarred as his face, and dusted with a fine layer of dark hair. A thick leather belt studded with various bits bone bone and feathers (hunting trophies, you assumed) held up the panels of stitched pelts that covered his lap.
Without warning, he reached for you and pressed his warm, broad palm against your throat. His thumb curled into the tender skin beneath your jaw and he hummed when he found the frantic flutter of your pulse. He pulled you to him. One of his tusks grazed the curve of your cheek as he pressed his nose into your hair just below your ear and breathed deep.
"This human's scent is pleasant enough," he murmured.
You eyes widened. Was he... was he teasing you?
"Salt. Sweat," he said. "And something that is sweet."
At his further invitation, you drifted to the space between his knees, taking in the unfamiliar scent of him. He smelled of moss, damp soil, and wood smoke, though not in a way that was stale nor unpleasant. Your private observations came to an abrupt halt as his touch began to wander to other places.
The calloused pads of his fingers ran down the flushed expanse of your chest before tugging at the strings cinching your tunic shut. Rather than mess with the intricate knots, he simply flicked his wrist. The flimsy fabric gave way with a terrible and sudden rip.
You stifled a yelp, hand reaching for your lips until he caught your wrist and guided it back down to your side.
"There is nothing to hide," he chided, his heavy lidded eyes trailing down the line of your cleavage before he tore away the other layers of fabric covering your chest from him. "These pitiful human-made pelts will not keep one warm enough when the snow falls. This one will provide furs from the hunt."
Breasts exposed to the chilly air of the chieftain's longhouse, your nipples quickly hardened into stiff little peaks. He plucked at one between his thumb and forefinger, watching you carefully as the small twinge made you flinch. Encouraged by the reaction, he repeated the motion several more times, pinching a little bit harder each time until you couldn't withhold a gasp.
His eyes darkened at the sound and he spread his thighs a little further as his wide, warm hand reached beneath the hem of your skirts and left a scalding trail up the back of your leg. He cupped the swell of your ass and seemed to weigh it in his hand with a firm squeeze. Then his finger glided lower and lower, your breath hitching as his touch tickled the thatch of curls between your thighs.
All the time he'd spent exploring you, your hands remained firmly clasped at your front as you were completely uncertain what the chieftain might expect of you. But as the first thick finger parted your folds and drew small circles in the slick gathering there, you jerked forward and gripped his shoulders. Taut muscles rippled beneath your touch and for a second you froze, terrified that an orc of his rank might be offended that you touched him without an explicit invitation.
Instead he withdrew his hand for a moment, just long enough to peel away the remains of your tunic and shimmy your skirts down your legs. Once all of the fabric that had covered you was nothing more than a sad, dingy puddle on the floor, he gently coaxed your legs apart. His wide brows narrowed in concentration as his thumb traced a line from your navel, leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh as he reached down and parted your folds once more.
A slowly building heat had begun to swirl and simmer low in your belly, the flames only stoked higher and hotter by the sudden delicious friction against your clit. Each slow swipe of his thumb sent tingling waves racing straight to the ache building in your core until you found yourself swaying on your feet in time with the motion.
The chieftain gave a rumble of satisfaction, the deep sound reverberating where your palms hesitantly glided across the expanse of his chest. He leaned forward, tusks and teeth grazing the soft skin of your breast before he began laving at one nipple, then the other. The wet heat of his tongue left you panting for more, the juices leaking from your cunt now soaking into your curls and wetting his fingers.
One of those fingers eased into your entrance, probing at your aching walls before being joined by another. He spread them apart inside you, the sudden pressure drawing a breathless whine from your parted lips. He angled his wrist this way and that, flexing his fingers and stretching you further from all different angles, pleasure and pain melding into a burning ache until you dropped your forehead to his shoulder with a low moan, your feet arching and toes curling into the pile of cloth on the floor.
"This human is ready," he declared and though you weren't yet entirely certain how to read him, you thought you sensed a bit of pride in his voice.
The trinkets adorning his belt clinked and ratted as he undid the clasp of his belt with his free hand. He pushed away the pelts still gathered about his waist and his cock sprang free, thick, long, and bobbing slightly from its own weight. A rush of desire nearly swept you off your feet as you gaped at the swollen veins running along his curved shaft all the way up to his twitching head colored with a dark green flush. Drops of pre-cum beaded along his slit, glittering in the firelight as they slowly trailed down, down, down...
He gripped the girthy base of his cock with the hand that had pleasured you, thoroughly coating himself in your slick with several rough strokes. "Come here."
You lifted one leg, preparing to straddle him, but he caught you in his bulky arms and lifted you himself. The way your thighs spread around his large legs pulled your folds apart, exposing your cunt to a shock of cold air. Your earlier shame had since been forgotten and replaced with brimming anticipation as you waited for his next move.
He lifted you again and paused a moment to allow you to brace yourself against his shoulders before slowly sliding you down. Your overly sensitive nipples chafed against the rough hair on his chest and you fought the urge to writhe against him and chase the sensation. The warm, plush head of his cock gently parted your folds, then rubbed along your weeping entrance.
The smooth roll of his hips stuttered as he bit back a growl and grazed his tusks along your heaving chest. "This human will belong to no other," he ground out. It was a reminder, but this time sounded more like a warning.
You nodded readily. "I know."
Seemingly satisfied with your answer, he lowered you further. The pressure of his head against you increased steadily and you wondered warily what might become of you if he simply didn't fit. Just as the worry crossed your mind, the first inch of him finally slid past your opening. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, at the way it stretched you even further than his fingers had.
That initial shock was quickly lost in the heatwave rolling through your core. He worked his way into you inch by burning inch with shallow thrusts, each one stretching you further, each one convincing you that any second you would simply split in half from the sheer girth of him filling you.
Your tongue pressed against the back of your teeth as a sheen of sweat broke out over your skin. Prayers for mercy tumbled your lips, though you knew your human gods would not bother to listen, not when you had given yourself away in such a desperate manner. The chieftain's grunting joined in the chorus, his cock twitching inside you at the faltering edge of desperation in your voice.
Then your ass settled against his thighs and you knew that, at last, the full monstrous length of him was finally sheathed within your frail human body. Shallow breaths ripped through your lungs and your heart kicked at your ribs like a rabbit caught in a snare.
The orc chieftain's broad hands circled your waist and lifted you several inches before dropping you suddenly. A rush of air left you in a sharp cry as the weight of your body did most of the work of impaling you once more on his cock. He continued toying with you like that, raising you a little higher each time only to groan as your walls desperately fluttered to accommodate him on your way back down.
The shock of each drop, the complete fullness in which your body molded around his own, and the beads of sweat and tears trickling down your face suddenly swallowed you with an unbearable heat. Flashes of white overtook your vision. You shattered atop him, legs spasming uselessly on either side of him, cunt desperately clenching around his thick cock, weeping and grasping and begging for anything and everything he had to give.
He released your hips then, giving you free reign to haul yourself up the length of him and slam back down on your own accord, riding out the wave of your orgasm before you fell useless and limp against his chest.
By the time you emerged from the haze, still trembling from the aftershocks, he was back to moving you himself. He set a sharp rhythm that would have been brutal had you not already been used so thoroughly. The steady wet slap of your joining filled the longhouse, drowning out even the crackle of the fire.
You blinked at him blearily, marveling at the smudges of his shadowed features through the tears still leaking from your eyes. When he noticed your staring he made what sounded like an appreciative hum and sped up his pace.
Suddenly a strangled groan escaped his clenched teeth and a new heat was filling you, one entirely distinct from your own body. His cock strained into the very depths of you, twitching as each powerful spurt of his seed coated the inside of your womb. The warmth of it filled you with a sense of satisfaction.
This was what you had sought the chieftain out for, after all.
When his cock gave its last throbs, he remained seated in you for some time, your spent body rising and falling with his own labored breath. The sweat coating your cheek mixed with the slick sheen glimmering on his chest and you absentmindedly traced a finger down his sternum, marveling at the uneven texture of his scars.
Without a word, he lifted you and cradled you in his arms when you whimpered at your sudden emptiness. Globs of his seed and your own desire spilled from you and left a sticky mess between your thighs. He swiped up some of it with his fingers and took it into his mouth before offering you the same. You mindlessly opened your mouth and laved at the salty tang coating his finger.
Then you were gliding through the dark rooms of the longhouse, the fire in the hearth suddenly nothing more than a distant glow. A mound of soft furs- the chieftains own bedding- enveloped you and you melted into them with a sigh. The blissful dark of sleep took you shortly after, for now your hunger and worries all but forgotten.
Like the very event that started this all, we're back for another year with our fourth edition of Wanksgiving!
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write as many small stories as you can to help out dear friends over in the US stuck at uncomfortable family dinners!
Do they have to be drabbles? Not at all. Do they have to contain smut? Also no. There are no rules, just write! So go forth and write what entices you, and yeet it into the collection.
The collection is now open and authors will be revealed on December 4th.
cw: smut and (pumpkin) spice, food play [whipped cream], dirty talk, umm...daddy kink (IM SORRY), creampie, size kink???
a/n: a little thankgiving cream thot :^) this is an extension of an earlier cream thot just more description~ hehe~
update: um this is a lot longer than it was supposed to be. i don't have time to read it over before dinner so here, have this half-assed smut-fest. happy wanksgiving!!
masterlist
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as soon as he pulled out the can of whipped cream -- and basically ripped off and demolished the plastic lid (he still doesn't know his own strength) -- you knew there would be a mess to clean up in the morning. not to mention the fact that miguel has a secret sweet tooth and likes his whipped cream with a side of pie.
the perfect pumpkin pie that you spent hours baking to just the right consistency and color, sits untouched on the counter watching as miguel slowly peels off your dress before dropping it to the floor.
not a lick of whipped cream has gone near the pie, even the crust remains crack-free.
his eyes don't dare to drop from your body as he drinks in the way his hands span over your soft skin. you're so small compared to him, pinned so nicely between himself and the kitchen island. you let your head tilt back as he leans in, offering the only sweetness he'll ever need.
but of course, miguel has a large appetite. he's a greedy man. he's insatiable.
rough hands squeeze at your sides as you tremble in his hold. he likes it when you do that. you're not afraid to let him do what he pleases with your body. to let him tear you apart before putting you back together. he loves the way that you need him.
"look at you, so soft and pliant for me." your breath hitches as his lips graze against the pulse point of your neck. your skin flushes involuntarily and you can feel a trail of sweet cream drip down to the curve of your shoulder as it melts from your body heat.
miguel watches hungrily as his hand moves from your torso to the sticky mess that spills over your chest. he flicks his thumb over the pool of sweetness that has settled against your collarbone before dipping it into the perfect pout of your lips.
a groan hums in the air when you hold his stare and suck the saccharine flavor off of him. "good girl..." even after all the cream is gone, your tongue drags against the pad of his thumb wantonly. he pulls his hand away with a heated look, eyes half-lidded and hungry, "now let me clean you up."
fingers intertwine in your hair, guiding your head to expose your throat for him. the touch of his hot mouth drifting over your skin makes your shiver. he laps over the ribbons of white and the melted cream that glistens over your neck like a starved man.
his tongue languidly swipes over the trails of sweet cream from your tits to your lips, humming with contentment when your back arches to press your body against his mouth. you grip his broad shoulders as he sucks love bites against the skin he licked clean, marking you as his.
he sighs praises against your skin as his sticky hands continue to move down your body, gripping and groping over your soft spots. the remnants of the cream are slathered over the two of you, but you're too distracted to care.
"please," you beg breathlessly, "more. i-i need you, inside."
"i know, baby," he coos, "you're just so empty without me, aren't you..." you feel him hastily shove your drenched thong to the side to get a better look at your dripping heat. just the sight of your desperate cunt gives him tunnel vision. it's practically begging to be fucked by his fingers, cock, or tongue. "you need daddy to fill you up, don't you?"
you can only nod as you watch him expertly unlatch his belt and unbutton his slacks. he's already so hard for you, pressing desperately against the dark fabric of his pants. your hands drift down from the wide expanse of his covered chest to cup at his bulge. his hips grind against your touch, craving any type of relief he can get.
"all for you, honey." he murmurs.
when he finally shoves down his pants, he wastes no time before picking you up and setting you at the edge of the counter. he's so tall that you're positioned at the perfect height for him to fuck you in.
your legs part invitingly to let him in to your space. he leans over you and watches as he lovingly drags the tip of his cock against the slick mess that drips from your needy hole.
"always so ready for me..."
you sigh at the feeling of his (formerly) ironed shirt pressing against the peaks of your tits, "only you, miguel."
"only me." he echoes.
he groans deeply as he enters you. he's slow, letting you get used to the feeling of him stretching you out. you whimper at the sensation, thighs shaking and threatening to tighten around him as he pushes in deeper.
it's intense when he bottoms out, his cock filling you up completely. your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts to move, the head of his cock kissing right against your sweet spot with each thrust. he's just so big, you can't help it.
your body practically convulses with every roll of his hips, but you know there's isn't a risk of you falling off the table with the way he holds your waist. all thoughts are glazed over by a lecherous fog, every neuron numbed.
"so little..." his head rests against your shoulder as he stares down at the way he fills you up. warmth spreads to the bottom of your stomach as he palms at the small bulge that sticks out from the angle that he's fucking you at. "look at you, baby. taking me so well."
your eyes drop to where you're connected and you clench around him at the sight. his cock is dripping with the essence of you as he repeatedly fills you up, again and again.
he lets out a deep rumbling groan against your tacky skin at how tight you're getting. the pleasure that thrums throughout your body builds quickly, and before you know it, you're reaching your peak.
miguel can tell that you're at the cusp of your climax with the way you're desperately clawing at his shoulder sand whining against the shell of his ear. he aims thrusts upwards into you, dragging so perfectly against that euphoric spot deep inside of you.
"go ahead, cariño. let go for me."
you let out a breathless gasp as your body jerks with pleasure. miguel can only hold onto you as you arch against him, continuing to grind himself against your cunt as you flutter around him.
"you're so good to me, sweetheart." your body is so overstimulated that you can barely decipher what he's saying. "gonna fill you up, baby. give you want you need." the words are deliriously panted into the side of your neck as he finishes himself off, holding your cock-drunk body against his.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Here’s my fic and art for this year’s Wanksgiving, which is an amazing idea, even if I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. I contribute by making you hungry and thirsty. 😄
I'm hurrying as fast as I can to finish something for Wanksgiving tomorrow! I have an absolutely raunchy daemon!Fulgrim x Reader oneshot coming up, and I hit 1,360 words today!
No NSFW content (yet), but it is quite suggestive:
The twin suns of Callax bless the gardens with silver-gold light, glistening off the rippling waters of a fountain in the middle. Marble statues decorate the center of the fountain, cast in erotic poses while water flows from their open mouths, erect cocks, and spread pussies. On the outskirts of the fountain, roses with petals in multiple shades of purple open in your direction.
Where most of the courtiers in Zephron’s quarters were daemons, the courtiers in the garden are…human. Well, human-looking. A Chaos Astartes lounges in a grotto in the fountain with a pair of courtiers; one feeds him grapes while the other sucks on his nipples. A rope bed laden with pillows swings between a pair of flowering trees, allowing an Astartes and a courtier to embrace so passionately that it is impossible to tell where one begins and where one ends.
No one seems to have noticed your approach so far, and your stomach twists. It was a mistake to come here; you are nothing more than a poseur among this grandeur and they’ll kick you back down the spiral staircase for Zephron to laugh at you. But if you can stay just a little longer in the prince’s garden, it’ll all be worth it.
Wanksgiving is the perfect time for me to write as much porn as I want without worrying about plot or anything interesting the real question is can I take it seriously and lock in or will it be another "from tongue to testes" situation
