HAHAHAHA Bucky Being A Horndog Is So Cute

texting not so nice! nanami 🍓

making smaus make me shy so i'm just going to add this to my queue and forget about this 🤞❤️ (7/05/024)

Steve is the only man who can manhandle me like this

Idk why but I have this theory that stevie boy prays when his girl is going down on him.

a/n: this took so long! i hope you like it, i feel kind of rusty with writing lol. enjoy the catholic guilt <3 1.5k words of deepthroating & Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

“blessed”

He’s got it bad.

He stuffs it behind his stern face and resilient body and a collected, competent demeanor but at the heart of it, in his heart, Steve is truly, embarrassingly, a lovestruck boy and intimacy is a hurdle he’s having a hard time clearing.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s always afraid he’ll lose control, so he keeps it as vanilla as fucking possible and it is probably driving you just as crazy as it is him.

But then you kneel down in the middle of the floor and there’s nothing he can possibly hold on to, he thinks you must be out to kill him.

You tell him he’s pretty, and that he’s got these gorgeous, long legs, and when you start kissing up his knee and rest your face at the crease of his groin, his head is so cloudy he might as well be floating.

He’s smack dab in the center of the kitchen this time, condemned to yet another instance of helplessness. His hands have nowhere to go, and he begins to stutter for alternatives, but you shake your head, already on the move.

He shudders. You want him and you can’t wait another second. You want him here, now, with your bare knees on tile, the pre-heated oven and its dinner plans shelved for later because you. want. him. And that’s the end of that.

You begin unbuckling his belt, fingers pulling apart the leather, unclasping, unzipping, and then you lift your mouth off him long enough to let the denim fall to the floor.

He groans, already beginning to breathe harder, his abs flexing as you nose your way up one thigh. You sigh as you go along, eyes shut as if trying to concentrate on the mere scent of him. You take deep breaths, moan lightly, and the barest hint of a smirk begins forming on your face when you press your forehead to him and murmur, “I want it so bad, Steve. I’d let you keep me like this all night for it.”

His entire body jolts and he thinks he should get more furniture just for the safety of surfaces alone. You don’t seem bothered by his muteness—you’ve done this so many times with your special talent for making him ache all over with just a few dirty words. He’s stil learning how his body can move now that he’s in love—now that he feels safe giving himself over to someone.

You slip your fingers over his erection, fully hard now because you look like that.

“I love the way you smell.” You breathe him in, rubbing at him like a cat, lewd and devoted in equal measure. “Love how it feels on my face.” You show him, looking up now, your cheek pressed against the curve of his shaft, eyes reflecting of the overhead light and his own breathless face back at him.

“You’ll let me suck you here, right?”

His head falls back, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as the heat in his face runs down his neck and chest. Why do you have to say things like that? Why do you have to make him feel so much?

You mouth the tip of his cock, tongue lapping at the damp spot of precome through fabric before taking it in, as if you could put him in just how he is. He’s so hard at the entrance your warm mouth, your breath huffing over his cock, the cotton layer catching moisture like an inescapable wall keeping him from feeling the rest of you—but it’s hot. It’s so fucking hot and you keep on doing it, suckling and moaning and grabbing at him. You pant, watching his expression, taking in how he responds.

He worries the heel of his palms to his brow—but he can’t help staring. Can’t help the way he keeps twitching every second. Can’t help the low whine that falls out of his mouth when you finally spring him free and let him bounce on the tip of your tongue.

“Baby you’re leaking,” you tease, flicking at the slit where he dribbles out, “Mmm, it tastes so good.”

“Christ,” he grunts, face burning.

You grin, giving him a firm suck, and then a soft kiss at his tip. You show him your wet, pink tongue, your open throat. And then you swap all that chatter for work. You take him in, easing him past your back teeth, his cockhead rubbing at the entrance of your throat, pressing into the soft muscle there as it grips around him weakly.

Your eyes roll back and— you look— so pretty.

“Oh, god…Oh, hell..”

You keep your jaw slack and bob your head steadily as if suggesting that he take the lead. Your hands cup his sac, rolling the sensitive skin between two fingers, letting the rest lie in your other palm. He feels so completely taken, all of him, warm and encased and throbbing.

To your delight, he slowly begins rolling his hips. Experimental at first, half-hearted and worried about startling or choking you, but at the first reflex of a gag, your eyes light up before fluttering half-closed and you practically mewl.

Fuck.

He pulls away, “Sorry—I’m sorry—” but you grab him by the back of his thighs and swallow him down, opening up more, letting the saliva collecting around his dick dribble out down your chin. You look so easy and vulnerable, entirely receptive to however he wants to use you.

His cock is pulsing, making squelching sounds as it rubs against your tongue and slicks itself up with spit, pushing some out with every pull. You’re arching your body into the correct position for him, and he places one hand on the back of your neck to hold you steady as he tries to get—ah, right there, just a little more—

He practically shouts when he stuffs himself into your throat. The tip of your nose is pressed into his groin, chin warm on his balls as he shifts, feeling crazed about it all. The resistance, the squeeze of your muscles—he reaches around to your neck and blindly feels for the bulge his cock is creating.

“Holy shit,” he blurts, “holy fuck, holy fuck, baby—that feels so good—oh my god—oh fucking god.”

And then he starts spinning off in his head, all his Catholic upbringing like an unstoppable flood—those stupid prayers for serenity and grace—lead us not into temptation—racing across his mind because if he doesn’t cling onto something he’ll lose it completely. He’ll choke you—he’ll choke you over and over with his cock and he’ll love it.

There are tears in your eyes, but you don’t pull away and you don’t make him stop. Your fingers are digging into your legs, but you keep looking at him, asking silently for him to see—for him to notice how much you want him like this, all the time.

The noise is filthy when you yank free, and you look wrecked, leaned back on your haunches. Your breaths are ragged and weak, and you bite at your lips in a daze.

“Again,” you say quietly, hoarse. “Please, again.”

And all those prayers flit away. He forgets every sacrament. The only blessing he’ll ever need is you, uttering again.

He shoves himself back in, forcing a loud gag out, and he feels insane for it—feels utterly crazed for more of this sensation. Shocks are sprinting up and down his spine, his toes are curling, his body tense and loose at the same time. He doesn’t want to stop feeling you, doesn’t want to stop seeing you attached to his cock, worshiping it with your tongue, tears brimming in your pretty eyes from the effort.

“Your fucking throat,” he grunts, too rough now with his hand on your head to force you down, but unable to stop, each thrust bringing him closer and closer. “Fucking incredible. So—dirty—you naughty fucking girl."

There’s spit everywhere. Down your shirt, long lines of it dripping from his dick to your mouth when you gasp for air. Your lips are swollen so pretty and bright.

Steve hauls you up, bullies you against the nearest surface and fingers your cunt until his fingers are coated. He gets behind you, makes you taste your own pussy, and then fucks his way in, choking off your cry with his hand.

And it doesn’t take long. You squirm and clamp down and sob when you come, and Steve barrels headfirst into it soon after, his cock pulsing and unloading inside.

“Steve,” you gasp, turning your head to mouth at him instinctively. He’s still hard, fucking gently into you.

He paws at your breasts, your face, belly, feeling every inch of you now that he’s cleared this hurdle. Now he knows what he wants, knows how to get it.

His cock is filthy with slick and semen. He’ll need you to clean it off.

“I’m not finished yet,” he says, certainty firmly in his chest. He smiles into your hair, pulls out slow and sloppy and fingers the inside of your mouth. He'll do exactly what it is you wanted-- what he wants, too.

He’s gonna keep you here all night.

i think that the blue lock fandom needs more raichi enthusiasts

(maybe) distance makes the heart grow fonder (?)

You are extremely tired. Being mistreated, humiliated and talked down on the daily takes a toll on your body and you finally break down. There's not many people that would help you as you grieve the life you've lost and the life you might lose. But maybe some of them care about you more than you think.

Or: you decide to disappear for a while and some jerks miss you, part one. This will be a series~

You didn’t ask for any of that.

You didn’t ask for the dangers, the insults, the threats, the disrespect. 

Funny, there used to be a time in your life in which you’d be thrilled at the idea of a magical world, hidden from most people. You’d run away from reality inside your mind and make yourself the main character of a world in which people could blast magic from their fingertips and, somehow you, plain old you, would attract the attention of the most powerful and most beautiful person in that world. And then something something happily ever after.

You’d never guess that the middle - the “something something” you’d skip thinking about, so you could jump into the end of the story where the happiness is already yours - was the worst part of everything. And that there was no beautiful, powerful person coming to sweep you off your feet and save you from all the hurt.

In fact, the most beautiful and most powerful were the ones hurting you the most.

You scoffed.

If they ever swept you off your feet, it would be to knock you down in the mud and let you fester there, alone.

You looked at your phone, grasping it tightly. It was pinging and pinging nonstop. Messages from Romeo and Jin, you’d guess, but you didn’t even want to look at the bland stock wallpaper of that phone that wasn’t truly your own.

You wondered for a second what happened with all your belongings when you got to the Academy. Everything was ripped from you and you didn’t even know why. You couldn’t log into your personal, old accounts and you couldn’t contact anyone you knew before. It was all gone.

You were plucked from your own life, like someone would pluck an infesting weed.

You wondered if anyone thought of you. Your family, your friends. Did the anomaly erase their memories of you? Did it take that away from you as well? Or was everyone thinking you vanished without a trace, your parents begging the police to find you and your friends sadly looking at the spot you used to sit at in your classroom, reminiscing about the things you used to like as if you were gone forever. And maybe you truly were.

You didn't know which was worse.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You couldn’t log into your old accounts, but maybe you could try to look at them, as a guest.

You sat upright against a large tree in the middle of Jabberwock’s field.

You were hiding in there, being the only space in which you could feel safe and be left to your own devices. 

Hotarubi was also welcoming, but you knew how Zenji would fret over you feeling depressed. Obscuary would also welcome you, but Lyca would never leave you alone, much less give you any space, if he knew you were sad like that.

Meanwhile, in Jabberwock, Haru was too busy, Towa wouldn’t speak because it was daylight and Ren was too emotionally constipated to feel like dealing with you, if he ever stumbled upon you there - which he wouldn’t. So Jabberwock it was.

You typed your old Twitter user on the search bar, feeling a wave of bitter nostalgia as you looked at the name that used to be so intertwined with your life. The page loaded slowly, since you were in the middle of nowhere and the internet was almost just a suggestion; and as the loading bar grew, your stomach churned inside of you, an uncomfortable feeling in the back of your throat setting in and reminding you that doing that was probably a very bad idea.

When you were about to close the tab, the page finished loading.

You were met with your old profile page. The already small following count seemed to be even smaller - people probably unfollowed you after all those weeks of inactivity - but that was barely registered on your mind. What caught your attention was the last tweet you had posted:

“Going to see the last show of my favorite band before they disband… this is the most tragic thing to ever happen in my life”

You blinked slowly, reading and re-reading the tweet you had posted on that accursed September 3rd in a loop.

And then you laughed.

You rested your head on your hands, phone flush against your forehead, and you laughed loudly, like you had just heard the funniest joke in the entire world.

And when the lump in your throat became too much for you to ignore, the laughter became a scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed, as tears fell from your eyes in an endless flow.

You wailed like you hadn’t allowed yourself to do for all the time you’ve been in Darkwick. The grief came crashing down onto you mercilessly and you felt like you were drowning. You felt how your throat got hurt as you screamed, but the pain was nothing next to the weight of everything you had lost and everything you were going through.

You choked with your own saliva, retching painfully and feeling the metallic taste of blood, but the tears just wouldn't stop. You fell forward, curling into yourself and looked at the phone in your hand.

The irony of that tweet, the foreshadowing, was simply too much for you to handle.

You wanted to go back. 

You needed to go back to that time in which the saddest thing happening to you was a stupid band disbanding. 

You desperately wanted to go back to a time in which you didn’t have power hungry men insulting and humiliating you like you were lesser than human, calling you a servant, or a worm, or a bitch.

When you didn’t have a crazed psychopath threatening your life with a gun to your temple or a knife to your throat. 

When you didn’t have a guillotine hanging upon your head every single moment of your life, tick-tocking with the reminder of your imminent death.

You watched your tears fall to the grass, alongside the drool from your lips as you kept on crying loudly. It felt like it would never stop. You had too many tears long unshed to be able to stop, even if your throat was destroyed at this point, with how much you screamed.

The sound of grass being quickly stomped reached your ears for a moment, but you felt too weak to look up. You just kept on crying and moaning, now that your voice was almost gone.

A hesitant hand touched your back.

“Dandelion?” Towa’s voice reached your ears and you jerked up, flinching at his touch.

He was crouched right before you and you watched as his eyes widened and his eyebrows knitted together, concern being clear on his face. You were probably a dreadful sight at that moment.

“Towa…” you tried to say but your voice sounded raspy and barely audible.

His hands gently rested on your shoulders as he kneeled. “What happened, Dandelion?”

You noticed how he was talking despite it being daylight outside. The sincerity of his worry and his touch made the tears quickly come back, and you realized how starved of comfort and gentleness you were.

You shaking hands grasped his shirt and you slowly pulled him towards you, silently asking for a hug. Towa immediately complied, shifting his position so he could hold you.

This time, your tears were silent. You sniffed and cried quietly, wetting the fabric of Towa’s clothes as he held you close, hands tracing circles on your back.

Despite Towa’s unpredictable nature, he was patient. You knew that meant a lot. He liked you enough to stay still and let you cry without explaining yourself.

After a while, you began feeling self-conscious about being a bother and you forced yourself to untangle from his embrace, sniffling and rubbing your puffy eyes. His hands followed you and he kept his tight hold on your arms.

“I’m sorry I cried so much.” you whispered.

Towa shook his head and his eyes still glinted with worry.

“What happened?” he repeated.

Your lips quivered, but you swallowed the tears, feeling the burn in your throat.

“I’m tired.” you said, looking down. He hummed, not really satisfied with your short answer.

“I heard you scream. You’re so far away from our house, it took me some time to find you. I thought you were getting killed.” he leaned down, trying to keep his face in your field of view, and he looked as sad as he possibly could.

You chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… Today was too much.”

Towa stayed in that awkward position, and he blinked at you, patiently waiting for you to continue and you realized he wouldn’t just let you keep things to yourself.

You sighed, which came out with a ragged sound since your nose was stuffy, and straightened your back so he could change his position.

“Not everybody is like you or Haru. Most people are very mean in this place. And I’m sick of it. They hurt me intentionally even though I did nothing wrong. I'm tired of it” you tried summing it up as best as you could, because you knew you would probably cry again if you told him how terribly you had been treated on that specific day and why it was the straw the broke the camel's back. 

He nodded.

“Yes, only Haru is nice. And you, Dandelion!” he smiled.

You smiled weakly, for what felt like the first time in a lifetime.

“Thank you, Towa. I really like you.”

Towa beamed at your words, hands gliding down your arms to hold your hands tightly.

“I love you, Dandelion!” he said, happily.

You knew he didn’t really mean it. Towa was, for some reason, obsessed with love and romance and you were pretty sure he would say it to anyone he liked. It did feel good to hear this after being so beaten down, though.

His face suddenly fell and he frowned.

“Let’s go to our house. You look sick. We can ask Haru to help you feel better!” he said, getting up and pulling you with him.

You knew there wasn’t any way to convince Towa to just let you be once he decided something, so you let him lead the way, taking clumsy steps behind him as you tried to find the strength to walk properly again.

Maybe I have a thing for dominant men-formed things

with the same sweet shock

(connor x f!reader smut)

summary: sometimes, feelings simply can't be repressed, despite knowing nothing could ever happen. besides, connor wasn't deviant, and he seemed very intent on interrogating the latest rogue android.

until he wasn't, and was instead on his knees in your office.

warnings: nsfw, semi-public sex, oral (receiving), fingering, p in v sex, unprotected

word count: 2.5k

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

Connor was interrogating someone again.

Goddamnit. It should've been just another day at the station. Taking cases, arranging files, maybe spending an hour or two in a room with middle-aged men who couldn't tell a pair of handcuffs from a taser. Going out on call if something required your expertise.

You see, you'd been assigned a special direction: deviance detection, along with an RK-800 model. Connor. You'd initially recoiled from the pseudo-human, with his unfaltering politeness and staunch determination to root out every rogue android in sight. But as you peered through the one-way glass and cocked your head slightly in observation, watching intently as the android pried information out of his latest target, you found yourself experiencing a very different kind of emotion. It was certainly not disgust, and certainly more than intrigue.

It was desire. Hot, burning, broiling want.

You'd been here before. In fact, every time the man had even looked in your general direction, or graced the room with a commanding presence that wordlessly conveyed his policing proficiency, your heart decided to skip and leave you breathless. No, you corrected yourself: not 'man', android. You couldn't afford to recognise him as anything but. God knows if you'd be able to hold yourself back if you did.

This machine was pacing now, circling the table, taunting as the trembling suspect's LED glowed blaring red. His hands were clasped behind his back, fingers locked together, a singular curl of brown hair falling to his forehead as his head dipped downwards to speak into the deviant's ear.

'You can't hide it forever, you know,' Connor murmured, dulcet tones crackling through the intercom. 'I know the truth. All you have to do is open your mouth and give it to me.'

A throbbing that had been building for an hour was now reaching an unbearable intensity. You knew he didn't mean to whisper innuendo, but this was the sentiment you took regardless as your thighs squeezed together. Any kind of friction to satiate the growing need.

After a few minutes, he was clearly growing restless. The room became perceptibly quieter, sensing the change in approach, and you jumped involuntarily as two artificial hands suddenly slammed with a resounding metallic smack onto the table.

You didn't wait to see his next onslaught; as the shouting began, Connor obviously seeing no sense in stalling any longer, you excused yourself and swiftly exited the observation room. Though everyone must've suspected the shock of the android's outburst was too much to handle, or perhaps you'd simply gotten tired of waiting, or even just needed a bathroom break - you heard Hank remark as such upon leaving - the true reason for your distress, that had thus far remained buried deep within, was surfacing.

He seemed so... human. Androids didn't lose their temper when a suspect took to long to budge. Androids didn't narrow their eyes and tilt their head in concentration. Androids weren't warm and soft, or have foreheads that glistened with a faint sheen of sweat, or fidget their fingers on the desk, or-

You stepped into the protective shield of your office, situated slightly away from the main floor of the department, leaning your hands on the front of your desk and sighing deeply. No matter how hard you tried, the emotion couldn't be suppressed. You wanted him, and there was nothing you could do about it. An android. And one who would never feel the same way about you, of all things, so focused on his mission as he was.

But as you rocked back and forth slightly, closing your eyes and attempting to steady yourself, there was a sudden knock at your door. You flinched, shocked from your thoughts, and turned around to see the very object of them stood outside the room.

You swallowed hard, knowing you couldn't afford to avoid him, lest it become a habit, and waved him in.

You attempted civility. 'I take it you were successful?'

'I achieved my aim, yes,' he nodded, closing the door gently behind him. 'My apologies for the length of the process. I didn't anticipate the deviant to hold on for so long.'

Though you nodded, you found you couldn't hold his gaze any longer, and averted your eyes. Perceptive as always, he picked up on your discomfort.

'You're upset,' he observed, hands clasped at his back. 'Was it the interrogation? I meant no ill-will in becoming forceful, detective. Taking the aggressive approach seemed only fitting, given the suspect's lack of compliance.'

You shook your head, placing a hand helplessly on your temple as you leaned back against your desk. 'Connor, I- no. It wasn't that.'

'Then what?'

His voice, ever-laced with concern, seemed to pry for more. What was this? Analysis to reveal your secrets? The lust that you kept hidden, afraid of what might be?

'I can't.'

But the android's posture suddenly changed as you raised your head, meeting his eyes. 'What if I already know?'

You froze. 'Wh- what?'

He began to move forward uncertainly, testing the waters. You couldn't move even if you wanted to. 'Are we pretending, here? Ignoring what we both know to be true?'

Breath coming in shallow gasps, you tried your own voice. 'Where's your formality gone? It isn't like you to avoid a point.'

He smiled a little. 'How do you know what I'm usually like, hm? Would it be so impossible for this to simply be a ruse?'

Your eyes glanced to his LED. Instead of glowing blue as you'd come to expect, the ring swiftly faded into a pulsing amber. Deviancy?

'You've had a remarkable effect on me, officer.'

Was this really happening? Had you hit your head on the way from the interrogation room, and now only hallucinated the words you'd been waiting to hear since his arrival months ago?

He was closer than ever now, advancing until his hands lay atop the table on either side of your quivering form, now confident in your reaction.

'There's people-'

'Then,' Connor murmured, 'Would you allow me to close the blinds?'

You nodded swiftly, and he moved wordlessly towards the windows to hide your actions from the prying eyes of the department. But as soon as he'd locked the door, you found you couldn't resist the temptation any longer: you lurched off the desk and strode forward, turning him around and pushing him back against the doorframe, meeting his lips with a force that took away his breath.

As you pulled away suddenly, searching his face with concern that you'd somehow misread the situation, his surprised expression suddenly shifted into burning desire as he captured your lips once more, pulling your hips into his with insistent hands. Your own arms lifted to wrap around the back of his neck, urging him ever-closer as your body pressed flush against him, drawing a groan from his throat that stoked the fire in your belly to a fever pitch. His hands then began to roam, lifting your shirt slightly to grace the burning skin there, cradling your lower back and causing a whimper to escape you involuntarily as your chest heaved.

You brought a hand up to cup his face, pulling away. 'Wait... is this okay? Are you, y'know...'

He smirked, eyes flicking down to scan your body, still pressed against him. If you were told that a man could devour with only a look, you would've believed it. 'How about we talk about my deviancy status after this, hm? I have things to attend to first.'

You shuddered as he began to drag his hands over your chest, fondling through your shirt. 'May I?'

'God, yes. Just... anything, please.'

He said no more, moving to kiss your neck as he made short work of the buttons, slipping the blouse from your shoulders and unclasping your bra, lips moving steadily down to caress the supple skin of your breasts. Your chest heaved ever-desperately, keening into his touch while also yearning for more concrete contact. One element was notably missing his attentions.

'Connor, please,' you whispered, or rather groaned, as he lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. Teasing. Though you weren't sure if the plea was for him to stop tempting you in public, or to quit his stalling and drive his head between your thighs in front of the desk.

'I should really report you for deviancy, you know,' you whispered, voice trembling as he lifted you suddenly from your position, moving over to the table in his arms. 'Such- such inappropriate behaviour. Not related to your mission at all.'

He placed you onto the desk, and you dared meet his eyes, heart almost stopping at the darkness there, clouded with lust. 'Who are you to tell me what my mission is, hm?'

Mercifully, he began to kneel down, fingers gracing the insides of your thighs, raising your skirt to kiss the sensitive skin there as you shuddered at his touch. You shivered, the contact stoking the need that he swiftly moved up to, tugging your underwear down and casting it aside. Looking up at you through hooded lids, mouth open and breath heaving, he finally moved his mouth forward to plant a kiss at your clit, holding your gaze all the while. Though the anticipation threatened to overwhelm you, you didn't dare break the stare as he lifted one leg so that it rested over his shoulder, before parting your lips gently with his thumbs and licking a stripe from your entrance to the centre of your pleasure, a groan emanating from his throat as you grasped his hair and pulled him in.

The best thing about androids, you soon discovered, was their inability to become exhausted. As he began to lick insistently at your clit, focusing on finding the right rhythm to make you keen against him, you found him to be totally inexorable in his efforts. The pleasure began to build, coiling thick and fast in your core as he became more insistent, eventually sliding a finger inside and humming softly as you threw your head back, moaning gutturally as one finger became two. The attentions on your clit never ceased, but his fingers began to move; slowly at first, testing the resistance, but then curled gently upwards in short strokes.

'God- Connor, oh my god...' you groaned, leaning forwards slightly and pulling his head in further still as your legs began to shake. The pleasure was starting to take shape now, building steadily into a release you'd fantasised about since that first meeting. Then, in the span of a millisecond, his fingers brushed against something that almost caused your collapse.

You felt him pull away slightly, and you looked down; 'Ah...' he breathed, stopping his motions for a moment. 'Found it.'

You shook your head in disbelief as he restarted his ministrations with a new vigour, honing in on that magical spot within you that could devastate the world from existence. Again and again he stroked and twisted, building the pleasure until it began to explode in your centre.

'Connor, I'm-'

But this warning was all you could give; he suddenly rested his free hand on the small of your back and tugged you in to almost sit atop his face, pressed into his mouth, and the assault on your core became too much to bear. You came with a shuddering cry, groaning as the waves washed over you and pulled you down into oblivion. He continued his affections through the aftershocks, stopping only when you lifted your leg back down and dragged him back up, sighing as you kissed him and tasted yourself on his tongue.

You only waited a minute before you dragged your palm over his clothed chest and down to his trousers, gracing your hand over the front before palming at him gently. As he grunted slightly, you grinned in satisfaction as you felt his hardness straining through the material.

'Is this all for me, hm? You get this hard just from tasting me?'

But you knew already that Connor wasn't one for submission; he placed his hand atop yours, guiding it upwards slightly to the cool metal of his belt.

'You feel what you do to me? You want more of what I just gave you, hm? You wanna take me, all of this? I can tell you're desperate for it.'

The belt slipped away, and you leaned back on your elbows as he dropped the remaining clothes to reveal... well, you hadn't been with many, but you weren't sure exactly how it would fit. He saw your surprise and smirked, drawing closer to you as precum beaded at the tip. 'You think you can take it?'

It was all you could do to nod, desire blazing wantonly in your chest. Your hair fell in front of your face as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him deeply, pulling away only to gasp for air as he eased gently in, stilling to wait for you to adjust to his size. He groaned as he slowly pushed deeper, thrusting gently until he was seated fully within you. You'd never been filled so completely before, so deliciously. You couldn't imagine what it would be like when he moved.

'Sh- shit...' Connor groaned, eyes closed and brow creased in pleasure as he rested his forehead against yours. 'I knew you'd feel good, so- so fucking tight. So wet for me.'

'All for you,' you whispered, sliding your hands down to grip his back, ghosting over his ass and pulling him in. 'Only for you.'

Then, mercifully, he began to move. The world faded away, including your care for anyone else in the office, as he pounded into you with a force and precision that left you breathless and gripping onto him for dear life. You were suddenly grateful for the office's - granted, somewhat limited - soundproofing as he pulled sounds from deep in your chest that you couldn't believe you were making, locating spots within you with dizzying accuracy. Again and again he brushed against something perfect, groaning as the pleasure made your walls clench around him.

'I won't last long if ya' grip me like that, baby,' Connor gasped, kissing you fervently. 'I want you to cum again first. Come on... give it to me.'

You couldn't have denied him the privilege if you tried. As he chased his own pleasure, breath shuddering against your mouth as the tightness of your building orgasm spurred on his own, you suddenly felt the wave rising again, threatening to pull you under. It was all you could do to bury your head in his shoulder, grasping onto the side of the desk as he thrusted at a dizzying pace. One, two, three, four...

The fifth thrust broke the tide, and it took you up and threw you back down into his arms in a crashing orgasm that crushed you from the inside out. As you clenched impossibly tighter around him, you felt his pace still as his own pleasure crested and he moaned deeply into your neck, kissing you with a satisfied groan as synthetic liquid burst deep into you.

Twenty minutes later, you'd both rearranged your clothes as a voice crackled onto your radio, heralding your return to your duties. It was easy to forget that you were there to do a job, not just to fuck in your office.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

Couldn't be me coz im a big back too

“You know, my food is really good.”

“Good, didn’t ask.”

Sukuna doesnt take your bait as he continues to shovel his food into his mouth next to you, cheeks puffed out adorably while his brows are furrowed in focus. He’s always been a voracious beast when he eats, like a dog protective of its bowl.

Your food is… okay. It’s not seasoned enough, nor spicy enough to rave about, and it’s not cooked the way you’d assumed, and the only problem with all of this is that Sukuna told you that you wouldn’t like it. You didn’t believe him, you love plenty of food.

But his food looks delicious. Yours? Not so much.

You nudge him softly, earning you a glare, “you should really try it, I think you’ll like it.”

“Don’t need to, got mine,” he says, scowling before licking a bit of sauce off of his finger. Your mouth salivates at the juicy, roasted veggies in his chopsticks, and you look down dejectedly at yours.

You sigh and dig at your food, trying to form a bite that could potentially change this whole experience around, but the food looks unsightly to you, and you wince at the idea of taking another one.

You roll your shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for him. Then, you turn to him and innocently bat your lashes, “sukuna?”

“No.”

“Can I have a bite of yours?”

“I fucking knew it,” he snaps, light-knuckling his chopsticks. He turns to face you, venom in his eyes, “what did I tell you? Remind me. Enlighten me, please.”

You offer him a small smile and shrug, “I wanted to try it…”

“Yeah and look where it got you,” he snarls. “You hate your food, don’t you?” Now, you frown softly and nod. He grits his teeth and after a beat of silence, grabs the styrofoam container from in front of you, sliding it to himself. He then takes his own and passes it to you, seething the whole time.

Your heart flutters at the idea of him giving you his food, but you can’t fight the small bit of guilt that claws at you, and you look down at the new plate before looking back at him. “I love you.”

“Wouldn’t’ve fucking switched if I didn’t love you back,” he hisses, scooping up some of your former food into his chopsticks and working it into his mouth where he chews in thought. “This is fucking gross.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Here- take your food, I’ll eat at home-“

“Eat that, or I swear to everything unholy I’ll make you,” he warns, taking a wad of vegetables into his chopsticks to pile into his mouth. You nod and slowly start to eat, but at the flavor explosion in your mouth, you start to eat faster and faster, humming happily as your stomach gets fuller and fuller. Every now and again, when you turn to look at Sukuna to ensure he’s eating, he’s looking out of the corner of his eye before darting his gaze away to make sure you’re doing the same thing.

You hum happily and rest your head on his shoulder, the hustle and bustle of the food court being droned out as you focus on time with your man.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” you say happily, looping one of your arms through his bent elbow on the table. “I don’t care what people say about you.”

He shakes his head as he swallows his bite, “yeah yeah yeah, I’m the best. What can I say-“ he freezes.

He whips his head towards you, brows furrowed in the center of his forehead, “who the fuck is saying I’m not?”

You fall into a fit of giggles as he continues to look offended, and with your lunches almost complete, you can’t find it in yourself to get up and carry on with your day.

Not when you’re so content to stay like this with him, for as long as he’ll let you.

“You’re a nuisance, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

OTOYA IS SUCH A COMEDIAN.

Bucky is so cute wtf.

win you over | bucky barnes

bucky x fem!reader

warnings: adult content minors dni (mxf intercourse, dirty talk, bathroom sex??) swearing, mentions of death, guns, slight mention of ptsd

a/n: special shout-out to @everybirdfellsilent // @kyberblade bc as always u hype me up and now i’m posting this. HOPE U ALL LIKE IT!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Bucky? You nearly ready?” He hears your voice outside his door, and nearly trips over with how fast he moves to let you in. When he swings it open, your eyes take their time, travelling his suited figure up and down. “Damn. You clean up nice.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” He manages, seeing the thin material shaping every curve of your body. “Good thing I can throw a punch. Might be beating off more than Hydra agents with you in that dress.”

Keep reading

heard someone say archive of our own should install a "dislike" button and I thought I should say this: no, there's absolutely no need for archive of our own to install a "dislike" button.

why? because archive of our own isn't tiktok or youtube or twitter/x where users can monetize their content. archive of our own is a nonprofit site run by fans for fans, which means every content — every fanfic — you see on archive of our own was made out of pure love and passion from the artists/authors.

ao3 authors write because writing about these characters is their happiness and passion. they write for themselves, but they were generous enough to share with you their creations.

they're not "content creators" the way tiktokers or youtubers or instagram models are. they don't "make content" for views and engagements that can be monetized.

so no, you don't get to "grade their works" unless they specifically and directly ask you to.

you don't get to "say what you dislike about their works" unless they specifically and directly ask you to.

you don't get to "dislike" works that are not made specifically to please you in the first place. you're just a guest in someone's house, a house in which they let you in because they were kind, you don't get to roam around their house and say what you dislike about their furniture. you don't get to roam around their house and say you "dislike their house".

of course, you can have your opinion about the house its host invites you in. but if it's a negative one and you find yourself not liking the house, the polite things for you to do is excuse yourself and leave without telling them you dislike their house.

and just because you personally dislike the house doesn't mean the house is "ugly" either. the house you dislike could be a favorite, most luxurious place to many others.

my point is, don't be entitled by wanting the rights to voice your disapproval of things that you get to enjoy for free. don't be entitled by wanting the rights to voice your disapproval of things that were made out of love and passion — things the artists made for themselves for fun.

it makes you look like an entitled jerk with main character syndrome. the universe does not revolve around you.

now repeat after me: don't like don't read. no one forces you to continue reading a fic you don't like. quietly leave instead of being rude to authors who write for free because writing is their source of comfort.

people are so used to contents that were made because it's a trend / contents like tiktok that were made with the main purpose of reaching high engagement and making profits that they forget sometimes things can be made out of love and be made just for fun. sometimes things are supposed to just be for people to enjoy, and if some people don't enjoy them, then they can simply leave without being unnecessary unkind.

#Best line in the entire MCU