#“i whisper your name night after night”???? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

navybrat817 · 3 days ago

Text

Where Worlds Collide - Intro

Pairing: Silver Fox!Sugar Daddy!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Female Reader

Summary: Your boss forces you to be eye candy for an alpha at a gala, but things take a turn for the better when you meet another alpha. Does it matter that you don't belong in his world?

Word Count: Over 9.2k

Warnings: Smut, v. fingering, possessive behavior, dirty talk, instant connection, A/B/O dynamics, talk of bonding, misogyny, unspecified age gap, insecurities, world building, choking (not our reader… yet), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: I'm pretty proud of the intro to this world, lovelies! @whisperlullaby, @targaryenvampireslayer, @tavners, here it is! Ant thanks to @queenoftheworldisdead as well. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Soft music drifted from the ballroom as you stepped into the lavish venue. You’d never been to a gala before. Your family wasn’t wealthy enough to receive an invitation, nor did your last name carry any influence. The only reason you were there tonight was because of the alpha on your arm, all thanks to your boss’s insistence that you accompany him.

It was an evening of style, grace, and luxury, and you didn’t belong.

You held your breath as you walked deeper into the ballroom, the glittering chandeliers casting a refined glow over everything. A mix of alphas, betas, and omegas socialized and gossiped, their glamorous evening wear glittering under the lights. You had designed a few of the dresses and suits, but none of the people wearing them would recognize you. The alpha you worked for always took the credit. Complaining about it wouldn’t help. After all, you’d only sound like an ungrateful omega and hundreds of other omegas would beg to take your place.

You couldn’t wait for the day you quit.

Chet’s grip on your arm brought you back to the present. “Keep quiet and smile,” he ordered, a haughty expression on his face as he led you through the place. You didn't want to judge all men named Chet, but you had pegged him as a douchebag the second he went in for his fitting and he was proving you right. You couldn't even enjoy that he was objectively handsome since his personality made him less attractive.

“I am smiling,” you said. Wrinkling your nose at the overwhelming mix of scents and expensive colognes and perfumes, you did your best to make your smile look natural. The servers looked like they were doing the same as they served everyone. It was strange how a room so enormous could make someone feel so small.

“Then keep smiling,” Chet ordered through his grin. “What you do or don’t do is a reflection of me.”

“I know,” you muttered. Because it was all about him and you were just his omega arm candy. You really should’ve demanded overtime pay from your boss, but that conversation wouldn’t have ended well.

“As it stands, perhaps I made the right choice by bringing you,” he said, nodding to a few older gentlemen. “I can smell their envy.”

You did notice a few more men looking your way. A few women as well, not hiding that they were whispering about you. Trying to hide your vulnerability, you held yourself the way you thought a goddess would. You also held yourself with pride since the dress you wore was your own design. A sleeveless black dress with a middle slit, it was bold and alluring. The glitter throughout the fabric made you shine like stars in the night sky. The finishing touch was the matching collar, a tasteful way to protect you from any alpha who even thought about marking you.

Reaching up instinctively to run a hand over your collar, you felt your heart ache. Your inner omega wanted a mark, but the thought of being tied to someone was somewhat terrifying. You respected omegas who wanted to go the traditional route by staying home and being submissive, but you didn’t want to be submissive outside of the bedroom. You wanted a partner who would view you as an equal.

Your false confidence didn’t last long when Chet’s grip on you tightened, your body immediately going stiff. You’d have to take a long shower and dry clean your dress just to get rid of his scent. “Loosen up,” he ordered.

“Maybe I’d loosen up if you weren’t digging your fingers in,” you whispered.

“You’re my date. It’s my right to touch you,” he sneered. He had no right. It didn't matter if he was an alpha and he was rich. The urge to slap him across his face was so strong your palm itched. “So, get the stick out of your ass.”

A shiver rolled down your spine when you heard a low growl come from another alpha. Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone looking directly at you. It probably had nothing to do with you because why would anyone care if an alpha was bossing you around?

Chet’s hold on you loosened nonetheless. “And just so we’re clear, you have no intention of sleeping with me?” he asked as an omega in a revealing dress sauntered by. Your date didn’t bother to hide how he was undressing her with his eyes.

“That’s right,” you said. You made it clear to your boss that sex wasn’t an option, and he was oddly on your side. Maybe he thought Chet could sway you if he tried hard enough. If he even thought of using some sort of alpha command on you, nothing would stop you from lashing out and making him sorry.

“Then you’ll have no problem finding your own ride home should I choose to leave with someone else,” he said.

“So, I can’t make you look bad, but you can leave with another omega?” you asked.

“You got it. You’re smarter than you look.” He tapped your nose with a condescending grin. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

The prick was pushing his luck. “Listen you-”

“Chet, my boy! Good to see you!” A man interrupted, uncaring that you were speaking.

“Shane,” Chet smiled. “Always a pleasure.”

The bulky alpha shamelessly looked you over, his scent almost making you choke on your next breath. “And who might this be?”

“Pretty, isn't she?” Chet cut in before you could answer, puffing his chest out. “Doesn't say much, but I’m not exactly interested in her conversational skills, am I?”

You bit your tongue when they chuckled. Be seen and not heard. It was insulting.

“Come join me, but leave the omega,” Shane said unapologetically, taking another look at your chest. What would happen if you threw a drink in his face? “As entertaining as she would be, we have business to discuss, and we don’t need the distraction.”

“Of course,” Chet smiled, turning you toward the bar as Shane walked away. “Since he doesn't want you around, why don't you take advantage of the free drinks until I get back?”

“I’m not-”

“And not that you’d have any extra cash to tip, but it’s taken care of,” he continues, your face hot at the assumption that you couldn't afford to tip the staff. “Just behave and try not to make a fool out of either of us, you got it? Wouldn’t want your boss to hear about it if you do.”

Biting back a retort, you freed yourself from his grip. There wasn’t enough liquor at this party to get you through the rest of this evening. “Don’t worry about me, alpha. Go have fun,” you said, your eyes burning as he walked away. A few heads turned your way when your scent soured. It wasn’t enough that you had to attend an event where you didn’t belong, but your date just had to rub salt in the open wound by reminding you of such. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered, making your way over to the bar to order a drink.

Plastering a smile back on your face when you got the bartender’s attention, you ordered a whiskey on the rocks. You wanted something that would go down smooth but leave a little burn. You also preferred opting to watch the bartender make a drink in front of you instead of grabbing a glass of already poured champagne. The drinks were likely fine, but better safe than sorry. And like hell would you accept a drink from your sorry excuse for a “date” if he offered you one. He was lucky you-

An intoxicating scent hit you out of nowhere, making you grip the bar as you inhaled. Plums, whiskey, sandalwood. The blended aromas had your mouth watering, and a whimper threatened to slip out. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Desire burned in your stomach. As quickly as the scent excited you, it seemed to wrap itself around you in a soothing embrace. How could a smell leave you hot and bothered and also feel like a hug?

No… It couldn’t be your mate.

You caught a small movement out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped breathing when you found a pair of blue eyes fixed on you that belonged to a devilishly handsome man. He leaned against the wall, his wool-blend black suit fitting his thick body like second skin. Streaks of gray lined his luscious brown hair and peppered his beard, too. He looked like the kind of alpha who would have omegas kneeling at his feet, and it frightened you how badly you wanted to get on your hands and knees and crawl toward him.

His. Mine.

Lifting his tumbler to his lips, he kept his eyes on you as he sipped the expensive liquor. You wanted to look away but couldn't as the air crackled between you. He had you under some sort of trance you couldn't snap yourself out of. As frightening as it was to have a scent hit you so strongly, a feeling like this hit you square in the chest, the thought of him staring at another omega that way nearly made you hiss because you didn't want anyone else on the receiving end of those blue eyes.

He smirked like he read your mind and pushed himself off the wall. You did whimper out loud when you realized just how large he was. Dominant, assertive, yet there was something almost playful in his smirk when he finally broke his gaze. You greedily inhaled with the hope of catching more of his scent when he strode toward the nearby balcony, smooth and fluid as a server quickly took the empty tumbler from his hand. The men at the gala were all posturing, but no one could match the confidence of that alpha.

So how were people not surrounding him, begging for a scrap of attention? Was he untouchable among those who deemed themselves untouchable? He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who chased after anyone. No, people went to him.

He wanted you to follow him, right?

Downing your drink in one gulp, your feet moved before you could stop yourself. “I don’t need this alpha,” you whispered, the words bitter in your mouth as you followed his path. If you were smart, you’d walk the other way and not look back. Yet the thought of never seeing him again made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to examine.

Does he know?

Studies over the years showed that not every bound pair was the same. Some couples felt the bond instantaneously like a firework exploding. Others felt it like a small burn that slowly consumed them over time. For a few, the spark took a long time to ignite. You couldn't ignore this burn if you tried.

You welcomed the slight chill in the air as you stepped onto the large balcony. It was lit up with sparkling lights, yet it didn’t take away from the stars that shone in the sky above. The alpha who caught your eye stood by the railing, alone, like he was looking over a kingdom. You felt foolish for going out there to bother him.

Steeling yourself with false confidence again, you walked over to stand beside him. You weren’t close enough to touch him, wanting to leave him a respectable amount of space. You could always use the excuse that you just needed some fresh air if he asked what you were doing.

Stealing a glance at him, you didn’t want to believe that you had a true connection with this man, that he could be your mate. No way would an omega like you be his match. Would he even want an omega like you? One with dreams to do more, be more?

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice thick like honey and the whiskey you drank. Of course, his voice would be a powerful weapon. But he wasn’t scenting you, or trying to tear your collar off, or doing anything to indicate that he felt the sort of spark you had. Maybe that was for the best.

“It is,” you sighed, looking out at the view. You couldn’t deny the beauty and how much easier it was to breathe since you weren’t surrounded by the suffocating bodies and scents. “It really is something.”

“I was talking about you.”

You whipped your head toward him so quickly you nearly hurt your neck. The flare of heat in his eyes hypnotized you again, but this time you didn’t want him to draw you in. A man of his stature, his power, he could chew you up, spit you out, and leave you a shell of yourself. But seeing him up close, his laugh lines, and the touch of softness in his gaze, you wanted to know all about him and the life he lived.

You were in so much trouble.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“I don't think I’ve seen you at a gala before. I would've remembered you,” he stated. You weren't sure what to say to that. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky if you’d like.”

You blinked a few times. “You’re James Barnes,” you whispered, not having to belong in the inner circle to know who he was.

James Buchanan Barnes. One of the wealthiest alphas in the city, his family came from money and it was no secret that Bucky, as he liked to go by, wasn’t bound to anyone. People assumed that he didn't want to share his wealth with anyone beyond his charitable donations, or that he was either extremely picky in choosing a mate. And here he was talking to you. This was the man you thought could be your mate.

You were in way over your head.

“I am,” he said, looking at you expectantly.

It took a moment, but your name tumbled from your lips as you shifted toward him. He inhaled when a breeze rolled in and you hoped your scent got to him the way his scent got to you. The way his eyes darkened, it had. Your inner omega wanted to purr with delight.

Time stood still when he took your hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure,” he whispered, his lips brushing your knuckles. “I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but…”

“But what?”

You held your breath when he turned your hand and ran his nose along your wrist with a small growl. It was bold, intimate, possessive, and you got impossibly wet from the action. Had Chet or another alpha done that, it would've been a different story. “You smell divine,” he whispered against your skin.

You whined before your inner hackles went up, making him pull his mouth away immediately. He at least had some level of respect and sensed the shift in your stance. “How many omegas have you said that and done that to?” you asked when you had no right to feel jealous.

He didn’t look put off by your question, and he didn’t let go of your hand either. “I’ve come across a few delectable scents before, but I don’t think I’ve ever described anyone as divine,” he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. An intense longing behind his eyes had your knees weak. “I haven’t smelled anyone like you.”

This alpha was telling the truth, but he wasn't a boy scout either. He knew how to fuck, you could tell, and he likely broke hearts without intending to. You didn’t want to be the next victim if a quick fuck was all he was looking for.

“I haven’t smelled anyone like you either,” you admitted, grudgingly pulling away. His heady scent made it hard to concentrate. And standing close to a man who wore a suit that cost more than half a year’s rent was another reminder that you were a girl playing dress up, nothing more. “I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

Bucky stopped you from turning away, his grip on your arms tender so you wouldn’t feel threatened. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t belong here, and I don’t expect you to understand that,” you replied.

It was bad enough to let your guard down by following him out there, and you couldn’t let him seduce you more than he already had. You were lucky the very presence of him didn't trigger your heat. And how would your story end? He was a rich alpha, and you were a struggling omega. Was happiness really in the cards?

Your eyes widened when you heard the rumble in his chest, his scent producing a soothing aura that wrapped around you. Your lip trembled slightly as the rumble faded. Bucky could’ve let you walk away, yet he was comforting you. It made you want to cry.

“I may understand better than you think,” he whispered. Did he? Did he feel alone in that crowd of people there? “But help me understand why you feel that way.”

You rapidly blinked to keep the tears at bay. What was there for him to understand? “Okay,” you whispered back. The fact that he wanted you to talk to him meant something. “For starters, that crowd is kind of… well, awful from the short time I observed and interacted with them. They think they’re better than everyone else because they have so much, but they have no right to look down on others.”

The people in the gala simply flaunted what they had without a second thought. Being there made you appreciate your friends and their genuine interactions more. They worked hard for everything they had. They wouldn’t have anything against people born with a silver spoon in their mouths if they showed a little humility.

Bucky's chuckle surprised you. “Money doesn’t equal class, and believe me when I say they aren’t worth taking up any space in your beautiful mind,” he said, giving you a small smile. “To be honest, I came out here to get away from them because, save a select few, they're fucking assholes.”

You found yourself smiling, too. No wonder he has been standing by himself. “Is that the only reason?” you asked curiously, reaching up to touch his perfect hair simply because you could.

He looked at you, a mixture of lust and something soft. Standing like this you felt like a couple. “I may have wanted you to follow me, and I’m glad you did,” he said, his tone calm and casual as butterflies filled your stomach. “You’re the first person I’ve considered approaching in a long time, but you looked a bit upset when you went to the bar. I didn’t think bothering you would win me any favors.”

You exhaled. Was he the alpha who growled when Chet gripped you too tightly? “I…” you shivered when another breeze rolled in.

He shrugged his jacket the moment he spotted you shivered. “May I?” he offered.

You hesitated. Bucky had a powerful scent, and how would it look to Chet if you wore another alpha’s jacket? Chet wasn’t your alpha, but he could run his mouth and get you in trouble with your boss. It didn’t matter that you wanted to quit one day. Today wasn’t that day because you financially weren’t ready. That was the excuse you made up in your head.

But your inner omega wanted Bucky’s scent to surround you and you replied in a small voice, “Yes, please.”

Bucky carefully placed the warm jacket around your shoulders. “I know the crowd bothered you for good reason, but who specifically upset you and how can I fix it?”

“My date,” you answered. You didn't have it in you to lie to him. It also wasn't up to him to fix it.

Bucky hummed, running his hands up and down your arms. It helped warm and relax you. “What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes landing on the collar around your neck. You wondered what he would do if your mating gland was exposed, and you had to push that thought away.

“His name is Chet and he’s discussing business with some alpha.” The change in his scent was subtle. He seemed too confident to be jealous, but he didn’t seem pleased either at the thought of you being with someone else. “They were extremely condescending, and I couldn’t exactly throw a drink in their faces or put them in their place since I’m just an omega.”

Bucky snarled quietly, his eyes blazing. “You’re not just an omega,” he said. He was upset on your behalf. Was he not like other older alphas who wanted omegas to be subservient? “Maybe I should have a chat with them.”

You purred before you could stop yourself. Bucky offering to stand up for you felt better than you wanted to admit. “You don't have to do that,” you said, running your fingers through his hair again. You wanted to soothe him the way he soothed you. “Besides, I’m not really on a date with Chet. He just wanted me to be eye candy for the night.”

Bucky almost snarled again, but raised an eyebrow instead. “And you agreed to that? I have the feeling you aren’t the arm candy type.”

You giggled. He was right about that. “Didn’t really have a choice thanks to my boss,” you told him.

“Your boss? What exactly do you do for work?” he asked carefully.

He asked a lot of questions, but you didn't mind since he seemed genuinely interested. Maybe he assumed you were an escort. “I'm a designer,” you answered, smiling to yourself. “At least, I want to be. I’m just an assistant at the moment.”

“Let me guess. Your boss is an alpha, makes you do the grunt work, and takes the credit?” he mused, humming when you solemnly nodded. “And he convinced you to come here tonight because Chet is a client?”

“Something like that. It was either that or I get fired,” you laughed bitterly. “And if he fired me I’d get blacklisted, then I’d have no job, no money at all, and I’d lose my tiny apartment and…”

His nose wrinkled when you trailed off. You were so embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop your scent from souring. Talking to one of the richest alphas ever about your problems wasn’t something you thought you’d experience tonight, but that soothing rumble and smell came out again to help you breathe easier.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he said with a touch of firmness so you knew he didn’t pity you. You could take a lot of things, but not pity.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, smoothing out some of the fabric on your dress and not wanting to dwell on the topic. “I actually made this,” you told him. It was silly, but you specifically wanted to hear something nice from Bucky to make you feel better, which was bad. You shouldn’t want compliments from him or want him period.

He parted his jacket so he could look you over. Unlike Shane leering at you earlier, Bucky seemed to take in the details of your design with a careful eye. “You made this? It’s stunning,” he said with pride that rivaled yours. You lost your breath when he ran the back of his finger along your torso, heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. “Like you.”

Your mind raced, the heavy weight of his gaze pinning you in place. The longer you stood there, the more you wanted him. You had to snap out of it. “You’re dangerous,” you whispered, shaking your head as his hand fell away. “I should go inside.”

He stepped back, his eyes searching yours. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you replied honestly. Some of his actions were forward, but he wasn’t pushy. He was the sort of predator who probably gently played with his food before he sank his teeth in, yet you weren’t completely afraid of the bite. “Though I’m wondering why you don’t have a date tonight. Keeping your options open?”

Maybe he really did want to live the bachelor life.

The corner of his lip tugged when you narrowed your eyes. “I come to these things to make a short appearance. That’s all,” he explained. Even the wealthy had obligations. “Unlike some alphas my age, I’m not interested in having a date for the sole purpose of eye candy. And because most of the people here are fucking assholes, I don’t usually find anyone to take home.”

“So, you aren’t interested in taking me home?” you tried to tease. If he said no, you could lick your wounds later since you’d likely never see him again. If he said yes, you… Well, you didn’t know what you’d do.

He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close enough that you felt just how big he was. A shudder wracked your body, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you. “I’m very interested in taking you home,” he breathed.

You lifted your eyes to him, his desire matching yours. “I-”

A young giggling couple stumbled out to the balcony reeking of booze. They took a few steps forward and Bucky moved you out of the way before they could crash into you. The ferocious growl he let out made the laughter cease, but it had you purring like a bitch in heat. “Leave,” he ordered, keeping his arms tight around you. The underlying threat in that single word had the couple rushing back inside, but they had effectively ruined the moment.

“I think that alpha almost pissed his pants,” you teased to cut through the tension.

“He’s lucky he didn’t tumble over the railing,” he said, loosening his hold on you and taking in your expression. You felt naked under his stare. “You aren’t ready to leave with me just yet.”

“I’m still here with a ‘date’,” you reminded him to cover up any feelings or doubts in your mind.

Other than Bucky being wealthy, powerful, and smelling like a sinful kind of heaven, you didn’t fully know him. Something within you felt like you did, but going home with him for the night… What if you disappointed him? What if he decided he didn't want you?

He gave nothing away as he stared at you while you felt like your eyes told him everything. It wasn’t fair how in control he looked when you were close to spiraling. “Let’s go sit inside,” he suggested, finally cracking a smile when your face scrunched up. “No one will bother us, and I’d like to keep talking to you even if you don’t decide to leave with me.”

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to sit with you for a few minutes,” you said, especially if he would keep others away from you.

His hand on your hip felt like it belonged there as he guided you back inside. The scents and mindless chatter didn’t bother you as much now, likely because all you could really smell and concentrate on was Bucky. Did his kisses taste like plums or whiskey? Both?

He brought to a corner near the bar, far enough away from the mingling crowd that you still felt a bit of privacy. You kept his jacket around you though the room was considerably warmer than it was outside, not quite ready to give it back to him. “Drink?” he asked, angling his chair so that his knees were touching yours. There was no table in front of you. Anyone looking would see how close you were.

“No, thanks,” you said. You already downed a glass of whiskey and your head was spinning thanks to him.

You felt his gaze on you for a full minute before he spoke again. “Your ‘date’ isn’t the reason you’re hesitating to leave,” he said, scratching along his beard. You bet it would feel wonderful between your thighs. “Is it me? Am I too old for you?”

You had to laugh. “You’re a gorgeous silver fox, so that isn’t the problem,” you said. Beneath the suit you knew he was in great shape, too.

He smiled a gorgeous smile, appreciating the compliment. “So it isn't my age. Do you think I won’t treat you well?”

“I know you’ll treat me well,” you answered, avoiding his gaze. You knew that in your core. “But I’m afraid of what happens in the morning.”

He forced your gaze back to him with a large hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek.

Everything.

“I’m afraid if I get a taste of you it won’t be enough for one night,” you said, your heart pounding as he stared into your eyes. Like he was staring deep into your soul. “And it isn’t fair that you have that kind of power over me.”

He looked almost impressed with your answer. “I appreciate your honesty,” he praised, his thumb sweeping over your lips this time. “And it won't be enough. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t let you go.”

It wasn’t a matter of if with him, but when. “You couldn't possibly want me for more than one night,” you said. He knew you were just a struggling designer’s assistant and didn’t run with this crowd. You lived in different worlds.

“I’m going to want you every night.” He tilted his head when you shifted in your seat. “You feel it, don't you?”

You feigned innocence when he held your gaze, your heart racing. God, he had felt it. Was it an explosion, a slow burn, or something else? “Feel what?”

Bucky smirked, not at all fooled. “That you’re my-”

“Don’t say it,” you begged. Speaking the word would make it real and it wasn't something he could take back. “Because if you don’t want that or me, we can just go our separate ways and ignore it.”

He hadn’t marked you, and you hadn’t claimed him either. You didn’t know what it would feel like to have his knot, so you couldn’t possibly miss it. And neither of you would have to depend on the other. You could walk away with as minimal damage as possible, and you’d find a way to remain whole. So would he.

The low growl Bucky emitted made the nearby guests move away, but you weren’t afraid. “Ignore it? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. I would've fucked you right out there on the balcony if that couple hadn't interrupted us,” he said, your body hot and needy at the thought of him fucking you while you looked out at the view. “I’m lucky finally finding you didn’t send me into a rut.”

You thought the same about your heat. “Bucky-”

“Our scents call to each other. We call to each other,” he said, placing his hand on your chest. How did your heart feel fuller from his touch? “Tell me you didn't feel a connection when you caught my scent and looked at me.”

“I felt something,” you admitted.

“And it compelled you enough to follow me outside, to open up to me,” he said. You couldn't deny that. “You may say you don’t belong here, but something inside you says you belong with me.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? Scare you?” you asked. Having mates could be wonderful, but what if he wanted that pull with someone who wasn’t you?

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. There wasn't even a whiff of fear, likely because he had nothing to lose. “In fact, I think you should quit your job and move in with me.

You looked at him like he suddenly grew another head. “Quit my job and move in with you?”

“Yes. Your boss doesn't deserve to have you as an assistant, and you wouldn't have to pay rent if you stayed at my place.”

You didn’t attempt to laugh off his request since he was completely serious. “You realize that sounds insane, right?” you added. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary though. Some couples who took their time building their bond still moved in right away.

“Insane would’ve been marking you the moment I saw you and dragging you home the way some alphas do,” he said.

You bristled. “It’s too soon for you to mark me,” you said, even as your mating bond throbbed.

“Don’t worry. I won't mark you tonight,” he assured you. Hurt crept up for a split second before he ran a finger along your collar. You visibly trembled and realized that he did want to mark you. He just wasn’t doing so tonight out of respect for you. “But you can still be mine in every other way until that day comes.”

You opened your mouth to argue. He hadn’t marked you, but you still felt owned. “You really think people want you with an omega outside of your tax bracket?”

“You think I give a fuck what they think?” His handsome face twisted in a scowl as he looked around. “And if they even think about insulting you, I’ll ruin them. It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t that simple,” you said.

“Why not? I know you're meant to be mine and you know it, too.” He touched your collar again, your mating bond throbbing almost to the point of pain. “You won’t need to worry about money or a roof over your head because I’ll give it to you. And a space to design your own clothes and make your dream come true.”

It sounded too good to be true, and nothing in this world was free. “I have my rent. If I break my lease-”

“I’ll pay what you owe.”

Your rent was probably pocket change to him. At least you didn’t have a roommate you’d have to worry about. It was always too risky to rely on someone else to help with bills and utilities. “And all that in exchange for what? Being your whore?”

He snarled, and you were delighted to hear that sound. “Trust me, doll, you may want me to fuck you like a whore, but I’ll treat you like a goddess. Like my equal,” he replied, his promise touching something deep inside you and drowning out most of your fear.

You just wished the remaining would fade away.

“I want us to be equals, but do you realize that you’d have all the power until I get my designs off the ground, right? I’d have to rely on your money, your roof over my head,” you said, swallowing the small lump in your throat. Did he realize what he was asking of you? To push aside the small amount of pride and independence you had? “I’ve done fine on my own and to have to depend on you is something else altogether.”

You hoped he at the very least realized how vulnerable you were right now by opening up more.

He looked vulnerable, too, as he moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to have to depend on me, but with me you wouldn't have to do this on your own. My finances don’t mean I have power. You’d have power, too,” he said. You wanted to believe you would. “In fact, I think you’re the only person in this entire city who could bring me to my knees. That’s power.”

You smiled a little. Could you really bring him to his knees? “As flattered as I am that you want to take care of me, do I have to decide tonight?” you asked. He was saying all the right things, and it was tempting, but there was so much to figure out beyond the living arrangements.

“We can discuss it more tomorrow if you’d like,” he said, looking around as you let out a breath. He had no doubt in his mind that you would spend the night. “Have you seen your date?”

You looked around, too, not at all worried when you spotted him. A complete contrast to how you felt at the beginning of the evening. “He’s…” You gestured to the bar where Chet was flirting with the loosely dressed omega from earlier and staring right down the front of her dress.

Bucky growled and swept his eyes over you, no doubt catching how you pressed your thighs together from the sound. A growl really shouldn't be that sexy. “Not a very faithful alpha, is he?”

“Well, he isn't my alpha, remember?” you pointed out. Someone like Chet would never be. “My boss only ‘suggested’ that I go with him tonight, and I made it clear I wasn't going to sleep with him.”

There was another hint of a growl before he smiled. “Wait right here. I’m just going to tell the young pup that you’re going home with me.”

You gripped his arm as he tried to stand. “Easy, old man. I didn't say I was going home with you,” you teased, knowing full well you were in fact leaving with him.

“Old man?” he smiled.

You shrugged. “You called me ‘doll’, which sounds like something an old man would say.”

“I think an old man is exactly what you need.” His eyes flashed with a deliciously dark promise that he was right and you’d enjoy every single inch of what he’d give you. “And you didn’t explicitly say you'd go with me, but we both know I’ve swayed you to go to my place.”

“You alphas are so cocky.” You refrained from rolling your eyes since he was right in this instance. “But maybe I should just stay here a bit longer and make you work for it since you want me so badly.”

He chuckled. “You’d rather stay here? Fine by me,” he said, leaning in close. “I’ll just slide my hand up your dress here and now and feel just how wet you are for me. I doubt anyone would notice if I made you come on my fingers. They’re too caught up in themselves.”

Your eyes closed when he touched your thigh. “You think I'm wet for you?”

“I know you are. I can smell it. Can practically taste it. You’ll let me taste you, won't you?” he purred, and you could only tremble as his hand moved higher, your legs parting to give him more access. “In fact, why don't I drag your ‘date’ over and let him watch while I lay you out and feast on your cunt? Show him what you'll never give him a taste of?”

You weren't sure if the pool of arousal was from the thought of Bucky eating you like a starved man, making that sad excuse for an alpha watch while he got you off, or both. You wondered what it would be like to taste yourself on his lips. “And why would you let him see what I look like when I come?”

He seemed to consider your question. “That’s a good point. He shouldn't see how you look when you come.” Bringing his hand to your face, your breath hitched when he caressed your cheek with such care. “But you’ll never have to hide that beautiful expression from me.”

“Hey!”

You pulled away from Bucky in time to see Chet storm over. “Shit,” you whispered when he furiously looked between you and Bucky. You were shocked smoke didn't come out of his ears.

“What the hell are you doing? I said enjoy the free booze, and do not embarrass me. You can't even follow a simple instruction,” he snapped. You refused to bare your neck when he showed his teeth. He wasn’t going to embarrass you either. “The only reason you can even step foot in this place is because of me. You fucking sl-”

Bucky was out of his seat before you could blink, his hand wrapped tight around Chet’s throat and cutting off the remainder of his insult. A few patrons gasped and stopped to watch as Chet clawed at Bucky's hand, but no one stepped in to help. The anger that poured off your alpha was enough to deter anyone from getting involved. And you were loving every second of it.

“She’s my mate,” Bucky said through his teeth, making Chet’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Biology may say you’re an alpha, but you’re nothing. And I’m tempted to crush your windpipe for insulting her.” He squeezed harder and smirked when Chet wheezed. “When her boss asks how the gala went, you’re going to sing her praises. If you don't, I’ll hunt you down and make sure you can never knot anyone ever again. And that’s just the start of what I'll do to you.”

It was almost humiliating how turned on you were by Bucky's dominant display. You thought you’d be an omega who wouldn’t want an alpha acting like, well, an alpha, yet his defense of you meant a lot. “Bucky.” You stood up and smiled when he looked at you, his anger shifting to something softer. “You can let him go.”

Chet fell to the ground and coughed once Bucky released him. Your alpha bared his teeth with a snarl and Chet showed his throat like an obedient dog. It was clear who the top alpha was.

“Apologize,” Bucky commanded. Not only did Chet cough out an apology while avoiding your gaze, a few others said “sorry” as well. That was how powerful this man was. And you wanted him more than anything.

“Thanks for the free booze, Chet. And don't worry about me getting a ride home. I think you should worry if that omega still wants you after your… performance,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s. “Have a great night.”

There was no need to fake your confidence as you and Bucky walked out together. It didn't matter at the moment what they thought of you. All you could think about was how Bucky defended you, and how he called you his mate. It was out in the open. He…

Oh, God.

“Thank you for defending me, but you do realize you just told everyone that I’m your mate, right?” you whispered. That gossip would spread before the night was over.

“Is that what I did?” he asked, smirking when you hissed and glared. “And you don’t need to thank me. He had it coming.”

The smirk was still on his handsome face as the valet brought his car around. What the hell were people going to say? He didn’t care what they thought and neither should you.

“Listen, Bucky, just because you…”

Bucky held your face in his hands, leaning in so close you felt his breath against your lips. His mouth barely grazed yours, carefully teasing you with the promise of what was to come. “Just because I what?” he rasped, and you swear you felt more slick stain your already ruined panties.

“You better get me off before we get to your place,” you said instead of finishing your original statement because you truthfully forgot all about it when his lips touched yours.

Your insides tinged with more heat and desire when he nipped your bottom lip. “You better say my name when I get you off.”

“Should I say Bucky or James?” you smirked.

“Bucky. Reserve the name James for when you’re upset or extremely serious,” he winked, thanking the valet before helping you into his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice.

“And you won’t mark me tonight?” you asked once he got up, touching the back of your collar to make sure it was still secure.

“We still have a lot to figure out before I mark you,” he said, leaning over as you sighed in relief. “But before we go…”

His mouth landed on yours, both strong and soft as he took possession of yours. The entire gala could've gone up in flames and you wouldn't have noticed since all you felt was him. You tasted his hunger when his tongue plunged inside, and there was a hint of desperation, too. He was starving for you and you moaned, deepening the kiss to show that you were just as eager.

You panted when he broke the kiss. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” you breathed, your eyes once again giving everything away.

His nose bumped yours affectionately as he dragged his lips to your forehead. You didn't expect such a fond gesture from him, and you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't blurt out how nice a kiss to the forehead felt. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss against your skin.

Your heart felt full, and your inner omega wanted to shout with joy. “Take me home then.”

Bucky sped off a moment later, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Your core ached as you looked at him, giving you a chance to once again take in his profile. The saying of aging like fine wine probably rang true for him. You imagined he was always good looking, but he was both rough and refined thanks to his age. People who said perfection didn’t exist clearly never saw him before.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I do, but you know that,” you answered, his jaw clenching when you pulled your dress up to reveal your legs. “And didn’t you promise to get me off before we got to your place?”

The sexual tension that had been building up spiked, and you sensed his need to claim you in some capacity was rising to the surface. “Give me your panties,” he ordered, giving you a sharp look. “Now.”

“You’re bossy,” you smiled, pushing your dress higher. He swore under his breath when you gripped your underwear and slid it off, your slick practically dripping from the flimsy fabric. No one ever got you that wet before. “But I kind of like it.”

He chuckled, licking his lips. “You like it because it’s me,” he pointed out, snatching the underwear out of your hand once it was within reach. You watched with a whine as he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled. “Fuck…” he growled, bringing the fabric to the tent growing in his pants next and rubbing all over it in a filthy display. Watching him ruin his pants with the scent and slick of your pussy had you soaking the seat beneath you. “Spread your legs and show me that pretty cunt.”

You trembled when he took his eyes off the road. Pulling your dress over your hips, you obediently spread your legs and let him get a good look at what would soon belong to him. “You like what you see?”

“Just wait until I tie you to my bed and get a real look before I fuck you. It’ll be a shame to wreck something so pretty, but you’ll thank me for it,” he replied, looking back at the road as he sped up. Oh, you’d thank him over and over. “Touch yourself, but don’t put your fingers inside.”

Bringing your hand between your legs, you gasped at how sensitive you were. It was like you were in heat, but fully aware of your surroundings. “Like this?” you asked, moving your fingers along your folds.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his gaze darting between you and the road. You hoped one day he’d fuck your throat while he drove. “Now give me your hand.”

You presented your glistening fingers to him, giving him the opportunity to grip your wrist and suck the wet digits into his mouth. You felt his mouth water from your taste, the groan of arousal in his throat making you shake. He didn’t stop until he licked your fingers clean. “You taste just as divine as you smell,” he said, releasing your hand and reaching over to cup your mound. “And I need more.”

“I need more, too,” you moaned, his palm rubbing your clit and building that ecstasy within you. He teased your dripping hole with another finger, but didn’t push inside yet. You arched your hips, trying to get him to breach you. “Please.”

“That’s a good girl saying please,” he praised, finally pushing a thick finger inside. You clenched around him so tight, your body wanting more. “Fuck, you’re tight. And wet. Made just for me. Imagine how good you’ll feel once you’re stretched around my cock.”

“Want your cock,” you moaned, opening your legs wider. “Want your big cock inside me.”

“Yeah, you do. You want my big, bare cock in your soaked cunt,” he said, pushing another finger in, your slick coating them. You didn’t let anyone fuck you bare before, but you’d let him. “You want my knot, too.”

You moaned, an image of you on your hands and knees flashing in your mind, Bucky’s strong hands pulling you back to meet every thrust until he locked your bodies in place. You could practically feel his teeth sinking into your neck to fully seal your fate. Or would he make love to you, linking your fingers together and kissing you with care as he tenderly pushed his knot in? It didn’t matter. He’d give you everything, and you wanted it all.

“Are you hard just thinking of fucking of me raw?” you moaned, the need to rip the top of your dress open to reveal your breasts strong. No… If your dress was going to get torn to shreds, he could do that himself. “Coming so deep inside me you’ll drip out of me days later?”

The next growl he let out was inhuman, his fingers curling until you cried out. “My good little omega has a dirty mouth on her,” he smirked.

“I do have a dirty mouth. You should fuck it sometime,” you smiled sweetly before your mouth fell open, his expert fingers fucking you deep. Talking dirty to him helped stamp down your emotions a bit, but they were threatening to surface the more he touched you. “Bucky.”

“That’s it. Say my name. Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded. Your back arched, gripping the leather seat until your hand ached. Your body certainly knew who owned you. “Tell me who’s going to take care of you.”

You bit your lip to hold back your whimper, your heart pounding out of control. No one took care of you. No one wanted to until tonight, and you hadn’t wanted that either.

He stopped moving his fingers, keeping perfectly still as you hissed in frustration. Was he really going to build you up and not let you finish? “Tell me,” he demanded again, gentler this time.

Your eyes burned, but you swallowed your pride. Again. “You, Bucky,” you whispered, trusting that he’d be an alpha of his word. “You'll take care of me.”

He cooed when you whimpered, slipping a third finger in and moving them again. “That’s my girl. My good omega. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say,” he praised, so proud of you. Part of you was proud of yourself, too. “Do you need to come?”

“Yes!” you cried out, desperately trying to ride his fingers as the pressure grew. You were so close. Just a little more…

“Then do it. Get that slick all over my hand and seat,” he said, pushing against your bundle of nerves once more as your body locked up. “And say. My. Name.”

Waves of pleasure rolled through you, colors blurring your vision as you cried his name. Your eyes rolled back as the squelching sound of your cunt filled the car, his fingers helping you ride it out. You were drowning, unable to breathe until you broke through the haze. You felt ruined already by his fingers. Oh, his cock was going to destroy you.

“Fuck, that’s it. Give it to me. That’s my good girl. Can’t wait to feel that all over my cock.”

He only removed his fingers when you whined and licked your essence away with a low moan. The beautiful bastard still looked so put together, and hadn’t swerved once while he drove. “Holy shit,” you exhaled, your walls still fluttering. The orgasm took the edge off while leaving you wanting more. “Did I… soak your hand?”

“You did,” he confirmed, your face hot. “Fuck, I’m going to need an entire weekend to eat your sweet cunt just to start,” he said, flashing you a smile. “And you make very pretty sounds when you come.”

You managed a smile as you slumped in the seat, your dress still bunched around your waist. “What do you sound like when you come?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’ll find out,” he promised.

You trembled again when he put his hand back on your thigh, your hand immediately covering his. You needed his touch to ground you, but didn’t want to say so. “I just realized something,” you said once you fully caught your breath.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“If you’re my mate but you haven’t marked me yet, and you plan to pay for… well, everything for me for the time being,” you said, a laugh bubbling up when you saw that your window was fogged up. You drew a little smiley face, making you laugh more before you glanced at him. “You’re kind of like my sugar daddy.”

The look on his face before he laughed made him look younger, the sound affectionate and happy. How many managed to make him laugh like that? “Does that mean you’re going to call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Don’t push it, old man,” you giggled. Though if anyone could sway you, it would be him. “Why don’t we just stick with ‘alpha’ for now?”

“That and Bucky,” he suggested, turning his hand so your palm rested against his. “I like hearing you say my name, doll,” he added in a whisper.

“I like saying your name, Bucky,” you said, your brows furrowing. “But who came up with that nickname?”

He chuckled again, your skin tingling when he lifted your hand to kiss it. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes, I do,” you said.

He stole a glance at you. Through the heavy scent of your orgasm, you detected joy seeping from him. It made you feel happy, too. “Okay,” he smiled, running his thumb along your hand. “I got the nickname a long time ago…”

You twisted more in your seat to face him as you listened, lost in his voice and smile. There was so much you had to learn about your alpha. His likes and dislikes. What he would be like before, during, and after his ruts. He had a lot to learn about you, too. You wouldn’t give up on your dream of becoming a designer, and accepting his help may not be such a bad thing.

And maybe accepting the fact that you had a mate to depend on wouldn’t be such a bad thing either.

So, what do we think so far? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

1K notes · View notes

elizabethemerald · 2 days ago

Text

Bruce woke up with the sound of two other people breathing next to him. He kept himself still and his breathing even as he tried to analyze his situation. He was definitely between two other warm bodies, both with their arms wrapped tightly around him.

While he wasn't wholly unfamiliar with a menage a trois from his wild playboy days prior to adopting Dick, his nights were never actually as wild as the paparazzi liked to pretend, and it had been a long time since he was willing to risk the safety of his kids by bringing multiple partners to his bed.

"It's ok, baby, we've got you." A deep voice murmured in his ear as the person to his left pulled him closer, then the arms across his chest tensed. "Wait, you're not Danny? Sam, wake up."

The person to his right, Sam apparently, snorted as she roused, and sat up a little to look him over. Bruce risked opening his eyes, he was trapped between two people, tangled in sheets and in a completely unknown situation, even with all his training this would be a bad situation if he had to fight his way out.

"He looks like Danny, Tucker, is he overshadowed?" Sam asked.

Sam was pale, with a black faux-hawk and purple eyes. She was completely naked and wasn't shy about her body. Tucker had dark skin and black hair. He had his hair styled in long dreads with multiple golden charms clasped to the locks. Bruce watched as his eyes flashed gold for a second before a sensation like sand gently pouring over his skin swept across his body.

"Oh, body swap. Looks like this soul is from a different dimension." Tucker said, declaring such an absurd situation with such certainty that Bruce could only guess that they had experienced something like this before. "Is your name still Danny in your universe?"

"My name is Bruce, Bruce Wayne." Bruce said, finally speaking and sitting up.

"Oh! Danny's alternate is rich!" Sam said with a cheer as she stood up and walked over to the closet. "Listen to that posh diction."

Bruce averted his eyes from his alternate's partner and looked ready to deny it when Tucker patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Bruce. Sam knows rich people. Her parents were millionaires." He whispered the last like it was a secret. "We've handled this sort of thing before, so we'll get you all sorted out and back in your proper body in no time."

Bruce jumped as an electrical charged arced across his body, he turned, ready to defend himself and he found Sam once more standing next to him, a small taser in her hand. Some how he hadn't even heard her approach.

"Sorry about that, our Danny's got some powers that we don't want you to hurt yourself with. That just disables them for a few hours." She had a sharp grin and still hadn't put on any clothes.

"You keep something to disable your partner in your closet?" Bruce couldn't help the question. Sam's smile grew even sharper, bordering on inhuman at the question.

"Of course! How else am I supposed to have him bound and begging before me?"

Danny had a sense when something strange was going on. It wasn't his ghost sense, or even from his accident. If anything it was a family trait. Jack and Maddie used it to find ghosts and haunted locations long before their tech could actually pick up on ecto, Jazz used to suss out when Danny had lied to her about eating his vegetables, and Danny used it whenever he had to work with the non ghostly members of the Infinite Realms. There was just this tingling in the back of his mind that told him that everything was not as it seemed.

So when he walked into the dinning room to find it full of Bruce Wayne's kids who all looked at him with concern then pretended everything was fine, that sense started going off. As they all began clearly speaking in different coded phrases while subtly (though not subtly enough) checking in on him, the sense grew even stronger.

Finally Danny set his fork down after eating some of the delicious breakfast that Alfred had prepared for him and looked around the room. All of Bruce's kids tensed and looked like they were trying to pretend that they weren't readying for a fight. He let himself smile at all of them.

"So it's clear this alternate gets up to some kind of weirdness." Danny said, his smile widening as the others tried to parse his words. "Now I don't need to know everything, its not my business, but I would like you all to know, that I am an alternate version of your father from a different dimension and I've dealt with some weirdness myself. I'm certain my partners are already working on getting everybody back in their proper bodies."

It was clear the others hadn't expected him to just come out and admit that he was body swapped, but just as clear that they had all figured out he wasn't their father. He wondered what gave him away, but let it go as he picked his fork back up and continued eating for a few more bites. When the silent conversations that were happening across the table started to grow panicked he spoke up again.

"Is there some where you would like me to wait where there aren't any secrets until my partners get this situation sorted? You are of course more than welcome to continue to observe me for any suspicious behavior, though I would like to get to know my alternate's children if you would allow me."

Danny smiled as the heated (yet silent) debate once more sprung into existence. He stood and allowed Alfred to lead him to a sitting room with a large TV. He relaxed into one of the stupidly comfortable couches rich people could afford. He had wanted to take a vacation for a while, might as well make the most of the time he had.

Super short dp x dc idea

Danny is an Alternative Universe version of bruce Wayne. They get switched through some hijinks and Danny is trying to be Bruce-like and just trying to act like a Good Dad to these children his alternate self has amassed (holy shit). Like, He's doing his best to attend school plays and parent-teachers conferences (because Alfred still reminds Bruce of all of them even if he says he can't make it) and is doing no batman stuff (because Danny is unaware there is even such thing as batman stuff).

Meanwhile, the children are 100% sure Bruce is a) possessed b) concussed c) hypnotized d) any and all of the above.

#writing emerald #dp x dc #danny fenton #bruce wayne #body swap #i love body swaps #there should be more body swap fics #bruce is so awkward #even during his playboy days he wasn't actually that attached to most of his partners #and while he's kinkier than a knotted string he's out of practice #sam would be willing to walk around wearing nothing but leaves like poison ivy if it weren't for the laws against public nudity #tucker's magic from egypt allows him to sense souls #he thought danny was having a nightmare (which is sadly very common) at first before he realized he couldn't sense danny's soul #bruce isn't all that surprised about them having the power remover in the bedroom #lois lane has asked him to make something similar for the same reason #danny's just watching these paranoid kids try and hide bat secrets from an unknown in their home and remembering his own teen vigilante day #he's going to make it easy on them #and he's also going to get in all the family time he can

2K notes · View notes

amourquinn · 2 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐃𝐑 ; quinn hughes ( drabble ) 𝟏𝟖+

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 622

genre : fluff, smut long distance relationship warnings : phone sex, cuss words

summary : separated by distance, you and quinn share an intimate charged phone call, expressing your longing for each other

「 author’s note 」 this is my first time writing smut im in heat Help

you lay in bed, the soft sheets cool against your heated skin, the glow of your phone screen illuminating your face in the dim light of your bedroom. quinn was propped against his headboard, shirtless, his hair tousled from his restless hands running through it. his eyes were dark, his expression unreadable as he watched you.

“i can’t stop thinking about you,” quinn murmured, his voice rough, thick with something you knew all too well.

you swallowed, shifting against the pillows. “yeah?”

he nodded. “every night. i hate sleeping without you.”

your lips parted, your pulse quickening. “me too, baby.”

quinn exhaled sharply, his gaze dragging over the screen, taking you in. the strap of your satin camisole had slipped off your shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of your collarbone. your hair was a little messy from tossing and turning, your lips slightly swollen from biting them.

“you look so fucking good right now,” he muttered, his voice lower now. “wish i could touch you.”

you let out a soft breath, warmth curling in your stomach. “tell me how you’d touch me.”

quinn’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with heat. “you sure, sweetness?”

you nodded, fingers grazing your stomach, teasing yourself with the anticipation of what was to come. “yeah.”

quinn let out a slow exhale. “i’d start by kissing you, real slow,” he murmured. “dragging my lips down your neck, sucking just enough to make you whimper for me.”

you swallowed hard, your thighs pressing together. “you know i would.”

he smirked, his voice dropping lower. “then i’d take my time undressing you. i’d lay you down and run my hands all over that pretty body of yours, make you shiver.”

a soft whimper escaped your lips, and quinn groaned in response.

“are you touching yourself, baby?” he asked, his voice thick.

you bit your lip, letting your fingers dip beneath the covers. “mhm.”

quinn let out a low, needy sound. “fuck. let me see you.”

you hesitated for half a second before tilting the phone slightly, just enough for him to see the way your fingers traced slow, teasing patterns over your skin. quinn’s breath hitched, his grip on the phone tightening.

“y/n…” his voice was strained.

“show me, too,” you whispered.

quinn adjusted his phone just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the way his hand moved over his stomach, lower, his muscles tensing beneath his touch.

the tension crackled between you, your breaths coming heavier, softer moans spilling into the quiet night as you guided each other through the distance. quinn’s voice was raw, rough, laced with need as he whispered exactly what he would be doing if he were there, how good he’d make you feel.

your pleasure built with every word, every sound he made, until the heat inside you became unbearable. “quinn,” you whimpered, teetering on the edge.

“let go, sweetness,” he murmured. “come for me.”

your body arched, waves of pleasure crashing over you, and you barely registered quinn groaning your name as he followed right after.

the only sound left between you was your uneven breathing.

after a moment, quinn chuckled, running a hand through his damp curls. “i think i need a flight first thing in the morning.”

you let out a breathless laugh. “you say that every time.”

“yeah, well,” he smirked, “one of these times, i’m not gonna be joking.”

you smiled, eyes heavy with exhaustion but heart full. “i hope not.”

quinn’s expression softened, his voice turning gentle. “go to sleep, baby. i’ll stay on the phone.”

“promise?” you murmured, already drifting.

“always, sweetness.”

and with that, you fell asleep to the sound of quinn’s breathing, feeling closer to him than ever.

#[ 📁 ] drabble #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fluff #nhl hockey #vancouver canucks

215 notes · View notes

dulcescorderitas · 3 days ago

Text

after hunt relaxation

parings: samwinchester x reader

warning: thigh grinding

the motel room is dim, the single bedside lamp casting warm, flickering light against peeling wallpaper. the hunt had been brutal—nasty werewolf pack that took too long to track, too much blood, too many close calls. your body hums with exhaustion, tension wound tight in your muscles, your nerves still frayed even after the hunt ended. and sam sees it. he always does.

he's sitting on the edge of the bed, broad thighs spread slightly, his jeans tight against thick muscle. his hair is still damp from the shower, messy against his forehead, and his expression soft but full of intent. his hands find your hips as you stand between his legs, fingers warm and firm as they press into you. “c’mere,” he murmurs, voice thick with something deeper than concern.

he tugs you forward, guides you to straddle his thigh, and your breath catches. he always knows what you need before you do. the ache between your legs has been festering all night, and now, with the warmth of him beneath you, it sharpens into something unbearable.

his hands move, skimming under your shirt, fingertips teasing against your ribs as he eases the fabric up and over your head, leaving you bare from the waist up. his eyes darken as he takes you in, but there’s no rush in him, just that quiet, steady control that makes your stomach twist with need.

his hands move to the waistband of your pants next, and you lift your hips instinctively, letting him work them down, dragging your underwear with them—until he pauses, eyes catching on the lace. a slow, knowing smirk curves his lips. “these are new,” he murmurs, fingertips tracing the delicate fabric stretched over your hips.

heat floods your cheeks. “sam—”

“shh,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hipbone. “just appreciating how damn good you look.”

but his hands are already gripping your waist, dragging you back down so your soaked lace-covered core grinds against the firm muscle of his thigh. the friction is instant, searing, and you let out a sharp, broken breath, fingers curling into his shoulders for balance.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, watching you like he wants to devour you. his hands guide your movements, rocking you forward, pressing you down, dragging that desperate little sound from your throat again. his lips ghost over your jaw, then your throat, slow, teasing, before capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s all heat and hunger.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers, his breath hot against your lips. “grinding all over me, getting yourself all worked up.”

his fingers slip between your legs, rubbing over the soaked lace, pressing just right, and your hips jerk against him, chasing the pressure. he swallows your moans, drinks them down like they fuel him, one hand gripping your hip tighter as the other works you open with slow, lazy circles.

“been wanting you like this all damn night,” he mutters against your lips, voice wrecked, the tension in his own body betraying just how much he needs this, too. “such a good girl, rubbing yourself all over me—look at you, baby. you gonna cum for me?”

his words send a violent shudder through you, the coil in your stomach winding impossibly tight as you grind harder, faster, chasing that edge with every rock of your hips. his hand presses against your lower back, anchoring you to him as the pleasure builds to a dizzying peak, his thigh slick beneath you, heat pooling between your legs.

“fuck, sam,” you gasp, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growls, tightening his grip. “you’re right there, sweetheart. let me feel it.”

his name spills from your lips, a breathless, desperate sound, and then you're shattering, hips stuttering against him as pleasure crashes over you in waves, white-hot and endless. his arms lock around you, holding you through it, his mouth pressing against your temple, your cheek, whispering soft, filthy praises into your skin.

“so damn pretty when you fall apart,” he murmurs, voice rough. “God you’re gorgeous.”

and when the aftershocks leave you trembling, spent and boneless in his arms, he just holds you tighter, hands roaming slow and reverent over your skin. “better?” he murmurs, and you nod, breath still unsteady, fingers tangled in his hair.

“yeah,” you whisper. “much.”

his smile is wicked against your throat. “good,” he says. “’cause i’m not done with you yet.”

credits of divider @toastray

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @sunnyteume

#dulce's garden #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #fem!reader #sam winchester #jared padalecki #spn smut #sam #sammy #sam spn #sam winchester smut

223 notes · View notes

delirious-donna · 3 days ago

Text

While You Were Sleeping [Blue Lock]

an: it’s been a hot minute since I did a multi character drabble, but here we are in 2025 and I love too many Blue Lock characters just to write about one at a time 🤭

premise: a good night’s sleep is not always a given, so how do they react when their sleep is interrupted?

featuring: Barou Shouei, Itoshi Sae, Nagi Seishiro, Oliver Aiku & Tokimitsu Aoshi

warnings: female reader, pet names (baby, darling, honey, sweetie, woman (it’s affectionate I swear)), lots of fluff, hurt/comfort, a lil angst, not full NSFW but suggestive in places, mentions of nightmares, fear of infidelity, confused feelings, Sae being emotionally constipated, lots of cuteness (I hope 🥹)

Shouei grunted.

His brow scrunched as the sleep he had been luxuriating in began to recede. No matter how desperately he grasped at it, the threads slipped through his fingers until—thump!

An intense pain against his shin woke him.

The room was pitch black with no noise from passing traffic but there was a whimpering coming from the right of his body. Blinking, he twisted onto his side and the irritation that had been building in his chest dissipated almost immediately.

Your face greeted him.

A face he loved, cherished and adored above all others, but it was twisted into a grimace. He watched as your lips wobbled though your eyes were screwed tightly shut. Even with the limited light source he could make out the sheen of sweat covering your skin, and he reached out a hand to cup your cheek only to be kicked once more.

“Fuck! Christ… I’m meant to be the striker in this relationship,” he muttered vehemently from beneath his breath, palm furiously rubbing at the spot you had brutally attacked.

When you curled tighter into a ball, damn near trembling, he couldn’t stand it any longer.

Shouei reached out for you once more. “Baby… wake up.”

Your body relaxed into his touch, cheek nuzzling his rough palm like it was a comfort to be sought out. The corner of his lips quirked at the adorable display, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew what was causing you such distress.

“C’mon, come back to me,” he coaxed and finally adding a please when you seemed intent on refusing to rouse for him.

“Shou’—wassamatter?”

Goddammit, that shouldn’t make his heart flutter.

The sleep laced confused tone of your voice tugged at his heartstrings until the man known as the villain of the pitch was practically twittering like a love sick songbird.

“—thought you might tell me. You’ve been kicking the shit outta me for the past ten minutes. What’s going on?” he asked, softening his tone when your face flushed.

You burrowed into the pillow, fingers pulling the covers up to your chin and he had to fight to pull them back again. “Don’t go getting shy on me, woman.”

Huffing and puffing, you bit your lip but relented.

“It’s silly,” you whispered, only to be met with one sleek black eyebrow raised in coercion. He wasn’t going to let this go. “… was dreaming that some girls were hitting on you after a match,” you admitted grumpily, pouting out your bottom lip.

Barou snorted. It was just like you to be having a bad dream where your reaction was to fight back. That was his girl. His precious treasure.

Without warning he wrapped you up with his thickly muscled arms, drawing you into the centre of his chest where his heart thundered like a drum.

“No girl would dare. Not when you’ve got that kinda kick on you,” he teased with a gruff chuckle.

All you could do was cling to him; fingers digging into the meat of his back and shoulders like he was an anchor you needed to keep you sane. Your eyes shut slowly, soothed by the rumbling laughter in his throat. You trusted him implicitly so why did tears prick your eyes?

“Y’know I’d never entertain that shit, yeah? Got the only girl worth a damn right here in my arms, in my bed, in my… heart.”

You hiccuped, smiling into his skin and drinking in the cedarwood scent of his soap. Your fingers combed through the luscious length of his hair, humming contentedly as your heart lightened.

“It’s a big game tomorrow; the King needs his sleep. Cuddle me and keep me from assaulting those dumb girls in my dreams again.”

Shouei was more than happy to oblige.

Sae was not accustomed to being unable to accomplish something once he set his mind to it.

He was driven, self-motivated—perhaps not always for the right reasons—but he worked diligently to improve himself in all aspects that he considered important.

So why then did he find himself wide awake and silently seething?

From his seated position in the bed, he glanced down at your sleeping form. Your face relaxed, eyes fluttering as dreams no doubt coloured behind your lids, and your lips… so soft and perfectly kissable. He would blame you, but he couldn’t.

You might be the reason he was unable to find rest, but it was his lack of ability to form suitable words that irked him endlessly.

Three little words and they were lodged in his throat like an anvil in some stupid Saturday morning cartoon. You knew. He knew that you knew. Except it wasn’t the same as actually saying it, was it?

A tic worked in his jaw and as if sensing his ire, you grumbled and stretched. Cute little hands sought him out, eyes still closed but brow now knitted together when you felt for him and discerned that he was not lying down as he should be.

“Sae?”

“Hm.”

You blinked, rubbing at your eyes and shuffling closer until your head was lying in his lap. “It’s late, you should sleep.”

He agreed—wholeheartedly.

Sae looked upon you and felt the words rush through his brain at an alarming rate. Words that he couldn’t possibly voice, not yet, maybe not ever if he feared the worst.

Vulnerable was not an emotion he was used to, yet it beat against his brain. Licking across his suddenly parched lips, he mustered the ghost of a smile. It only resulted in your worried little mewl.

“It’s okay, I’m just thinking. Go back to sleep,” he said matter-of-factly.

His eyes cooled when you refused, choosing to continue the conversation he didn’t wish to engage with right now. “About what?”

A rogue thought of him grabbing you by the shoulders until your face was nose to nose with him struck across his temples like lightning. His every thought was centered on you, how could you not know?

At training.

In the shower.

When you were cuddled into his side and happily yapping about your day.

When you were chanting his name like a personal prayer, face twisted into bliss.

When he should be sleeping.

“It… it doesn’t matter. It can wait ‘til the morning.” Sae gave you no room to argue, scooting down the bed and drawing you beneath his arm. “Sleep.”

You yawned. Pretty eyes blinking up at him with that adorable little smile that only wrapped him further around your pinky finger.

“‘m gonna hold you to that, Sae.”

He made a noise in his throat and closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself for not having the strength to be completely honest with you.

Maybe tomorrow… he thought. Gods, he hoped.

Seishiro liked his sleep. Everyone knew that, and they also knew that once he was asleep it was almost impossible to wake him until he was good and ready.

That was why it was so odd that he found himself staring at the alarm clock on his bedside cabinet as it flashed a neon 3am message at him. For a moment, he simply blinked at the glow, wondering if he did it enough times that it would eventually make sense or he’d fall over again, but it was no use.

Did he need to pee? Was he thirsty? Too hot? Too cold? Need an extra pillow?

The answer to each was no, and that only made his brow furrow deeper in confusion. He moved to turn over, expecting to find your sleeping form by his side so he could drag you backwards into the embrace of his body, but he stopped short.

His fingers met only cold sheets where you should be and his heart lurched. It was three in the morning, why weren’t you in bed? And if you weren’t in bed where the hell were you?

Only now did he realise that your absence had been the catalyst to his waking. Like a comfort blanket, Nagi had long known that he slept best when he was touching some part of you and it wasn’t like you seemed to mind either. An arm over your waist. A leg between yours. His palm anchored at your chest.

Sleepily, hands rubbing at his fatigued eyes, he made his way from the bedroom to search for you. It didn’t take him long when the soft glow from beneath the living room door beckoned him forward, and he found you huddled in a blanket on the couch.

“Whatchu doing up?” he asked blearily, ignoring the little jump you gave at his sudden appearance.

“Oh—‘shiro. What are you doing up?”

Nagi frowned, rounding the couch and settling by your side until his head rested on your shoulder. “I asked you first.”

Your fingers raked through the pure snow of his hair, humming at how to word it so he wouldn’t worry but ultimately deciding on honesty.

“Nightmare,” you admitted with a subtle shrug.

“And you didn’t wake me?”

Silly man… he was like a rock once he was out. Plus, why would you want to worry him with a silly nightmare that now you were awake you could reason out it was total nonsense?

“You sleep deep, pookie… and it was silly nonsense.”

Seishiro puffed loudly through his nose, clearly unamused. His chin came to rest on your shoulder, hand raised to turn your head to fix you with those pretty, drowsy eyes. “It’s not silly or nonsense if it bothered you enough that you had to get up. Next time you have permission to dump a glass of water on me.”

Your laughter came out like a bark, and even he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

“I’m serious, sweetie. It’s my job to make sure you’re happy and I refuse to be caught slacking cause I’m fast asleep,” he scolded, but mostly to himself.

His arms wound around your body, lifting you so you were cradled on his lap with your head on his shoulder this time. “Wanna talk about it or do you want me to tell you exactly how I would defeat all those nightmare monsters?”

“Oh ho, this I’ve got to hear. Go on gamer boy, tell me how you’d slay my nightmares.”

And he did, until you were both laughing and yawning, and tired enough to fall asleep entwined on the couch.

For as many nights as you had spent in Oliver’s bed, it still didn’t quite feel like you belonged. Despite your best efforts, something always kept you on guard and tonight was no different, except it was… and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Sure, things weren’t serious between you two, but the past few encounters had led you to believe that he was being even more cagey than normal.

Your gaze wandered to the dozing profile beside you, eyes lingering on the scruff along his jaw and the pretty hair that fell in that perfectly ruffled way against the pillow.

Why were you here?

The question refused to leave you alone.

When had Aiku ever invited you over and you hadn’t ended up fucking like animals? It wasn’t like you had reached out to him, oh no, you knew better than to have your hand bitten in situationships like these. He set the terms, and you were happy to follow until you got bored… or at least that had been the case with other lovers in the past.

It felt odd to be lying here in nothing but one of his match shirts and for there not to be an ache between your thighs. You weren’t exactly complaining. The movie had been one you had been meaning to watch for months, and the conversation had been easy and full of laughter, but what did it mean?

You weren’t going to lie here awake all night.

“Uhh… Aiku?” You tapped his shoulder as gently as possible, not that he even moved an inch. For a moment you simply listened to his breathing which was even and deep. Damn heavy sleeper.

Clearing your throat, you half yelled. “We need to talk.” Four words that would strike fear into the hearts of men worldwide, and it seemed that Oliver was no exception.

His alluring heterochromatic eyes blinked wide, and you smothered your laughter behind a palm. “Did you…?” He started, but you hushed him just as quickly.

You snuggled down the bed so that you were face to face, his warm breath caressing your throat and you hated how badly you wanted to kiss away that suspicious look on his stupidly handsome face.

It was impossible to resist the temptation to touch him completely, so you let your hand wander until it traced the width of his bottom lip and tickled the patch of scruff just below. You canted your head as much as the pillow would allow and blew out a breath—it was now or never.

“Why am I here?”

Aiku scrunched up his face as if you had asked the most stupid question possible. It warmed your skin, your free hand twisting into the sheets to stop yourself from visibly squirming.

He chuffed after a long moment. “The fuck you think? I like your company… that so bad?”

Oh. Well…

“Look, Aiku—this has strictly been a physical thing until tonight. You can forgive me for being a little miffed,” you huffed petulantly, mainly to cover your embarrassment.

The smug smile that stretched across his plush lips was one you were either gonna smack sideways or kiss stupid. Right now it was a 50/50 split on which way it would go.

He stretched, sleepily, lazy and all sleek strength. Goddamn him.

“Is that the problem? You didn’t get off so now you can’t sleep. Y’know I can fix that real quick, darlin’” he purred, a strong thigh forcing its way between your legs until you yipped and fixed him with a stern scowl.

“Don’t—ah—don’t deflect, Oliver!”

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Aiku flopped backwards and just as quickly he anchored those strong hands at your waist and hauled on top of him. He chuckled when you gasped and smacked at the wall of his chest.

“Hey! Alright alright…” he conceded, schooling his features into sincerity.

In the blink of two mismatched eyes your stomach dropped into your toes. His fingers traced the curve of your shoulder, collarbone, jaw. There was something different behind the teasing and you didn’t want to admit it.

“Can we… not always fuck? I like having you around, and I might sleep better when you’re here.” The last part was a near whispered admission, and it had you folding forward to drape yourself across his chest, if only to hide your face.

Your head fit perfectly beneath his chin whilst his fingers worked soothing patterns along your spine, wrinkling the shirt on your body.

“Yeah. I think we can do that.”

Panic was what woke him. The familiar thrill of terror that shot through his heart and filled his veins with adrenaline.

Sweat dripped from his hairline whilst he looked around wildly for the source of the panic. Frowning, Tokimitsu scanned the dark bedroom one more time and found nothing out of place, so why did it feel like his heart was going to beat out of his chest?

A wail akin to the noise of a wounded animal sounded next to him and his skin prickled with goosebumps. This was what he had shaken him awake with an almighty start; he knew it.

Where his girlfriend should be, his eyes landed on a twisted lump of sheets and tangled hair. It sounded like the quivering mass was crying and without hesitation, he leapt into action.

On his knees, the mattress dipped as he worked to free you from the sheets that were coiled around your arms and legs like snakes. He couldn’t quite fathom how you had ended up like this and why the cold of having no blanket at all hadn’t woken him earlier, but it hardly mattered.

Finally, your hot, flustered face appeared with your eyes squeezed shut and tears streaking your cheeks.

“Honey, wake up. It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here. Hey… hey,” he babbled, grasping at your shoulders whilst still trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Ao-shi!” You gulped through tears, blinking away the remnants of sleep that tried valiantly to claw you back under its control.

He could die from heartbreak at how you clung to him, at how you launched yourself upright and into his arms. Your head tucked down to your chest beneath his chin, body trembling and wet with cold sweat. The t-shirt you had borrowed earlier that night bagged on your body, but it was slick and sticking to your skin in places.

Tokimitsu was the one who was used to feeling scared, nervous, anxious… but right now the tables were flipped and how he wished he could take those emotions from you and carry the burden. At least he was used to it.

“It’s alright, just breathe for me,” he coaxed gently, rubbing your back in circular patterns. Aoshi kissed the crown of your head over and over, giving you a chance to control your breathing and regulate yourself whilst he grounded himself with the familiar scent of you.

After a moment or two, your fingers loosened from where they were dug into his biceps. He knew there would be little crescent moon indentations, but he didn’t care, he’d wear them as badges of honour.

You sniffled, bleary eyed and embarrassed. “… ‘m sorry, Aoshi. Bad dream. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Aoshi cupped your face in both hands and brought your face up gently to the same level as his own, thumbs wiping over the watery tracks on your soft, perfect cheeks. His smile was gentle, reassuring, everything he saw in you when you were the one comforting him.

“Don’t be silly and never apologise for feeling scared or worried. Isn’t that what you tell me?”

You nodded once, still a little shaken from images that no longer formed full pictures but were now only snippets of the fear that had gripped you.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, grateful that he let you lean forward and rest your forehead against his shoulder. The citrusy scent of his favourite bodywash tickled your nose and coaxed a smile upon your lips.

“I love you.”

Tokimitsu flushed scarlet. It wasn’t the first time you had proclaimed your love and he returned it eagerly and sincerely, but it still took him by surprise to hear it and to know he had been so lucky.

He laughed, nervous and adorable. “Isn’t that usually my line?”

“Maybe… but not tonight.”

#delirious writes #barou shouei #itoshi sae #nagi seishiro #oliver aiku #tokimitsu aoshi #barou x reader #sae x reader #nagi x reader #oliver aiku x reader #tokimitsu x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff

232 notes · View notes

aquaholicsanonymousworld · 3 days ago

Text

GQ Bowl

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Model!Reader

Summary: As a model, you take center stage at the GQ Bowl Fashion Show, finally feeling the highs after a year of challenges—from Joe Burrow’s tough season to a break-in at your home. But now, with Joe crowned as Comeback Player of the Year and you walking in one of the most prestigious shows of the year, the two of you savor the moment.

The city of New Orleans buzzed with an electric energy, the kind that only Super Bowl weekend could bring. Music spilled onto the streets, a mix of jazz and the occasional chant of hopeful fans waiting to see if their team would claim victory. But tonight, the biggest event wasn’t just happening inside the stadium—it was happening at the GQ Bowl Fashion Show.

Backstage, you took a deep breath, adjusting the sleek, custom-designed Bode suit draped over your figure. The air smelled like a mix of expensive perfume, freshly pressed fabric, and the anticipation of a show that blended the worlds of sports and fashion. You were no stranger to the runway, but tonight felt different. This wasn’t just another show—this was your moment, with Joe Burrow waiting in the front row.

It had been a long, grueling year. Between Joe’s rough season, the endless scrutiny from fans and media, and the terrifying break-in at your house, it felt like you two had barely had a moment to breathe. But now? Now, things were finally turning around. Joe had just been named Comeback Player of the Year, a testament to his resilience, and here you were, walking in one of the most exclusive fashion shows of the year. The lows had been unbearable, but tonight? Tonight was a high.

The lights dimmed, the crowd hushed, and the music swelled as the first models took the runway. You felt the pressure mounting, the weight of every camera flash, every pair of eyes tracking your steps. But when your cue came, you stepped forward with confidence, the rhythm of the music syncing with each measured stride. The Bode collection, inspired by football and vintage Americana, made you feel like you were wearing a story—one that tied your career and Joe’s world together in an unexpected but perfect way.

As you neared the end of the runway, your gaze found Joe in the front row. Dressed in an effortlessly tailored suit, his expression was one of quiet admiration, his lips just slightly curved into that signature smirk. He wasn’t a man easily fazed by much, but tonight, he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the room.

When you turned to make your way back, he caught your eye and mouthed, "Guess I’m the one watching from the sidelines now."

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, shaking your head slightly as you kept your stride. Only Joe could make a joke in the middle of such a huge moment.

The moment was fleeting, but it held weight. It was more than just a look—it was reassurance, a silent message that even in the chaos of your careers, in the whirlwind of cameras and constant attention, you were still each other’s anchor.

The show ended in a standing ovation, flashes illuminating the venue as designers, athletes, and models celebrated the success of the night. You barely had a moment to breathe before Joe was by your side, his hand finding the small of your back as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“You stole the show,” he murmured, his tone filled with pride.

A smile curled on your lips as you turned to face him. “You think so?”

Joe nodded, his blue eyes filled with something deeper than admiration—something undeniable, unwavering. “I know so.”

The after-party was a blur of champagne toasts, flashes of cameras, and whispered conversations in dimly lit corners. But amidst it all, you and Joe found your own moment of quiet, sitting on the balcony overlooking the lively streets of New Orleans. He reached for your hand, tracing absent patterns on your palm, a small yet intimate gesture.

“I’m proud of you,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the distant music. “Not just for tonight. For everything. We’ve been through hell this year, and look at us now.”

You squeezed his hand, letting the warmth of his touch ground you. “Right back at you, Burrow. Comeback Player of the Year isn’t just about football, you know.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah? What’s it about then?” Before you could answer, he leaned in, his hand cradling your jaw as he pulled you into a deep, lingering kiss. The noise of the city, the distant hum of music, all faded into the background as his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a smirk playing at his lips. “Still waiting for that answer.”

“It’s about coming back to yourself. Finding your way through the worst and making it to the other side.” You looked at him, your heart swelling. “And I think we did that together.”

Joe exhaled, his eyes locking onto yours with a rare kind of vulnerability. “Yeah. We did.”

In the city that never stopped moving, you found stillness in each other. And on a night where fashion met football, love had its own place under the bright lights of New Orleans.

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow bengals #cincinnati bengals #bengals #nfl #nfl fanfic #gq bowl

212 notes · View notes

watermelonlovershigh · 2 days ago

Text

Late Night Questions /concept/

AN: this idea came to me after watching that viral clip from a tiktoker named avery woods podcast where she shamed vaginal births. i instantly thought of y/n watching that and maybe feeling insecure about her vaginal births and confiding in harry. i hope you enjoy. its super short but so very sweet. remember to leave your feedback. requests are also always open, even if it takes me a while to write it. xoxo

This story contains: mentions of c-sections, mentions of vaginal births, insecurities, comfort, fluff

{ dadrry - husband!harry - softrry - au!harry }

word count: 586

After viewing a TikTok where a woman shames vaginal births, you feel a surge of insecurity and decide to wake Harry from his sleep to confirm whether or not he would've preferred you to have a c-section to ensure your vagina remained in optimal condition for your sex life.

(Photo above is ai, it's not real. Got it from pinterest. I didn't create it either.)

You and Harry had settled into bed one night when a sense of curiosity enveloped you. Earlier, you'd watched a TikTok that suggested women who've had vaginal births are never the same 'down there' after childbirth, and that a c-section is the key to staying in 'pristine' condition.

You have given birth to two children, both through vaginal delivery: Lucy, aged five, and Harris, aged two and a half. Thankfully, you didn't face any complications that required a c-section.

As Harry spooned you from behind, you whispered, breaking the rooms silence, "Harry, would you have wanted me to have c-sections?"

He was half asleep already, so when he heard your question, he's thoroughly confused. Your question was super random. "Mhm, what?" Harry muttered behind you, his face against the back of your head.

"Would you have wanted me to have c-sections with our kids?"

"Baby," Harry begun as he shifted to hold you tighter, "why on earth are you even askin' me that as we're tryin' to fall asleep?"

You turned in his grasp so that you could face him, though you could only see the shadow of his body. "I watched a tiktok earlier where a woman mentioned her gratitude for having had only c-sections, saying it helped her maintain a 'pristine' condition 'down there' for her husband. So I was wondering whether my vaginal births with Lucy and Harris have caused my vagina to not be as good as it use to be, making you wish I had c-sections."

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Harry replied, "Sweetheart, that's undoubtedly one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard. Had a c-section been necessary, sure, I would've wanted you to have one. However, since neither of our children required one, I can't say I wished you'd had c-sections simply for the enhancement of our sexual relationship. And for - your - information, I must say that your vagina feels just as good as it did before we became parents. In fact, I may love it even more now, knowin' the incredible role it played in bringin' our two wonderful children into this world."

His words nearly made you want to cry. You have the sweetest husband any women could ask for. So kind and thoughtful, and always worshiping your body. Every insecurity you've ever had, whether it's the stretch marks on your tummy and thighs, the mole on your back, or the scar on your left arm, he makes sure to kiss and love on all your insecurities whenever you make love. Harry doesn't just love you, he loves every single part of you.

In a meek voice, you spoke, "Thank you for your kind words, H. You make me realize not everyone has a perfect husband like I do. Kinda feel sorry for all these women who think they need to be perfect for their husbands, when I'm not perfect but you love me just the same."

Harry let out a sleepy laugh. "You're welcome, baby. It's sad that some husbands shame their wives for things they can't control. Though I'm not perfect by any means, I try to be good to you. Love you so much, and even more after watchin' you give birth to our amazing children. As well as makin' me a dad. Thank you for that."

Once Harry finished speaking, the room went silent again. You stayed nestled up to his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, holding you close, and you both fell asleep in each others arms.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! some people who've requested to be added doesn't allow me to @ you. please check your settings first.)

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722 // @mema10 // @harryswifee // @jewelaponte // @fruity-harry // @triski73 // @chronicallybubbly // @prettygurl-2009

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles short story #harry styles concept #harry styles blurb #dadrry #dad!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #softrry #soft!harry #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles comfort #fluff #fan fiction #blurb'#au!harry

208 notes · View notes

manmuncher777 · 15 hours ago

Text

Bestfriend!Gojo who was hanging out with you and some girl friends when he went to get himself another drink, he got distracted on his phone before heading back, only to hear the topic of the conversation has changed. Hushed whispers and giggles coming from the living room and he stood behind the corner listening intently.

“What?!?! Never, come on your joking.” he heard a friend gasp.

“Not even that other guy you dated? the one with the weird facial hair?” your other friend asked only to be met with your embarrassed shushing.

“Guys, its not a big deal!”: you whispered. Gojo was intrigued now, what could’ve gotten little old you so embarrassed

“You’ve never been eaten out, its a huge deal!”

“Shut up, I don’t need Gojo hearing!”

Bestfriend!Gojo who’s stopped dead in his tracks… so no one has ever eaten you out huh? Figures with your list of lames ass fucking exes. He never liked any of the guys you brought home, always thinking you could do with someone better, someone like him…. Now that was becoming a lot more clear to him.

Bestfriend!Gojo whos thinking about how good he would treat you if you were his, he wouldnt be able to let you go 12 hours without getting a taste for you. If he was dating you, your pleasure would be his priority. But for now he was going to keep this to himself.

Bestfriend!Gojo who’s walking around the corner with significantly tighter pants now, smirk on his face. “What am i not allowed to hear sweets?” he questioned, lolloping down next to you on the couch, a lot closer than he was before. He was staring at you intently, and you had to try and make yourself concentrate

“N-Nothing!!” You squeal out, your voice noticeably higher than normal. Your face was pink, covered in a hue of blush. Your friends sat there trying to hold in their giggles at your embarrassment. Like school girls with a secret they were hiding from the teacher. You shot them a look to tell them to shut up, but it only made them giggle more.

Bestfriend!Gojo who was having trouble concentrating for the rest of the night after what he heard. He couldn’t believe it was true, he also couldn’t believe how flustered you were getting over it. He was also struggling to stop him imagination. Images of your whirling around in his mind, how you would sound ur he finally got his mouth on you. He knew he would make you enjoy it, he would have you cumming until you couldn’t anymore. Until you were shaking and all you could scream was his name. All he could do was sit and watch as you chatted vibrantly to your friends, while he was there imaging how you would taste.

Bestfriend!Gojo would couldn’t be happier when your friends finally leave. It was a long evening filled with wine and chatter, and he wasn’t able to enjoy it ever since your little secret got spliced. I mean what kind of man would he be to ignore such a thing like that. Now that he finally had you by yourself, he could get you.

“So you gonna tell me what your little friends were giggling about so much earlier.” He leans on your counter, watching as you pack away various things of the night, he had followed you into the kitchen for this interrogation.

“Not sure what you mean,” You shut him down, your back to him while you put away things in your fridge. Your back to him so he couldn’t see the blush on your face.

“Oh I think you do sweetheart, You were redder that a tomato” A sly smirk on his face as you whip around.

“I was not!”

“Oh yeah? You sure, because you look the same right now.” He said smugly, not moving despite your angry glare “C’mon, it cant be that bad, im your best friend, You can tell ‘Toru anything.”

you freeze for a second, a nervous shiver wracking over you and you can feel yourself flush. You couldn’t imagine telling Gojo such an embarrassing secret. You were mortified enough as it is

“It’s embarrassing Gojo” you say firmly, but he can hear the nervous shiver in your voice.

He makes his way round the counter. stopping right in front of you as you turn from the fridge. His towering figure stood above you like some kind of god. a knowing smirk on his face as his piercing blue eyes stared intently at you.

“Oh cmon sweets don’t Gojo me.” His deft fingers reaching to brush the prickled skin of you arm. “Jus’ tell me, can’t be that bad.” That smile might seems warm and welcoming, but you could sense something else under there. something you couldn’t quite place.

you sigh, an exasperated noise leaving you. you struggle to hold eye contact with him, glancing down at you feet. trying to hide the flush in your face

“Trust me. it’s pretty bad”

“You know you can tell me. Promise I won’t make fun of you. Scouts honour!” he places a hand over his heart as he speaks

“You were never a scout Satoru” you laugh at his joke. the tension you felt easing. maybe you could trust him

“Still applies.”

you pause for a moment, mulling it over in your mind. I mean he promised not to make fun of you. maybe it would be fine. You could just tell him and move on, that way he would stop bugging you about it… right?

“basically. Noonehasevereatenmeout.” “woah slow down. I didn’t even hear that”

you take a deep breath turning your head to the side so he can’t see your face

“I have never been eaten out! okay. No big deal”

the silence is almost palpable. You kept your head to the side, awaiting a loud laughter or some sort of chuckle. maybe some sort of mocking. but nothing. Just heavy breathing as you felt that presence get even closer.

“oh sweetheart” Gojos voice rang out with sympathy. not mocking. his hand gently dripping at your chin and forcing you to face him. those eyes of his as intense as ever. “You mean no one has ever gotten to taste that pretty little pussy?”

that question struck you to your core. your stomach warming at the crude nature of his comment. You couldn’t will yourself to fight against his grip and pull away. You allowed yourself to be entranced by the man.

While his voice may be kind. that smile on his face was anything but

“want me to be your first baby?”

bestfriend!Gojo who lowered himself onto his knees in front of you. A imagine you wanted imprinted in your mind forever. he looked heavenly, those gorgeous blue eyes never leaving yours. As soon as you nodded your head yes he dropped you onto your counter, spread your legs and dropped To his knees. Something you never thought you would see him do. But there was something about that look in his eyes. The way he never took them off you. It sent a shiver through you.

Bestfriend!Gojo who pushes up your skirt so sweetly, waiting to see if hes pushing some kind of boundary, but when he sees your blushing face, he knows you’re enjoying yourself to. His eyes now flickering down to where theyre begging to be.

Glancing down to your panties, a pretty black lace that he was soon peeling down your legs. ( slipping them into his back pocket for…. Later)

Bestfriend!Gojo who would sense your nerves, a hand stroking at your thigh as he stared at your pretty pussy. Folds glistening with arousal under the lights in your kitchen

“Oh? What’s this?” A long finger dragging through your folds, making you gasp. “Wet already sweetheart?”

You were certain you were a bright shade of scarlet now, you can feel yourself furiously blushing. You couldn’t place the reason however, was it because you were embarassed? Or maybe because you felt vulnerable. Or maybe it was because your handsome Bestfriend was on his knees infront of your needy pussy

Bestfriend!Gojo who wouldve liked to spend more time teasing you and making you beg for him, but he could save that for next time. Right now he just had to get his mouth on your pretty little pussy. He looked almost entranced, like a child being gifted a new toy.

Bestfriend!Gojo who wastes not a second longer, gripping your hips with his huge hands as he pulls you into his face. Burying himself in your folds eagerly. His tongue discovering each and every part of you. He did his best to start off gentle, but those sweet little moans you let out for him were making it hard to keep control

“Oh!” You gasped out, not expecting him to be so eager to eat you out. Goosebumps prickling all over your body as the first flick of his tongue hand you squirming. And he certainly doesn’t stop there, his tongue diving through your folds, savouring every drop of your essence with each greedy lick. One of your hands gripping on the edge of the countertop while another flies to his hair, tugging on the strands harshly as his tongue drags oh so sweetly over your clit.

“H-Holy fuck” you stutter out, you were a mess. Not expecting any of this to be unfolding, and not expecting it to be this fucking good.

Your flushed face screwing up with pleasure from the man beneath you, head flung back as moans and gasps leave you. It was a foreign feeling, but certainly not a bad one. You could hardly control your hips as they bucked into the mouth of your best friend.

Bestfriend!Gojo who is having the best time of his life, buries deep between your thighs. He never wants to forget the taste of you on his tongue. Swiping through your folds over and over again, dipping into your dripping opening. Slowly hes losing his resolve, getting messier and messier with each movement. Rumbling groans leaving his chest as you tug on his hair when he sucks your clit. Your juices dripping down his chin, but that doesnt stop him. His mind slowly being flooded with thoughts of you and only you. Nothing compared to the noises you were making in this moment, he wanted so badly to be able to see you. Just from those noises you were making, he knew your face would look so sweet, sweet enough to match the pitchy moans leaving you. The breathy plea’s for more. And the way you sounded when his name left your lips. But he didnt dare remove himself from you, unsure if he would be able to manage even a second away from you pretty little cunt. He wanted to eat your until you were crying.

Bestfriend!Gojo who can tell when you’re getting close, removing one of the hands that was keeping your legs spread for him, and tracing it down to your needy cunt. This was his chance to look at you, removing his mouth from you, allowing his deft fingers to take the place of his tongue tracing over your clit. Your body jumps at the feeling, a sharp gasp leaving you.

“Toru~”

“s’alright sweets, I’ve got you.” He assures while he traces sloppy kisses up your thighs. You can feel his eyes watching your every move. He’s glad he got a chance to look at your fucked out features that were all because of him. A smug sort of pride filling his chest knowing he was your first, and knowing he was the one who turned you into a moaning mess.

“Feels good huh?” He asks, and your can hear the smirk in his voice, youre not too sure if you can manage to open your eyes though. Unable to look at your Bestfriend in this moment. The only thing you can do is nod as his fingers work merciless circles over your clit.

“Oh come on baby, you can do better than that.” His fingers slow slightly “Open those eyes for me… unless you want me to stop of course.”

In an instant your shamelessly snap you eyes open “Fuck- no toru, please don’t stop.” You whine as your glassy eyes meet his. Tears of pleasure building slightly, threatening to spill.

You can feel your orgasm building in your stomach, that delicious feeling creeping closer and closer.

“There she is” he smirks. And finally his handsome face comes into view. You can see the shine of your slick coating his chin and mouth that is currently pulled into a mean smirk.

“S’good toru, so good.” You whimper as his fingers take up their usual pace, you’re so close, on the edge. And that look in his eyes is only making your situation worse.

“I know sweets, I know. So why don’t you be a good girl and cum for me?” Spiting a thick glob of saliva on your pussy, right before he dives back in, determined to finish you off.

And with a few more ravenous licks of your cunt, you were doing just that. Legs trembling and eyes squeezed shut you came on your best friends tongue, harder than you had in a long time. Back arching into the air as you yelped out for him. Grinding against his face as he helped you through your orgasm, movements never ceasing as you soaked his face.

Bestfriend!Gojo who didnt stop until you were squirming from overstimulation, pulling himself up on his knees and wiping his face while you sat there a dripping and quivering mess, still recovering.

“You wanna see what else im good at baby?”

153 notes · View notes

drippingghoneyy · 2 days ago

Text

I Plan To -Viktor x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Viktor share a secret history, known only to you and him. The reader grows weary of waiting, leading them to distance themselves, but who can resist?…

Genre/ Pairing: drabble, Implied smut (?), Viktor x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI!, tension, teasing, jealousy, possessiveness, dom!Viktor, GN!Reader, dom/sub dynamics, pet names… (lmk if I missed any!)

Word Count: 2.1k.

Notes: Reblog and like!! I read every comment, they make my whole day! If you find any spelling errors, no you didn't. Grammarly don’t fail me now 🙂 If you don't like nsfw content, please don't read it!

The first time it happened, it was a mere accident. Or so you liked to tell yourself. Late one evening in the lab, the soft hum of the machines and the flicker of candlelight had created an atmosphere thick with tension. Viktor had been explaining his latest research findings, his eyes alight with excitement, his voice a soothing rumble in the quiet space.

Your gaze had kept slipping from his notes to the curve of his jaw, the way his fingers danced over the parchment. The air between you had grown charged, until a stray touch of your hand on his arm had sent a jolt through both of you. He'd looked up, and in that moment, the universe had narrowed to just the two of you.

Subtle glances grew into lingering stares, and stolen touches became something more. Viktor was dominant, not in the way that he ruled with an iron fist, but in the way he knew exactly what he wanted and how to coax it from the world around him. His confidence was like a magnetic field, and you, a sweet assistant, of course found yourself inexplicably drawn to the edge of his orbit.

He'd praise your intellect, your dedication to the work, and you'd blush, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the nearby Bunsen burner. He'd lean in just a little closer, and you'd catch a whiff of the faint scent of his cologne—spicy and alluring. The line between professional and personal blurred until one night, after hours of a shared passion for science, you found yourselves crossing it.

That first time, he'd walked you to your room, the silence of the academy hanging around you like a velvet shroud. His hand had found yours, and your hearts had pounded in a delicious rhythm that matched your footsteps. You hadn't even realized what was happening until you were both standing in your doorway, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. A look passed between you, one that said everything without uttering a single word. You'd invited him in, and he hadn't needed to be asked twice.

The secret meetings grew more frequent, stolen moments in the shadowy corners of the lab or behind locked doors in his study. It was thrilling, but it was also exhausting. You were torn between your desire for him and the frustration that came with his refusal to acknowledge your feelings beyond the physical.

So, you started to pull away. It was subtle at first, a shift in your schedule here, a missed rendezvous there. You threw yourself into your studies and experiments with renewed vigor. The late nights in the library were no longer spent in heated whispers but in furrowed brows and pen ink smeared across pages.

Your mind was filled with theorems and hypotheses rather than his touch. You ignored the ache that grew with every passing day, the emptiness that settled in your chest when you walked past his empty lab.

Weeks turned into a silent dance of avoidance. You'd pass him in the halls with a nod and a forced smile, the kind that didn't reach your eyes. You had too much to do, too much to prove to yourself and the world. Assignments piled up, deadlines loomed, and projects demanded your attention.

Each step away from his lab was a silent declaration of independence, a rejection of the shackles of a secret affair that had begun to chafe. You found solace in the predictable patterns of your research, the comforting ritual of your experiments. The hiss of steam and the smell of chemicals had become your new lovers, demanding yet fulfilling in their own cold, unfeeling way.

On this particular day off, the sun had kissed your cheeks with a warmth that seemed to whisper of freedom as you went about your business in the bustling streets of Piltover. The cobblestones beneath your boots echoed with the promise of a day filled with your own pursuits, away from the prying eyes and whispers of the academy.

You'd visited the market, bartered for rare ingredients needed for your latest experiment, and even treated yourself to a cup of steaming coffee at your favorite café. The sweet scent of baking bread wafted through the air, mingling with the metallic tang of the city's ever-present industrial heartbeat.

As the afternoon shadows grew longer, you made your way to the lab, the weight of your pack filled with books and equipment a testament to your dedication. You pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped into the familiar coolness, the scent of dust and knowledge greeting you like an old friend.

The lab was empty, save for the ever-present glow of the crystal tech that hummed quietly in the background. The place felt eerily silent without the usual banter between you and your colleagues. But today was different. Today, you had agreed to help Jayce, and that meant a brief re-entry into the space you had so carefully extricated yourself from.

You set your things aside and began to prep the equipment, your mind racing through the list of tasks you had set for yourself. The sound of your own breathing seemed amplified in the quiet, a stark contrast to the days when you and Viktor had filled the room with the music of your passionate whispers.

You tried to ignore the memories that clung to the corners like shadows, the ghosts of your former self that whispered of what you'd been giving up. Instead, you focused on the here and now, the thrill of discovery that awaited in your research.

The hours ticked by, the soft click of glassware and the scratch of quill on parchment the only noises to break the silence. You had just finished calibrating an instrument when the door swung open, the sound echoing through the room.

You looked up, expecting Jayce, but instead found Viktor standing there, his eyes cold and distant. He didn't say a word, just strode over to his workstation, his movements sharp and precise. A flicker of annoyance danced across his features, as if your very presence was an unwelcome interruption to his solitude.

Your heart skipped a beat, a traitorous reminder of the attraction that still simmered between you. You straightened your back, determined not to let him affect you. You had your own work to do, your own path to forge.

The tension grew thick, a palpable force that seemed to pulse with every beat of your heart. You decided to ignore him, to act as if he were just another piece of the lab's furniture. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, his silence grew deafening, a stark contrast to the electric conversations you used to share.

Finally, unable to resist the urge, you called out to him, "Jayce said he'd be by so you guys could work on some things, and asked if I'd help. You guys are still doing that tonight?"

Viktor's head snapped up, his gaze piercing. "Jayce?" he repeated, the name leaving a bitter taste in the air. "What does he need from us?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ignore the way his eyes raked over you. "Some kind of new project. He said it was urgent."

Viktor's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "And he just assumed you'd come running?"

The accusation in his tone stung, and you couldn't help but laugh, the sound sharp and brittle. "Well, I'm here, aren't I?" you said, your voice a challenge. "It's not like I have anything better to do on my day off, right?"

He took a step closer, his expression darkening. "Why do you always have to be so...defiant?" The word hung in the air like a challenge, a silent dare to push him further.

"Is that what you think?" you replied with a smirk, the sarcasm thick in your voice. "That I come here to get bitched at?"

Viktor's eyes flashed with something that was not quite anger, but something far more primal. "You know exactly why you come here," he murmured, his voice low and intense. It was true; his authority and how he chose to use it had become an addiction, a secret thrill you craved even as you hated the feeling of being so utterly under his control.

You feeling emboldened by the challenge in his gaze, replied with a smirk, "Oh, I see. So it is all about power with you, is it?" You hadn't meant to goad him, but the words slipped out, a tiny rebellion against his coldness. You turned back to your work, pretending to ignore him, but every nerve ending was tingling with anticipation.

Suddenly, the sound of ripping fabric filled the room, making you jump.

"What the hell are you doing?" you asked without turning around, a smirk playing on your lips. You knew exactly what he was up to. It was a game you'd played before, one of dominance and submission that had become your twisted dance in the shadows of the academy.

When you did finally look up, you met his eyes, a thrill racing through you as you took in the long strip of cloth in his hand. The fire in his gaze was unmistakable, and you felt a shiver of excitement dance down your spine.

You knew this game all too well, the one where he'd prove his dominance and you'd pretend to resist, even though deep down, you craved the loss of control. It was a game you loved to play...

"You forget yourself," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air. "You forget who it is you're speaking to."

You rolled your eyes, the gesture filled with a blend of exasperation and arousal. "Do I really?" you replied, turning back to your work, pretending to ignore the electricity that crackled in the air between you.

The sound of his footsteps followed by the clicking of his crutch grew louder as he approached, each step echoing in the cavernous space of the lab. You could feel his presence behind you, a physical force that sent shivers down your spine.

You rolled your eyes and turned to face him, your heart racing. He towered over you, the fabric still clutched in his hand, his expression a storm of unspoken intent.

"I'm not afraid of you, Viktor," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. But as you met his gaze, you couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at you when you were wrapped in his arms, the tenderness that had briefly softened his features before he'd pushed you away. It was like looking into the eyes of a wild animal, one that could either purr or pounce without warning.

He stepped closer, the fabric still clutched in his hand. "You should be," he said, his voice a low growl that seemed to resonate in your very core. His gaze was unyielding, a silent command that sent a thrill of fear and desire through your body.

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrists, spinning you around with surprising agility despite his injured leg. In one swift motion, he bound your hands behind your back, the cloth tight and unyielding.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and arousal escaping your lips. His grip on your hair was firm, the pain a sudden, sharp reminder of the dynamics that had always underpinned your secret encounters. But this time, there was something different in his eyes—a coldness, a detachment that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You want to play games?" he said, his breath hot against your ear. "Fine. But remember, I always win sweetness."

He yanked you closer, your back pressed against his chest, you could feel the heat of his desire through the layers of your clothing. You squirmed, trying to pull away, but his grip was like iron, his fingers digging into your skin just shy of pain. His other hand reached around, capturing your jaw and tilting your face up to meet his.

"You want this," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that seemed to resonate through your very bones. "You always want this."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you met his intense gaze, your cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and desire.

You bit back a smile, feeling the thrill of the chase, and whispered, "Fuck you," with a laugh that you hoped conveyed the right mix of brattiness and challenge.

Viktor's smile grew predatory as he watched you struggle against the bonds, your eyes flashing with both defiance and want. He leaned down, his breath a warm caress against your cheek, and whispered, "Don't worry, my dear, I plan to."

#arcane #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor x reader #gn reader #viktor smut #arcane viktor smut #jayce talis #viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader

137 notes · View notes

heliosunny · 3 days ago

Note

Since I'm feeling really depressed rn, can you make a fyodor x reader but reader is really depressed, like they believe they're ugly, worthless and most importantly easily replaceable, so they always think fyodor will replace them with someone else that's why they always push him away.

- 🐢🐢

It didn’t matter how many times Fyodor whispered your name like a prayer, how often his lips brushed against your knuckles with something almost reverent, you always knew this wouldn’t last.

Because you were disposable too.

And soon, he’d realize that.

That’s why you never let yourself get too close. Never let yourself bask in the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. Someone else, someone better, would come along—someone beautiful, someone worthy.

So you pushed him away.

Tonight was no different.

"Leave" you muttered, staring at the floor, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. "You don't have to waste your time here. I'm sure there’s someone else you'd rather be with."

A silence stretched between you like a noose tightening around your throat. You didn’t dare look up.

"Ah... love" Fyodor murmured. "Again with this nonsense."

"You seem to forget that I do not keep what is easily replaceable."

"I chose you" Fyodor continued, "And I do not make mistakes."

----

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft hum of conversation filling the space. You stirred your drink, barely listening to the person sitting across from you. You hadn’t wanted to come here, hadn’t wanted to entertain the idea of someone new—but your relatives had insisted.

“You need to put yourself out there” they had said. “He’s a nice person. You deserve someone who makes you happy.”

Happy huh...As if that was even possible for someone like you.

"You're awfully quiet" your date commented, eyeing you with mild disinterest. "I guess I should’ve expected that. You’re not exactly the most interesting person, are you?"

It was subtle, the way your fingers tightened around your glass. You forced a small laugh, hoping—praying—that maybe you had misheard. But he only smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't look so offended" he chuckled. "I mean, you’re not ugly, but you're not much to look at either. And you barely talk. No offense, but I don’t get why your relatives were hyping you up so much."

His words sliced through you, sharp and effortless.

You swallowed thickly, your chest tightening as that familiar, suffocating feeling crept in—the one that told you you weren’t good enough, that you never had been.

Maybe he was right. Maybe this was just proof of what you had always known.

You barely tasted your food after that, barely heard anything else he said. The night ended with a cold goodbye, and you found yourself walking aimlessly down the street, arms wrapped tightly around yourself.

You had wanted to escape. Had wanted to run from Fyodor before he could push you aside like this man had done so easily.

But now, standing alone in the quiet of the night, a single, terrifying thought echoed in your mind.

What if he already has?

A soft gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine.

“You wound me, my love."

Slowly, you turned.

Fyodor stood beneath the glow of a streetlamp, the shadows stretching long behind him. He was smiling.

“You left me” Fyodor murmured, taking a slow step forward. “For that?”

You wanted to run, to tell him it wasn’t what he thought. But what did it matter? He was probably planning to leave you anyway.

“I—” Your voice faltered. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words got stuck in your throat.

“Go on,” he urged. “Tell me why you thought this was a good idea.”

The weight of his gaze was unbearable. “I just… I thought…” You swallowed hard. “You were going to replace me.”

"Replace you?" Fyodor echoed, his tone dripping with mockery. "Oh, love… is that what you truly believe?"

He took another step forward, and you stepped back, only for your back to hit the cold brick wall of the alley beside you. Please, anything but confronting him at such moment.

Fyodor was in front of you now, his slender fingers reaching out to tilt your chin up.

“Let me be clear,” he murmured,“There is no one else. There will never be anyone else.”

"And yet, despite my patience… you ran to another man.” Fyodor sighed, almost disappointed. “You let him speak to you like that. Belittle you. Humiliate you.”

“Fyo—”

His grip tightened at your jaw.

“Tell me, do you think he still deserves to speak?”

“Wait—you don’t mean—”

Fyodor chuckled. “Oh, my love… I mean exactly what you think I do.”

---

Fyodor’s apartment was quiet when you arrived, save for the faint sound of a record playing in the background.

After everything, after the cruel words your date had thrown at you, after the way Fyodor had looked at you last night—you couldn’t take it anymore. So you have to come here. Then you would tell him that you had to leave. Before he decided you weren’t worth the trouble.

Your hands trembled as you stood in front of his desk, watching as he carefully set his pen down, his gaze lifting to meet yours.

“What brought you here, love?”

“I—I just came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” he echoed, as if tasting the word on his tongue.

You forced yourself to keep speaking, even as your voice wavered. “This… whatever this is. I can’t keep doing this, Fyodor. I—I’m not enough for you, I know that. So before you get bored of me, before you find someone better, I just—”

Fyodor stood, moving around the desk in deliberate, measured steps.

"Before I what, exactly?" he asked, voice like silk laced with steel.

“You—you were going to replace me. I know it. You don’t have to pretend.”

You did a little jump out of surprise, a gasp escaped your lips as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you forward until you stumbled against him.

“You truly are cruel,” Fyodor whispered, his voice sickeningly sweet. “To think so little of me… to try and run from me.”

“F-Fyodor—”

“I, myself, chose you, I know what you're capable of.” he murmured, his fingers trailing up your spine.

You felt dizzy, your body betraying you as you leaned into his warmth despite the suffocating air between you.

"But since you insist on doubting me…" He pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face, tilting your chin up.

“I suppose I’ll just have to take measures.”

“Measures?”

Before you could say another word, he pulled you forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your lips.

“You’ll never leave me again.”

The moment Fyodor’s lips pressed against yours, you felt something—a faint bitterness, seeping into your skin. You barely had time to react before your body suddenly felt… light. Your thoughts, once tangled and suffocating, seemed to quiet, the anxiety that had gripped your chest moments ago fading into something calm.

Fyodor held you steady despite your weaken legs, his hands firm as they guided you into his embrace.

“No more doubts, my dear. No more pushing me away.”

“What… what did you do?”

Fyodor simply smiled, “Just a little something to ease that restless mind of yours.”

“You think too much,… and I simply cannot have that, now can I?”

Your lips parted in protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Your body felt heavy, but your mind—your mind felt so soft, like it was wrapped in cotton.

And Fyodor… he was still there. Still holding you, still looking at you like you were something irreplaceable.

For the first time, you didn’t question it.

You simply let him hold you.

—---

In the days that followed, you found yourself listening to Fyodor more. The creeping paranoia that had once consumed you, the desperate need to push him away, had dulled into something distant, something manageable.

He never let you too far from his sight, and strangely, you didn’t mind. If anything, you found comfort in the way he kept you close, in the way his fingers would idly play with yours when you sat together, his voice a low murmur as he spoke of the world, of people, of the uselessness of those who did not understand.

He never let anyone near him, not unless they were one of the few he trusted. It was proof, he told you, of how selective he was. Of how rare it was to be in his presence.

Of how special you were.

And you believed him.

For the most part.

Until her.

You weren’t sure what it was about the woman named Lila that set something off in you. Maybe it was the way she smiled too sweetly, the way her gaze lingered just a little too long when she spoke to you. Maybe it was the way she inserted herself into your space, into his space, a little too freely.

It made you uncomfortable.

That night, as you sat curled up on the couch, his fingers combing idly through your hair, you hesitated before speaking.

“She…” You swallowed. “She was too close.”

Fyodor hummed, fingers stilling slightly before continuing their slow, rhythmic movements. “Ah. Her.”

You nodded. “I… I didn’t like it.”

A pause. Then, a soft chuckle. “I see.”

You looked up at him, uneasy. “You don’t… you don’t think I’m just being paranoid, do you?”

He tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip.

“No, love,” he murmured. “You are simply learning.”

The next day, she was gone.

And no one ever spoke of her again.

#yandere x reader #yandere #bsd x you #yandere bsd #bsd x reader #fyodor bsd #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #heliosfyodor

97 notes · View notes

httpuckdrop · 13 hours ago

Text

ashes – day 144

you knew jack was a good hockey player. you knew he was capable of doing great things; you knew he could win any game he wanted to if he played as well as he could.

and yet, you were surprised to get the call from him inviting you to come watch him play the final game of the four nations tournament.

not that you were surprised he was in the finals, per se. you knew most of the hockey experts, and jack himself, had called the us team as the favorites for the tournament. but you and jack hadn't even discussed beforehand if you wanted to, or could, come watch him play.

i need you there, he had whispered into your phone after his win against sweden on monday. knowing you're in the stands cheering for me always makes me feel much better.

so, thursday morning, you got on the plane to boston. you were only able to see jack for a few moments after his morning skate – just enough time to hug and kiss his cheek and wish him luck – before he had to leave for media duties and whatnot before the finals. the time off gave you time to check into your hotel and get ready for the long night ahead.

and possibly try to calm your nerves a little, too.

not only were you nervous about the game itself, but mostly everything going on around it. jack had made sure that your name was written on some list to a special box in the arena for the players' families, and just the thought of interacting with so many new people left you a little nauseous. you'd just gotten used to being around the wives and girlfriends of the devils, but jack had no teammates with him in the national team.

it didn't help that your first interaction with anyone in the box was colliding with a woman about a minute after walking inside.

"i'm so sorry-" you said instantly, even though it was mostly her own fault for walking backwards without looking where she was going.

"no worries, dear!" she exclaimed, lifting her glass of champagne to her lips as she gazed over you. "well, aren't you just a doll! so sweet i think i could eat you up." she sent you a wink. "i see why jack would fall for you."

this caught your attention. "oh, you know jack?" you asked, eyebrows raising slightly. how did she know you were here with him?

"of course! we used to date. almost a year, but who counts, right?" the laugh she lets out felt strangely forced, yet you accepted the hand that she held out to you. "i'm stacy, i'm sure he's told you about me."

not once, actually. was it because she didn't mean much to him, or because he was hiding something? if they were together for that long, surely it had to mean something to him?

just like she hadn't left you room to introduce yourself earlier, she now started talking again before you could answer her question. "how are you enjoying being with jack, dear? it must be exhausting being with someone so obsessive!"

obsessive?

"he used to be glued to my side, he wanted me with him everywhere," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "he used to call me the day before his games, all 'i need you to come to seattle tomorrow and watch me play'. so cute but so…" she paused to search her brain for a specific word. "tiring."

if you had to use a thousand words to describe your relationship with jack, not one would even be something close to the word tiring.

"and, obviously, the sex was explosive. but i'm sure i don't need to tell you that, darling," she laughed, adding a little wink in there for good measure.

when jack called you this morning, you never could've guessed that you'd be standing here discussing your sex life with his ex girlfriend.

there was something so… uncanny about her. you found yourself wondering how in the world jack could have gone out with someone so shallow and flaky – and why he was so different with you than her? was it because of him, or because of you?

the only good thing about this new "friend" of yours (one you hoped you never had to see again after today) was the fact that she had no issues dragging you around with her and showing you around. when the game finally started, she helped you find where to sit and watch; and during the breaks, she brought you with her to get drinks and snacks to refill your energy.

when the game finally ended, after longer than the other games you'd attended, you stood up in the box to watch jack and his teammates receive their gold medals. you had assumed you'd just get to see him later, when he was done celebrating with his team – but yet again, stacy had grabbed your wrist and dragged you along with her down to the ice, despite your initial refusal.

you and stacy were far from the only people who had made their way down to the ice to celebrate with their loved ones. stacy ran off to find her boyfriend, brody or brady or brock or zach, and left you all alone by the door leading out to the ice. you couldn't see jack anywhere between the pile of crying wives and excited children – maybe this was a bad idea? maybe he'd already left the ice and returned to his changing room, since you hadn't made any plans to meet here? maybe he was chatting to someone he found more interesting than you? maybe he was hoping you wouldn't be there?

just as you were about to turn around and hurry away before anyone noticed you, a familiar voice called your name, and it was like everything else quieted down; the whole world around you disappeared, and the only important thing to ever exist was now skating towards you.

"hello, champion," you said when he stood before you, unable to stop a smile from breaking free on your face.

he offered you a hand, helping you step onto the ice with him, and then he pulled you into his arms and swept you off your feet. your arms draped around his neck, sweet laughter slipping from your lips as he spun around in a circle. "i didn't know you'd come down here!" he exclaimed, giving you one final squeeze before setting you back on the ice.

"i wanted to surprise you." your hands slid down to rest atop his shoulder guards as you took him in. the massive grin on his lips, his cheeks still flushed from the game, the tips of his curls sticking out from under his winner's cap – and the gold medal around his neck.

there has never been a more perfect sight, you decided.

"was that stacy you came down with?" jack's hands found your waist, his eyebrows raised as he looked down at you. you had almost been worried that he would be upset or mad about you meeting her – as if he had something to hide, perhaps – but he was still smiling. probably the high of the win still present in him.

"we can talk about that later," you told him. "now, i want to talk about how good you were. and how good you look in your gold medal."

"no need to boost my ego," he said, swatting a dismissive hand in the air.

"i'll boost your ego as much as i want to!"

he tugged you a little closer, your hips brushing up against his. "you'll come celebrate with me tonight, though, right?"

you silently studied his expression for a while – for someone so sure of himself, someone who had just won a tournament this big, he looked almost scared that you'd say no.

like you'd ever find it in yourself to say no to his pretty, brown eyes.

"of course. there's nothing i'd rather do."

93 notes · View notes

antebellum13 · 1 day ago

Text

I took this as a prompt and made a short little something!

Nine Lives, Nine Deaths

Draco Malfoy had always thought he was a reasonable man. He believed in logic, in carefully measured risk, in doing what had to be done to uphold the law.

And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of a bloodstained alleyway, wand still warm from the Killing Curse he’d just cast at Antonin Dolohov, and wondering how, exactly, his life had come to this.

It had started a few weeks ago. Subtle at first. A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a warm brush against his leg when he was sitting at his desk at the Auror Office. He had dismissed it as nonsense, a trick of the light, the kind of thing that happened when you were running on too little sleep and too much caffeine. But then it had escalated.

First, he started finding notes. Scraps of parchment that seemed to appear out of thin air, always scrawled in an unmistakable clawed script. Knockturn Alley. Behind the apothecary. Don’t forget your wand, little dragon.

Then came the whispers. Not in his head—no, Merlin help him, that might have been preferable—but in his bloody flat. At first, it was just rustling. A soft, knowing mrrow that always seemed to come from behind him when he least expected it. And then, on the third night, he woke up to find Crookshanks sitting on his chest, his luminous golden eyes fixed unblinkingly on Draco’s face.

You know what she deserves.

Draco had nearly hexed the bloody cat across the room.

Instead, he had sat there, frozen, as Crookshanks tilted his head and, with what could only be described as an exasperated sigh, hopped off the bed and strolled towards the window. When Draco had glanced at his nightstand, there had been a new scrap of parchment. Warrington’s estate. He’s alone. Make it hurt.

And so it had begun.

Draco knew it was madness. He knew it. But every time he tried to ignore the messages, the guilt would creep in, curling around his ribs like smoke. Every name Crookshanks had given him had been someone who had wronged Hermione in some way—Death Eaters who had escaped justice, men who had laughed about their crimes, who had walked free while she had been left with the scars. And damn him, but wasn’t this what he had always wanted to do?

The Auror Office had rules. Laws. But Crookshanks didn’t.

And Draco… well, Draco had always had a rather flexible relationship with morality.

Which was why he now stood in this alleyway, staring down at Dolohov’s corpse, knowing that Hermione was going to kill him.

Or at least, that had been the biggest of his concerns until he felt the unmistakable crack of Apparition behind him.

“What the bloody hell is going on, Malfoy?”

Draco winced before turning to face her. Hermione Granger was the kind of furious that made even the most hardened criminals consider immediate confession. Her hair was wild from the wind, her brown eyes blazing with something between rage and barely contained panic.

“This isn’t protocol,” she hissed, stalking closer, her wand gripped tight in her hand. “This isn’t—what have you done?”

Draco exhaled sharply and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, you’re going to think I’m crazy—”

“Oh, that broom has flown,” she snapped.

“—but your bloody cat told me to do it.”

Hermione froze. Her mouth opened, then closed. Then, after a long pause, she stared at him, slack-jawed, for a full minute. “You’re right,” she finally said. “You’ve completely lost the plot.”

Draco groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “I swear to you, Granger, I am not making this up.”

She crossed her arms, her expression unimpressed. “My cat—my eighteen-year-old, slightly overweight, perpetually napping cat—told you to go on a murder spree?”

Draco glared. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“That’s because it is ridiculous, you absolute menace.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know how it sounds. But just—just trust me. Let’s take Dolohov and Apparate back to wherever it is you usually keep that mad cat locked up, and he can prove it.”

Hermione stared at him, her nostrils flaring slightly as if she were this close to hexing him into next week. But then something in her expression shifted—an unmistakable flicker of worry. Not about the murders, no, but about him.

She thought he was losing his mind.

Well. Maybe he was.

But she still grabbed his wrist, her grip firm and warm, and waited until he had a hold on Dolohov’s body before Disapparating them both.

The familiar tug of Apparition yanked them through space, and when they landed with a sharp crack, Draco barely had time to steady himself before he heard Hermione mutter, “Oh, you have got to be joking.”

Because there, sitting in her green armchair like some kind of mob boss, was Crookshanks.

Draco turned to Hermione triumphantly. “See?”

Hermione did not seem particularly convinced. “My cat sits in that chair all the time, Malfoy.”

Crookshanks let out a long, suffering sigh. Then, with the casual grace of a king addressing his most idiotic subjects, he flicked his tail and regarded Hermione with something almost resembling disappointment.

Oh, now you show up. Took you long enough.

Hermione screamed.

Draco had to bite his lip to keep from saying I told you so.

She staggered back, hands in her hair. “No. No, no, no—this is a stress-induced hallucination. I have not just heard my cat speak—”

Yes, you have.

She shrieked again.

Draco crossed his arms. “Not so funny when it’s happening to you, is it?”

Hermione ignored him in favor of turning her wild, frantic gaze on Crookshanks. “Since when could you talk? And why are you sending Malfoy on assassination missions?!”

Crookshanks yawned and stretched lazily. Since always. You just never listened. And as for Malfoy—well, he needed a nudge, didn’t he?

Draco lifted his chin, oddly proud. “See? I was chosen.”

Hermione groaned. “Chosen for what?”

Cleaning up after the war. Delivering justice. Handling unfinished business, Crookshanks said, grooming a paw with perfect nonchalance. And before you start whining about morality—tell me, Hermione, do you really think any of them deserved to live?

Hermione’s breath hitched. For the first time since they’d arrived, she hesitated.

And Draco knew, in that moment, that she wasn’t as horrified by him as she pretended to be.

Crookshanks’ eyes gleamed, knowing. Ah. Thought so.

Then he turned back to Draco, flicking his tail again in something like satisfaction.

Well done, little dragon. Well done indeed.

Crookshanks twitched his whiskers, his golden eyes gleaming as he returned his eyes to Hermione. Then, with a slow, deliberate stretch, he settled back into the chair like a king upon his throne.

Now, he purred, gaze sharp as a knife. We’ll need that brain of yours for this next mission. Greyback won’t be as easy to ferret out.

Draco turned to Hermione, arching a brow. “Well, Granger? Are you in?”

She stared at them both—the smug cat lounging in her chair, the ex-Death Eater standing beside a corpse, the undeniable pull of something darkly satisfying settling in her chest.

With a slow, measured breath, she straightened her spine.

“…Tell me everything.”

Mob AU but w a twist

#dramione #writing prompt #mob boss #crookshanks #hermione granger #draco malfoy #hp fanfic

247 notes · View notes

marifilue · 21 hours ago

Text

Waves and Whiskey

Wordcount: 1.5k

Pairing: 70s Logan Howlett x F!Reader (no use of y/n)

Oneshot: Spending your afternoon with Logan in a beach

Tags: Fluffs, swearing, teasing, established relationship, suggestive content (MDNI)

There's nothing better than waking up to the warm sun peeking through the sheer curtains, casting that amber glow you’ve been yearning for after the long, depressing cold season.

You’ll probably hate the sun in a week, but for now, this is the first morning in months where you wake up to sunlight. You blink a few times, shaking off the sleepiness. The best part? It’s Sunday.

Exhaling, you stay on your stomach, hands clutching the soft fabric of your pillow. The thought of a warm morning already excites you—until you hear that familiar noise. You shift your head to the other side of the bed.

Logan, lying on his back, his pillow too high causing him to snore like a bear.

A sheepish smile tugs at your lips as your second wonder of the morning hits and you couldn’t be more grateful. You always take your time staring at his rugged features, those ridiculous mutton chops, his eyelashes, his nose. The way his muscles relax, his chest rising and falling, bare under the soft morning light.

You shift closer, rolling onto his side, bringing a finger up to trace the thick veins along his bicep. The snoring that would’ve pissed you off in the middle of the night somehow feels more tolerable in a morning like this.

You know exactly how to wake him up, starting with a kiss on his bare shoulder. Your lips trail up to the crook of his neck, sucking at his sensitive skin—not that it ever leaves a mark, no matter how hard you try.

Within minutes, you earn a low grumble from him, but he still refuses to open his eyes.

“Five more minutes,” his hoarse voice greets you as he shifts onto his side, facing you. Undeterred, you continue your kisses, now trailing along his bicep.

“Lo…” you murmur, sucking at his skin. He grumbles a lazy huh.

“Guess what…” You rest your arm on his waist, waiting for his half-hearted response.

He groans in acknowledgment.

“It’s sunny outside,” you whisper in his ear, your breath sending a shiver down his spine. Finally, his eyes crack open, finding your face just inches from his.

He glances at the window, then back at you.

“Fuck the sun,” he mutters, voice deep and laced with sarcasm, his palm sliding to the back of your head, fingers massaging your scalp.

“Ah-ah,” you tease, stroking his beard. “You promised.”

“No…” He shakes his head muttering your name hoarsely, realizing exactly where this is going.

“Yes, you did.” You grin triumphantly. Logan had technically agreed to go to the beach if the weather ever turned nice—not that he had much choice in the matter. A promise is a promise.

“Fuck me…” He groans, shutting his eyes before rolling onto his back, pulling you with him to settle on top of him.

You chuckle, pressing a few more kisses to his chest as an idea forms in your mind.

“I’ll fuck you up this morning,” you whisper playfully, eyes gleaming with mischief, “but then we’re going to the beach.”

Your words caught him by surprise but then he smirks, already knowing where this is going as your kisses trail lower. You can feel the bulge on his boxer starting to grow.

“I guess we have a deal,” he rumbles, keeping steady eye contact as his fingers gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

And the morning keeps getting better as your third wonder of the morning came naturally.

The waves crash against the shore beneath your feet, the breeze making your hair whip uncontrollably to the side, while your sundress flutters with every gust, driving Logan crazy as he chases after you.

With each step, your feet sink into the soft, warm sand, leaving a deep trail momentarily before the sea cleans them spotless. The beach isn’t crowded—just a few distant figures scattered along the shoreline, couples walking hand in hand, some kids chasing seagulls, and an older man sitting on a foldable chair, watching the ocean with a book in his lap.

The scent of saltwater and sun-warmed sand fills the air, mixing with the distant sound of laughter and crashing waves.

You're running fast, arms pumping, laughter bubbling up and stealing the air from your lungs, making it harder to breathe.

Logan is only a few steps behind you. Oh, you’re in trouble.

Just minutes ago, he had been enjoying his walk, a full bottle of whiskey opened in hand, sunglasses perched on his face—a clear sign of how much he despised the sun.

The sun was already dipping low, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink, so you couldn’t understand why he was still wearing them.

When you asked, he simply muttered, "Sunset looks better with these on," tapping the brown-tinted aviators—the same ones he always wore.

And you? You had been walking behind his broad shoulders when a mischievous idea formed in your mind. You crept closer, barely an inch away, and then, without thinking of the consequences, you tapped your knee against the back of his.

If only you had known how dangerous that was.

Logan stumbled almost comically, his balance sucking and betraying him. Worst of all—his whiskey tumbled to the sand, spilling more than half of it.

Your laughter burst out uncontrollably as he muttered a string of curses. You moved in front of him, trying to get a good look at his face, but then… he did the thing.

He took off his sunglasses and tossed them to the ground.

That was your cue.

You bolted.

But you didn’t even last two minutes. Logan was fast. Before you knew it, his hands were around your waist, lifting you off your feet as you kicked and squirmed in the air, gasping between soundless laughter.

"Where d’ya think you're goin’, huh?" he growled playfully in your ear.

"It was an accident! I swear—I didn’t mean it!" you giggled, breathless, as his arms slid under your thighs, hoisting you into a bridal carry.

"You’re lucky you’re wearin’ this sundress," he muttered, scanning you from head to toe, voice thick with something unreadable. "So fuckin’ distracting."

You looped your arms around his neck, momentarily fooled by how effortlessly he carried you, how light and gentle his touch felt. If only you knew what wicked plans were running through his mind.

He kept his eyes locked on you, pulling you into that hypnotic stare of his—those perfectly shaped hazel eyes holding you captive. You were so caught up in it, too busy teasing him about how much you knew he liked this sundress, that you didn’t even notice where he was headed.

By the time realization hit, it was too late.

The second the cold water hits your skin, you let out a loud gasp, flailing in Logan’s arms.

"You bastard!" You shove at his chest, but he’s too busy laughing, the deep rumble of it making your frustration even worse.

"You had it comin’, sweetheart," he drawls, holding you tight so you can’t escape.

Your sundress clings to you, dripping wet, and the waves keep knocking you both around. Logan, of course, stands like a damn rock, completely unfazed while you’re barely keeping your balance.

"You think this is funny?" you huff, shoving wet hair out of your face.

He tilts his head, pretending to think. "Yeah, kinda."

You narrow your eyes. "Okay." And before he can react, you cup a handful of seawater and splash it right into his face.

Logan exhales sharply, shaking the water off with an annoyed grunt. "Oh, you’re askin’ for it now."

You don’t even get a chance to run before he grabs you again, pulling you flush against him. His grip is strong, firm, and stupidly warm despite being soaked.

"You good?" he mutters, a little softer this time.

"Yeah," you grumble.

"Good."

Then he leans in and kisses you—quick at first, like he’s making sure you won’t slap him for it. But you kiss him back, gripping his shoulder to steady yourself. The ocean sways around you, but it’s nothing compared to the way your head spins when he deepens the kiss.

The taste of whiskey lingers on his lips, mixing with saltwater and something distinctly Logan. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your wet hair, and for a moment, you almost forget the whole revenge plan—Until a wave slams into you both, knocking you off balance.

Logan grunts, catching you before you can go under, but the damage is done—he's coughing up seawater between your startled laughs.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Logan grumbles, wiping his face.

You’re dying of laughter, clutching his arm for support. "That’s what you get, dumbass!"

He side-eyes you. "Oh, you think you’re funny."

"I am funny."

He huffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes. "C'mere."

And just like that, he pulls you in again, kissing you hard, like he’s making sure you don’t get any more bright ideas.

You do, of course. But for now, you’ll let him win this round.

#logan howlet x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x reader #x men #wolverine #xmen fanfiction #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you

98 notes · View notes

svgarseason · 1 day ago

Text

𖹭 cw: angst, briefly explicit, cheating implied, mdni

Kento Nanami is a good husband. You know, because he was good to you once, years ago. The memories come flooding back when you first lay eyes on him again in Tokyo. It seems like fate when he takes a job in the office you work in. Did he remember? Was it on purpose?

The ring on his finger answers your question. Of course he's married. What did you expect after all this time? It doesn't stop the flood of memories, though. He walks by your desk, and the scent of his cologne transports you back to when he wrapped you in his arms after a mission. His strong body closed around yours like a vice, like he could never let you go.

Your eyes meet from across the room and the image of him buried between your legs, looking up at you through blonde lashes, drinking in every little sound and expression you make for him. You shiver. Does he remember? Does he remember lying next to you, pretending to ignore you for his book while you whined and pawed at him? You remember. You remember the way he smiled and pulled you on top of him, the hardness of him pressed into your belly.

If he remembers, he doesn't show it. Aside from pressing your small hand into his large one when he meets you again, your interactions are minimal. Aside from saying that he's glad to see you well, your conversations are professional. A fresh ache settles into your heart. You never wanted things to end the way they did. After one too many sleepless nights wondering if he'd make it home at all, you'd hoped he'd follow you when you took the finance job in Tokyo. It hurt when he didn't, but not as much as losing him forever might have.

You try to be happy for him when his pretty little wife brings his forgotten lunch to the office. The way he smiles at her shouldn't make your guts churn with jealousy the way it does, but you're only human. She stops by more and more often. Everybody whispers about how she eyes up the dark-haired guy from security.

Still, the first time you see Nanami without his ring, you think it must be a fluke. Maybe he was running late, left it on the sink at home. But his finger is bare the next day, and the one after that. His chin is stubbled and his eyes are drawn and tired. "Are you okay?" You ask, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He says he's fine and thanks you. "I'm here if you need me," you offer, and he turns to look at you. When your eyes meet, you say. "I miss you." You don't mean to say it. It just slips out.

"I-" he begins. He shakes his head. Sighs. Looks away. "I can't."

Kento Nanami is a good husband. Just not yours. He turns you down because he's decent. But maybe not because it's what he truly wants.

The next day, the ring is back on his finger. Soon, the pretty little wife is stopping by, too often, with coffee or lunch. He even brings her to the annual company party. She looks devastating in red. Red like the wine you realize you're probably having too much of.

She doesn't even attempt to be discreet when she slips out of a side door with that dark-haired guy from security. You see it. Everyone does, even Nanami, who is frowning over the tops of the heads of the crowd on the dance floor. You are moving toward him, hand reaching out for him when he locks eyes with you. Then you are pulled against his chest again, and his nose is in your hair, and he's saying, "I missed you, too." The music is slow, the world narrowed to the lack of space between you. Time seems to stop.

It is nice, while it lasts, but then he says her name and he's gone. You're alone with the pulse of the music and the whisper of the crowd like a collection of cruel ghosts.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami smut #nanami angst #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut

245 notes · View notes

wvyik · 2 days ago

Text

wrapped in ya’ d.w. ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; after a hunt, you slip into dean’s flannel, but when he sees you in it, the heat between you two ignites, and it quickly turns into something much more tempting.

warnings; mdni! smut, explicit content, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, steamy chemistry, oral sex, (both receiving) unprotected fun, fingering, heavy praise kink, use of pet names, light breeding kink (👀), dirty talk, safe word check-in, long ass descriptions, porn with some plot? pre-established relationship, flannel fueled chaos, too much heat— someone call the fire department.

notes; hiya lovelies!! okay so.. this one gets spicy real fast. gawd i feel so shy about posting smut bahaha. but i tried my best. i need some tips (pun intended) though! i adore reading ur comments guys, seriously. thank you so much for the support! <3

words; 5128

The night had been long, the hunt brutal, but now, back in the bunker, the weight of exhaustion had settled into your bones. But there was one thing that made everything a little better — Dean’s flannel, slung over the back of the couch. You didn’t think twice before pulling it on, the soft fabric engulfing you, his scent instantly wrapping around you.

You had a second of peace, just standing there, breathing him in, when you heard the unmistakable sound of Dean’s boots behind you. You turned slowly to see him standing in the doorway, eyes dark, smirk curling on his lips.

“Really?” His voice was thick with amusement, but there was a layer of something else beneath it, something hungry. “Stealing my clothes now, huh?”

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, the oversized flannel making you feel like you were drowning in it— but it felt damn good. “It’s comfy,” you said, teasing him, but the heat in your gaze was unmistakable.

Dean’s eyes scanned you slowly, taking in every inch of the way the flannel hung off your body. He stepped forward, the air between you crackling with tension. “Comfy?” he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm, but his eyes were anything but joking. “You look fucking irresistible in it.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rush through your veins at his words. You could feel the tension building between you, that magnetic pull you couldn’t fight.

“You gonna keep stealing my shirts now, sweetheart?” Dean said, his voice rough, low, sending shivers down your spine as his hand reached out to trail down your arm. “Or do I get to make you forget about it?”

You swallowed hard, looking up at him. “Maybe I like it. Maybe I like you seeing me in your clothes.”

Dean smirked, and before you could blink, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you in so close that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. His lips were on yours before you could even react, hard and demanding. His hands slid under the flannel, grazing your skin, his fingers burning a trail up your sides.

You gasped into the kiss when his hands slid lower, cupping you through the fabric of your jeans, the heat between you two growing unbearable. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as his hands began to work the buttons of your jeans.

��Dean,” you moaned softly, your hands pulling at his shirt, desperate for more contact, for more of him.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he muttered against your skin, his breath ragged. “You want me to fuck you right here, in my clothes?”

You felt your body tremble at the thought. His words, the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t wait to strip everything away, made you ache.

“Please,” you whispered, fingers tugging at his belt.

Dean growled, his hands gripping your hips as he lifted you effortlessly, pushing you up against the nearby wall, your legs wrapping around his waist. His mouth claimed yours again, with an unrelenting pace.

His eyes darkened, lips brushing against yours, "You're so damn perfect. You know that?"

You shivered at his words, the combination of his raw, dominant tone and the sweetness of his compliments sending a rush of heat through your body.

"De.." you murmured, hands slipping beneath his shirt to explore the muscles of his back, skin burning with every touch. "I need you so bad, please,"

Your touch sent a jolt of desire coursing through his veins, his breathing growing heavy as he ground against you, the hard length of him pressing against your hip, the friction driving him wild.

"You feel that?" he asked, his voice rough, "That's what you do to me, sweetheart."

You gasped softly, feeling the evidence of his arousal straining against his jeans, your body responding involuntarily, arching against him in search of more of that delicious friction.

"Bed?" you managed, the word barely a whisper. "Need you in a bed, not against a wall.."

The corners of his lips curled into a smirk at your desperate plea. He wanted you too, craved you like the air he breathed, but he loved teasing you, pushing you to the brink before giving in.

"Not yet," he murmured, his grip on you unrelenting. "We're not finished here."

He dipped his head, his mouth trailing a path down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin, his hands roaming over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You writhed under his touch, your body alive with sensation, every nerve ending singing. "Dean, please," you whimpered, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

He savored the sound of your breathy pleas, relishing in the way you came undone beneath his touch. "I know, baby.. Love hearing you beg for me like that," he whispered against your skin, his voice roughened by arousal. “Enough of that, though. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

Your knees almost gave way at the command, a sharp gasp slipping through your lips. "De—," you protested weakly, but there was no real resistance, just a trembling anticipation.

"Do as I say," he insisted, his grip unyielding as he guided you to the floor, your knees hitting the carpet with a soft thud. He stood above you, his eyes burning with intensity as you knelt before him, your face level with the obvious bulge in his jeans.

"Take my belt off," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your hands trembled as you reached for his leather belt, your fingertips brushing against the cool metal of the buckle. It took you a few attempts to undo it, your fingers clumsy with desire.

Once the belt was undone, he caught your wrist, his grip firm as he guided your hand to the zipper of his jeans. "Keep going, sweetheart."

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you unzipped his jeans, the sound of the zipper loud in the otherwise silent room, your fingertips brushing against the fabric of his boxers.

"Now... pull them down, slowly." His words were a command, a challenge, but beneath the dominance, there was an underlying tenderness, a hint of vulnerability that only showed itself in moments like these.

You obeyed, your hands reaching for the waistband of his jeans, fingers trembling with anticipation as you shimmied them down his hips. The material was rough against your hands, and the sound of denim sliding over his muscular thighs sent a shiver down your spine.

He stepped out of his jeans, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers, the fabric strained by his arousal. He looked down at you, his eyes roving over your body, taking in the way you knelt before him, soft and submissive, ready to do whatever he asked.

He reached down, cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb traced your lower lip, his touch tender despite the commanding tone of his voice.

"You trust me, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes searching yours, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"Yes," you whispered, the word escaping your lips without hesitation. You did trust him, implicitly. He had seen you at your most vulnerable, your darkest moments, and he had never once taken advantage of it. Instead, he had been your pillar of strength, your protector, your safe harbor in the storm.

His thumb continued tracing your lip, a gentle smile curving his mouth at your response. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending a jolt of desire through you, his approval filling you with warmth. “Now, open that pretty lil’ mouth for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the simple command igniting a fire within you. Without hesitation, you parted your lips, your eyes locked on his as you waited for his next command.

His thumb slipped past your parted lips, tracing the outline of your tongue. “Suck it,” he demanded, his voice low and sensual.

You obeyed without hesitation, your tongue swirling around his thumb as you sucked it into your mouth. The action was both submissive and rebellious, your eyes defiant even as you yielded to his command.

Dean groaned, his eyes darkening as he watched you. "That's it," he said, his thumb withdrawing from your mouth with a wet pop. "Look so good on your knees for me, baby."

He threaded his fingers into your hair, his grip firm as he angled your head to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, his expression a mix of tenderness and dominance.

"You know what I want, don't you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You nodded, a wordless affirmation that you understood exactly what he was asking for. Your lips were parted, your breath coming in heavy pants, your body already trembling in anticipation.

He ran his hand over your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the rough command. "Go on then, touch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand trembled as you reached for him, your palm sliding over the rough cotton of his boxers, feeling the heat and hardness beneath. Your touch was tentative at first, but as you heard him draw in a sharp breath, your confidence began to grow.

His hand tensed in your hair as your touch grew bolder, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through the fabric. "Mmm... that's it," he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure, "Just like that, sweetheart."

Your hand cupped him more firmly, massaging him through the fabric until he was practically vibrating with need. "F-fuck... you're so good for me, aren't you darling?"

Your response was a strangled moan, your body responding to his praise like a flame to gasoline. You were on fire, consumed by a desperate need for him, the ache between your thighs growing with every passing moment. "Please," you gasped, looking up at him, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. "Dean, please... I need you."

His jaw clenched at the view of you. It was a sight that never failed to get him going, his control almost at its limit. "Yeah? You need me that bad, huh?" he teased, his fingers tangling more tightly in your hair.

You nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Yes," you breathed, your hand still massaging him through the fabric. "So bad, Dean. I need you. Please."

The desperate plea in your tone and the way you were touching him pushed him to the edge. He was already struggling to hold back, and the sight of you on your knees, begging for him, was almost too much.

"Then take what you want," he commanded, his voice a hoarse rasp, "Cmon, angel.. you know what to do."

Without hesitation, you reached for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down with a swift motion, freeing him from the last barrier of fabric. You swallowed hard as you took him in, your hand wrapping around him, the weight and heat of him feeling like the missing piece to a puzzle you hadn't known was incomplete.

He let out a guttural groan as you touched him, your grip firm and sure, almost worshipful. "Fuck.. just like that, sweetheart," he gasped, his eyes closing for a fraction of second before refocusing on you, watching your every move. "You know how to drive me crazy.."

The praise from him sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching towards his, your hand moving in a steady rhythm. You loved the way you could make him lose control, the way he looked at you now, completely undone by your touch.

"Yeah, just like that.. just keep touching me, babe," he whispered, his hand tightening in your hair again, guiding your mouth towards him. "I need you, sweetheart. I need-"

You didn't hesitate, your tongue darting out to taste him, the saltiness of his skin making your head spin. He groaned, his breath hitching as he watched you, his grip on your hair becoming almost painful. "You're perfect.. so damn perfect..," he murmured, his words interspersed with ragged breaths. "Just like that.. don't stop, sweetheart.. please don't stop.."

You quickened your pace, your tongue swirling and tasting, desperate to drive him over the edge. You wanted to give him everything he needed, to show him just how much you wanted him.

"Oh, I'm close... keep goin.." he gasped, his hips canting forward automatically, seeking more of the pleasure you were giving him. "Just a little bit more, sweetheart.. you're so good.. so perfect.. I'm gonna-"

You knew he was close, you could feel it in the way his body tensed, the way his breath came in ragged gasps. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze, and that was it.

His release was sudden, his body shaking with the intensity of it, a hoarse cry passing his lips. He held on to you tightly, the grip on your hair probably painful, but you didn't care. You loved seeing him lose control, the way his face showed every emotion, the way he let himself be vulnerable around you.

He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark and satisfied as he looked down at you. "Goddamn, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice still thick with arousal. “Think you—fuck—think you might need a reward for that, huh?”

A mixture of pride and exhaustion filled you as he spoke. You were trembling, your body almost as spent as his from the intensity of your actions. But the thought of a reward made your eyes gleam. "A-a reward?.." you asked, the word almost a purr.

He chuckled, the sound deep and rough. "Yeah, sweetheart, a reward," he confirmed, his hand moving from your hair to your face, his thumb tracing the lines of your face. "You did so good.. you deserve something special."

His touch was gentle, tender even, a stark contrast to the dominating way he had been moments ago. It always surprised you how he could switch between the two, one moment being demanding, the next tender. But that was just who he was. A man of contrasts.

Dean helped you up, steadying you on your shaky legs before leading you over to the bed. He sat you down on the edge, pulling you onto your back, your legs in between him. He held you close, his arms wrapping around you with a possessiveness that was both comforting and arousing.

He kissed you, slow and deep, his tongue moving against yours, tasting and exploring. It was a gentle, almost loving kind of kiss, one that belied the intensity of the moment. He pulled away after a few seconds, his gaze roaming over your body hungrily.

"I could ravish you right now," he murmured, his hand roaming over your body, "But I don't want to rush this.. I want to take my time with you, baby. I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

Your breath hitched at his words, anticipation building in your chest. You knew he meant every word, and the thought of what was to come made your body tingle. "I want that too," you whispered, your hands coming up to toy with his hair. "I want you, Dean. All of you…"

He smiled at your words, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "And you'll have me, sweetheart," he promised, his tone confident. "Every part of me.. yours to do with as you please."

He leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses down your neck, his stubble scraping against your skin. Each touch was slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every inch of you. His hand slid up your side, his fingers playing lightly at the hem of your shirt before tugging it up, slowly baring more of your flesh to him.

He pulled the shirt over your head, tossing it aside before leaning back to look at you. He took his time, his eyes roaming over your body, drinking in every detail. "So damn gorgeous," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "I never get tired of looking at you."

His hands began to wander again, exploring territory that was both familiar and exciting. He traced your collarbone, his thumb gently brushing over the sensitive area, before moving down to your breasts. His touch was light, teasing, his eyes fixated on your face to gauge your reaction.

You gasped as his thumb brushed over your nipples, the fabric of your bra the only barrier between you. He smirked, noticing your reaction, and did it again, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you. "Mmm... so sensitive already." he murmured, his voice low and teasing. He let his fingers go down your back, undoing your bra with skill.

Your breathing hitched, your body arching involuntarily under his touch. His words, combined with the sensations he was eliciting in you, were almost too much to handle. "Dean.. please.." you gasped, your body craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smirked at your plea, his hand tracing down over your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. "What do you want, darlin’? Use your words," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You swallowed hard, your mind fuzzy with desire. "More.." you managed to gasp out, your hips lifting slightly in a desperate attempt to get more of the contact you craved. "Please, more.. I need more.."

He chuckled at your desperate tone, amused and turned on by the effect he had on you. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, his fingers still teasing at the edge of your shorts. "I love how impatient you get for me, sweetheart.. it's almost endearing."

He leaned down again, his mouth finding a sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth nipping gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. His hand was more demanding now, his fingers slipping down the fabric of your shorts, now dancing along the edge of your underwear.

Your body was on fire, your skin overly sensitive to every touch and kiss. You whimpered, your thighs clenching as his hand continued to tease you. "Please.. I can't take much more of this," you gasped, your hands gripping at the sheets beneath you.

"You can take it," he murmured, his mouth trailing down to your chest, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. "I know you can, sweetheart. And don't worry, you'll get everything you want in just a minute.. if you behave."

You knew exactly what he meant by behaving. You'd be obeying him tonight, and he was reminding you of that fact. You shivered beneath him, the anticipation building. "I'll be good," you promised, your voice almost a whine. "I'll be so good for you, just.. please, Dean."

His hand moved lower, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, teasing the sensitive flesh there. "Fuck," he murmured, his eyes glued to your face. "So wet for me. You got that wet just by sucking my cock?.."

You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, the sound almost embarrassing in its neediness. "Yes," you admitted, "Just from that. Just from you."

He groaned in approval, his fingers moving gently over you. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, "That's my good girl. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

You nodded, your body shaking as his touch became more demanding. "I—I just wanted to make you feel good," you managed to gasp out, your hips lifting slightly in time with his movements.

"Oh, you did," he murmured, his voice rough with arousal. "You made me feel so good, sweetheart. But now it's my turn to return the favor..."

His mouth moved down your body, his teeth scraping against your skin, his tongue trailing a wet path towards your thighs. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a smirk on his lips. "You want me to take care of you, sweetheart? Want me to taste you like you tasted me?"

You nodded fervently, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "Yes," you gasped, the word almost a sob. "Please, please, I need you, Dean."

He chuckled, the sound low and dark. "That's what I wanted to hear," he murmured, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open before him. "Just relax, princess. I'm gonna make you feel so damn good."

His tongue was hot on you, his touch firm and sure. He tasted and teased, his mouth working you into a frenzy. It was almost overwhelming, the way he knew all your sensitive spots, the way he knew exactly how to touch you to drive you wild. You writhed beneath him, his finger curled up in you.

"So damn sensitive.." he murmured, his mouth moving against you, his words sending vibrations through your body. "You're so damn reactive to everything I do to you, sweetness.. it's so goddamn hot.. I could do this all night.. I could do this until you're a shaking, sobbing mess beneath me.. begging me for more..."

You were close, your body tensing, the coil inside you ready to snap. "Dean-please—" you gasped, your back arching off the bed, "I'm--oh God, I'm so close-just-just a little bit more—"

His tongue flicked over you, his pace picking up, his fingers digging into your thighs. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, "Cum for me. I want to hear you say my name, I want to feel you let go for me.."

And with his last words, you shattered, crying out his name as pleasure crested over you. You shook, your body arching, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. The intensity of it was mind numbing, the sensation washing over you.

He didn't stop, his mouth working you through it, prolonging the sensation. You moaned, your body trembling, your senses overwhelmed. It was too much, yet somehow not enough. You clutched at him, your hands running through his hair, needing something to ground you.

Finally, he pulled away, his mouth trailing kisses up your body as he moved back up to your face. He looked at you, his eyes dark, his expression satisfied. "You're incredible, baby," he murmured, kissing you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You tasted yourself on his lips, the realization making you shiver. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your body still humming with aftershocks of pleasure. "That was.. that was amazing," you managed to gasp out, your voice hoarse from screaming his name.

He smirked at that, his ego clearly boosted by your words. "Damn right, it was," he said, pride evident in his tone. He ran a hand through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender. "And we're far from done."

Your eyes widened at his words. Far from done? You weren't sure you would be able to handle much more, but the heat in his gaze told you that you didn't have a choice. You swallowed hard, your body already responding to his touch.

He chuckled at your expression, his hand rubbing small circles on your thigh. "You look like a deer caught in headlights, sweetheart," he teased, his smirk growing. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you. I just need you to do one thing for me."

You nodded, your body already responding to his command. "Anything," you replied breathless.

He leaned in, his mouth close to your ear, his tone dropping. "Beg for me, doll. I want you to beg me to fuck you."

Your cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "Please," you whispered, your eyes meeting his. "Please, Dean, I need you to—" you stopped, the words almost stuck in your throat.

He chuckled, his hand moving lower, his touch teasing. "Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he encouraged, his eyes dark and demanding. "I know you want it. I know you want me. Just let yourself say it. Beg for it."

You felt a thrill run through you, the combination of his words and his touch pushing you over the edge. "Please," you whispered, "Please Dean, please - I need you. I need you inside me. I need you to take me, to make me yours. Please, please, please just—just—" you couldn't finish, your words strangled by your own need

His lips crushed yours, silencing your words with a bruising kiss. "That's what I wanted to hear, pretty girl," he murmured against your mouth, "Fucking hell, you know how to get me worked up."

He pulled back, his eyes roaming over your body, his expression hungry. "Now, let's see how much more you can take."

With that, he steadied himself against you, slowly teasing his hard arousal against your wetness. You gasped, the sudden movement catching you off guard.

"You good, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice low. "Color check."

You took a deep breath, your mind still fuzzy with desire. "Green," you managed to gasp, your body begging for more.

He smiled, satisfied with your answer. "Good girl," he said, his hands gripping your thighs, he lifted your legs up over his shoulders. "Just relax, angel. I'm gonna take good care of you."

He leaned down, his mouth finding a sensitive spot on your neck. As he sucked and nipped at the skin there, slowly, agonizingly slow he pushed into you. Your head fell back against the bed, a low moan escaping your lips.

You could feel every inch, your body stretching and adjusting to him. He filled you completely, the friction sending sparks of pleasure down your spine. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "Dean, please..," you whimpered.

"Please what, sweetheart?" He murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse with need. "You know you have to use your words."

"Move," you gasped, your body shaking with need. "Please, just.. just move. I need you to move."

He chuckled, the sound a mix of amusement and arousal. "Bossy, are we?" he teased. But there was a hint of satisfaction in his tone. He pulled back slightly, before slowly pushing back in. "Like this, baby?"

You gasped, your back arching against the sheets. "Yes," you managed to gasp, "Just like that, yes. Please, more."

He set a steady rhythm, his movements deep and sure. He knew exactly how to touch you, where to touch you, which spots made you shudder, which made you moan. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So damn tight," he groaned, his breath ragged. "You feel so fuckin’ amazing.”

His words, combined with the sensations he was eliciting, were almost too much. You were quickly unraveling beneath him, your body aflame with pleasure. You pulled him closer, your hands tangling in his hair, needing something to ground you.

"Look at you, sweetheart," he murmured, his mouth finding your ear. "You're so damn perfect like this. All needy and desperate for me."

His words sent a thrill down your spine, his tone filled with hunger. You could feel him everywhere, his body pressed against yours, his scent surrounding you. It was all too much and not enough. "Don't stop," you gasped, "Don't-ah - don't stop, please, f-faster."

He groaned at your words, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. He was losing control, his grip on you tightening. "You— you feel so damn good," he gasped, his forehead resting on your shoulder. "I'm not gonna last much longer angel, you're driving me insane."

You were close, the coils inside you about to snap. You needed more, you needed it to last just a bit longer, even though you didn't know if you could take it. But Dean knew what you needed, he was always so in sync with your body.

"Cum for me one more time sweetheart," he murmured in your ear, his voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you come all over me. I want to hear you say my name. Just let go for me, my beautiful girl."

And with his words, you were lost, your body seizing as pleasure washed over you. You gasped, your hands clutching at him, his name a strangled cry.

Dean felt you tighten around him, and it was too much, he bit down on your shoulder, his own release hitting him like a wave. He shuddered, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your flesh. "Fuck," he groaned, his voice hoarse. "Sweetheart, you're gonna make me cum again, ‘gonna cum all in you.”

It was then you felt it. He slowed, stilling, his body shaking slightly. He looked at you, his expression a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. "That.. that was…" he trailed off, his voice slightly raspy.

The room is still thick with heat, your body boneless against the mattress, breath coming in slow, uneven pulls. The last echoes of your moans still hang in the air, mixing with Dean’s heavy exhales as he finally— finally—collapses beside you.

For a moment, neither of you move. His arm is still hooked around your waist, his grip loose now, but his fingers are still there, brushing over your skin like he’s making sure you’re real. Like he’s not ready to let you go yet.

Then, in that low, raspy voice that makes your stomach flip, he murmurs, “You good, babe?”

You make a sound— half a hum, half a sigh— and barely manage to nod. That seems to be enough for him. He chuckles, voice still rough around the edges, and leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. “Yeah, I gotcha. Just breathe for me, baby.”

His hands move without thinking, smoothing over your back, tracing lazy circles into your skin, as if mapping out every place he touched, every mark he left. When his fingers ghost over a spot he might’ve grabbed too hard, he tuts under his breath. “Shit, hope I didn’t go too hard on you.” His lips follow where his hands were, warm and soft against your shoulder. “Might owe you a damn back rub after that one.”

Eventually, he grumbles and pulls away— just for a second—to grab the water bottle from the nightstand. He presses it into your hand, watching you with that lazy, smitten smile as you take a few slow sips. “There we go,” he murmurs, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face.

And then, without another word, he tugs you against his chest, settling you into the warmth of his body like you belong there. Like he needs you there.

His breath is warm against your hair as he mumbles, half-asleep already, “M’not moving. You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

So much for stealing a fucking flannel.

taglist; @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

#༊*·˚ wvyik #sofia writes ✎#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader smut #jensen ackles x reader #jensen fucking ackles #dean x you

143 notes · View notes