#considering i didn’t want to tip my hand by asking if you even. uh. like pink floyd

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - John Egan x OC

masterlist is here hope you guys are having the most wonderful christmas if you celebrate, and simply an incredible end to the year if you don't. love youuuu <3

29. A Future Like That

The sun today was warm. Summer was coming. Stella closed her eyes into the light and smiled as she embraced the heat burning in her cheeks.

Even with her eyes closed she could feel John’s eyes on her profile. Her smile widened as she sensed his kiss before he placed it on her temple and then, immediately after, on her cheek.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered against her skin, letting her feel the smile in his words, before he kissed her cheek again.

With a quiet laugh, Stella peeled open her eyes and turned to him, shifting slightly closer on the step they were sitting on. If anyone came out of the barracks right now the two of them would be very much in the way, but everyone else was much too engrossed in their letters.

Stella and John didn’t receive letters.

Today, they didn’t really mind.

John’s face was closer than Stella had anticipated. As she turned her head their noses knocked together. She laughed again when he took the opportunity to nuzzle into her, rubbing the tip of his nose up and down the bridge of hers.

She loved his particular brand of affection. She had known it for less than twelve hours and already she couldn’t imagine going without it ever again. She had never felt as alive as she did with his hands on her, had never known what it was to be truly seen until he’d looked at her.

Quickly, as though she thought he was liable to back away, she dipped down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, then giggled when he curled a hand around the back of her head while she was pulling away to pull her right back in again.

When he was thoroughly satiated, or else just conscious that it was still the middle of the day and, in spite of how the other POWs were inside, there were still guards in the towers who could see them, John let Stella sit back and watched with a tiny smile as she lowered herself to the step below and turned until she was kneeling between his legs. Resting her forearms on his thighs, she considered her crossed hands for a moment before resting her chin on top of them. “John?” she asked softly.

“Hm?” he hummed in reply, laying a hand on the back of her head and stroking her hair.

“Why doesn’t your family send you letters?”

John was quiet as he considered his answer but his hand kept stroking her hair.

Like a happy cat lying in a pool of sunlight by a window, Stella let her eyes fall shut and smiled as she let his gentle touch relax her.

“Me and my family,” John began after a while, “we’re, uh, not all that close anymore.”

“Why?” Stella wondered.

“My sisters are married and I guess my ma wanted me to settle down, too, and I didn’t.” He smiled wryly to himself as he looked down at the girl in his lap. If only Ma could see me now. “She didn’t like my drinking and she didn’t like me signing up to go be a pilot, either. I didn’t leave on the best of terms.”

Stella hummed her acknowledgement of this. “That doesn’t seem like a very good reason not to write you letters,” she pointed out. “Do they know you’re here?”

“They do,” he confirmed, though he declined to elaborate on how he knew that they knew. His hand just kept on stroking her hair.

“I’d write you letters,” Stella said idly, “if I wasn’t stuck here too.” She laughed softly as she recalled her early days at Tempsford. “I did write you letters, in fact. I just didn’t know where to send them.”

“Oh yeah?” John asked softly. She could hear his smile. “What’d they say?”

Smiling bashfully, Stella turned her face and nuzzled her cheek into his thigh. “Silly things,” she said. “I talked about my new job and my new friends and how much I missed you. And how I was scared that I’d never see you again.”

John considered this, smiling down at her even though she couldn’t see him. “I wish I could’ve read them,” he said quietly.

Ruefully, Stella smiled. “They still exist. They’re in my footlocker in my old bunk. Maybe one day, if I ever get my footlocker back, I’ll let you read them.”

“Yeah?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Stella confirmed. “If you’re good.”

John laughed.

Stella grinned.

“I don’t think my family would write me letters if they knew where I was, either,” she added after a beat. “But you’d write to me, wouldn’t you?”

“I did write to you,” he reminded her. “God knows who’s back at Thorpe Abbotts reading my love letters to you.”

Stella laughed, sitting up straight and peeling open her eyes to look at him. “Alice and Jessop, probably,” she said. “I hope they weren’t too scandalous.”

“Just some pictures of me in my underwear,” he replied casually.

“I bet Jessop enjoyed those,” Stella said.

John snorted, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger.

Stella grinned, tilting her face towards it.

“Where will home be for you after the war, do you think?” she wondered.

“Wherever home is for you,” he answered her without missing a beat.

Laughing, Stella rolled her eyes. “You’re such a flirt.”

“I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

“I would never tell you to.”

Now it was John who was grinning.

“Anyway,” she went on, “home for me doesn’t exist anymore, I don’t think. I’m not sure where my mum lives now, though I can’t imagine it’s the same place as when I left because I can’t see how she’d afford it without nine children bringing in money. But maybe she’s getting money from the government now that four of her sons are dead.”

“Stels,” John said softly.

“She hasn’t written to me since I left, anyway, so maybe I don’t want to go back,” Stella barrelled on mindlessly. “I think I want to go somewhere where I’m wanted instead.”

“Come home with me,” John said readily.

Stella quirked a brow at him. “Your family isn’t writing to you either.”

John rolled his eyes. “We’ll visit Wisconsin,” he explained, “and I’ll go apologise to my Ma and I’ll introduce you, and then we’ll go somewhere else. We’ll make a new home somewhere.”

“Where?” Stella asked, resting her chin back on her arms, gazing up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Wherever you want,” John replied, smiling adoringly down at her.

Stella smiled. “I’ve never been to America,” she pointed out. “You’re the expert.”

“City or country?” John inquired.

“City.” After spending so long stuck in prisons where she felt like the world was as small as a teacup, she longed to be thrown out into the world and reminded that it could be big, that it was big, that it was filled with millions of souls with lives and purposes of their own.

“That narrows it down,” John said, nodding. “How about New York?”

“That’s where the Yankees play, no?”

John’s answering smile was wide and lovestruck.

Stella laughed. “I listen when you talk, too, you know.”

“So New York?” John asked.

“New York,” Stella confirmed. She considered the prospect and, after a moment, added, “On the outskirts, maybe, so that during the day we can go into the city but at night we can see the stars.”

“Sounds perfect,” John declared.

Smiling, Stella rubbed her cheek against his thigh. “Will we get a dog?” she wondered at length.

“If you want.”

“I think maybe.” She set her gaze past the fence and into the expanse of nothingness beyond. “I wanted one when I was little.”

“Then we’ll get a dog.”

“A rescue,” Stella decided. “A dog no one else wants. Maybe one that’s been mistreated.” Slowly, her eyes lifted and sought John’s and found them already waiting for her. She smiled shyly. “Unwanted, mistreated dogs deserve homes, too,” she said softly.

His hand migrated from her hair to her cheek, cupping it delicately, rubbing his thumb over it. “A rescue dog,” he confirmed, equally as soft.

“The ugliest one we can find,” Stella went on.

John chuckled quietly. “What’ll we name him?”

“I’m bad with names. You decide.”

“I think we’ll have to wait to meet him before we give him a name,” John replied at length. “I think we’ll know when we see him.”

“Right,” she agreed. “Just as well as we’ll know he’s ours, we’ll know what his name is.”

“Right,” John confirmed in return.

“Maybe we can live close to an airfield,” Stella continued daydreaming, “so we can both still fly.”

“I’ll get a job there, maybe,” John added.

Stella smiled. “Maybe I will too.”

“I’ll take you out on dates every weekend,” John declared.

Laughing, Stella inquired, “Where to?”

“Lots of places. Bars and restaurants and baseball games and - and the zoo, so we can go meet some penguins.”

“That’ll be our dog’s name,” Stella decided, sitting up straight and grinning at him. “Penguin. The first thing we ever connected over.” When John had listened to her talk about birds and had asked about penguins, it was the first time she’d looked at him and really seen him, she felt. The first time anyone had looked at her and really seen her.

John’s smile was so wide his whole face was sharing in its joy, his eyes crinkling until they were almost closed, his eyebrows tilting upwards. “Penguin the dog,” he said. “What if he’s not black and white?”

Stella shrugged. “Who cares? He’s our dog.”

John laughed loudly. “You’re right,” he conceded. “You’re right. He’s our dog.” Leaning down as far as he could without folding himself completely in half on the stairs, he pressed a gentle kiss to Stella’s forehead and was still smiling when he withdrew. “I love him already,” he said, dipping to meet her eyes.

Stella already had her gaze fixed on him, wide and infatuated. “Me too,” she agreed.

When men started pouring out of the barracks to soak up the morning sunshine, Stella and John returned inside. Already, the evidence of recently read letters was clear in the additions to the room decor - new photographs had been pinned up beside beds, assorted gifts had been laid out on the table, and the telltale signs of letters from lovers were visible only in the edges of paper peeking out from beneath pillows.

It made Stella’s chest ache to think of John spending so many months here, having to sit and watch everyone else receive letters and pictures and gifts, knowing there was none coming for him. It wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t ever received his letters, no, but it made her sad all the same.

So, later that evening, while most of the men were playing some approximation of poker they’d invented over the last few months that Stella didn’t care to learn, she asked Crank, who wasn’t playing, if he would accompany her to the bathroom. And, when they were out in the hallway, she asked him to lead her to the recreation hall instead.

His face paled at being incriminated in a plan being kept deliberately secret from John.

Stella couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s only a secret because I want to make something for him,” she assured him quietly. “Something to hang beside our bed.” She did her best impression of puppy eyes as she appealed to him, “Please?”

Not ten minutes later, she found herself surrounded by unfamiliar men who took one look at her and looked immediately away, and subsequently pretended she wasn’t there.

Crank, to his credit, did his very best to look big and scary as he accompanied her over to a table strewn with paper and pencils, evidently for letter-writing purposes.

The table was empty but Crank tried to glower at the room anyway while he and Stella sat at it. He was doing his best to imitate John, Stella knew, and she tried valiantly to suppress her laughter and instead focus on what she was doing.

Twenty minutes later, she picked up her paper and turned it around to show Crank, asking, “What do you think?”

Crank looked between her and the paper like she’d just asked him to punch her in the face.

Stella huffed. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“No!” Crank hurried to exclaim. “No, it’s - it’s wonderful. He’s gonna love it.” He looked hard at her artwork and, try as he might, couldn’t seem to stop squinting. “It’s - what is it?”

“It’s me and John!” Stella exclaimed, laying the paper down on the table and starting to point out what she’d drawn. “Well, it’s us in the future. That’s me there and that’s John, and by our feet is our dog that we’re going to have - a rescue dog, of course. And behind us is our house and over here is the Statue of Liberty, because we’re going to live in New York.”

Crank raised his eyebrow, glancing between Stella and her drawing. “The Statue of Liberty is a woman,” he said.

Stella frowned. “What?”

Suddenly, Crank was laughing. “You’ve never seen the Statue of Liberty?”

“I’m British!”

“Not even in pictures?”

“No.”

Still, Crank was chuckling. “Why’d you think it was a man?”

“I don’t know!” Stella exclaimed.

“It’s a woman with a crown and a torch,” Crank informed her. “We call her Lady Liberty!”

“I didn’t know that!” Stella insisted.

Crank was cackling. “Oh, Bucky is gonna love this.”

“Shut up,” Stella snapped, snatching her drawing off the table. “Don’t tell him anything. This was a stupid idea.”

Instantly, Crank changed his tune, sobering up like he’d just had a bucket of ice water poured over his head. “No, hey, wait, I didn’t mean -”

“Tell him anything and you’re dead,” Stella snarled.

“Hey, no, come on,” Crank insisted, sitting forward. Try as Stella might to intimidate, he wasn’t scared of her. Now that he knew her, he knew that being scared of Stella was like being scared of a puppy. “It’s sweet,” he went on, forcing himself to hide his smile. “Stella, he’ll love it, I swear. You gotta give it to him.”

“Everyone will make fun of me,” Stella complained.

Crank smiled. He kept hold of her eyes even as he tentatively reached out and pried the drawing out of her hands. “No,” he assured her, “they won’t.” He laid the paper down on the table and picked up a stray pencil. “May I?”

With palpable suspicion, Stella nodded.

With a light hand, in case she wanted to erase his edits later, Crank started working to make her terribly inaccurate drawing of the Statue of Liberty as accurate to the real version as he could. He added the raised arm and the lit torch, added the crown amongst the hair she’d already drawn, and fashioned the clothes she’d drawn into the robes the real Lady Liberty wore.

“There,” he declared once he was finished. “What do you think?”

Stella took her time surveying these additions but after a while she nodded. “That’s what she looks like?” she asked, meeting Crank’s eyes. “The Statue of Liberty?”

Shrugging, Crank peered back down at the drawing with her. “More or less.”

“Is there anything wrong with the rest of it?” Stella inquired next.

As he stared down at the drawing she’d done, created with all the artistic technique of a toddler but with all the same passion, too, he was struck, for a moment, by this new version of Stella he’d met over the last few weeks. He had only known her in passing back at Thorpe Abbotts and largely only because everyone had marvelled at how Major Egan was in love with the aloof, standoffish ATA pilot who was equally as likely to bite as she was to roll over and welcome affection. Back then, he’d acknowledged her beauty but otherwise found the whole thing a little bit absurd; Bucky had no shortage of women lining up to be on his arm, so what did he see in this one who was always either shouting at him or else rejecting his every advance?

Now, he thought he knew. They were kindred spirits, Stella and Bucky, and there was no denying it. Both of them stray dogs in their own rights, both of them lonely and a little bit sad and desperately trying to hide it. Both of them hard on the outside and soft on the inside. Both of them floating around, searching for another soul to stick to. It was easy to see, looking at her now, why they’d chosen to stick to each other.

“It’s perfect,” Crank assured her at long last. It would have been perfect before, too, he realised now. Bucky was going to love it because she had done it - even more, because she had done it for him. Because she didn’t want him to be the only man in their bunk who didn’t have pictures to stick up on the wall next to his bed anymore. Because she wanted him to know he was loved.

It was with all the air of a bashful child that Stella trailed Crank back to the bunk a short while later. The whole walk back she tried to come up with reasons not to give the drawing to John - “It’s bad and it’s stupid and it’s childish. He’s going to think I’m a child. Such a stupid idea. Why did you even let me go through with it?” - and in the end Crank took the drawing out of her hands.

“You don’t wanna give it to him?” he asked, exhausted, as they stood outside the door.

Stella’s shoulders slumped with relief at the way out he was giving her. “No.”

“Then I will,” he said, and promptly turned and pushed into the room. “Bucky,” he called as he entered.

“Crank!” Stella complained, shutting the door loudly behind her.

“Stella made something for you,” he went on, heedless of her protest.

“You’re such a snitch!” Stella accused, rushing up behind him and reaching for the drawing.

“What is it?” John asked, already on his feet, already grinning.

“It’s nothing,” Stella said. “It was a stupid idea. Crank, give me it!”

Crank only laughed as he batted Stella’s hands away and passed the drawing to John.

Stella stopped fighting when she saw it was too late and John was already looking at it. Her cheeks were in flames as she shot an accusatory glare at Crank and then at the men at the table, all of them looking up at the exchange. “Mind your own business,” she told them, then stomped off to her bed to sulk.

For the next couple of minutes she wouldn’t stop fidgeting, her ears burning every time she glanced up and caught an accidental glimpse of John staring down at her silly, childish drawing. But she went still when he came to sit next to her on the bed, turning her face indignantly to the window.

“Stels,” John said softly.

Stella frowned without turning to look at him. “What?”

“You drew this for me?” he asked, speaking quietly so the others would know not to listen.

Again, her whole face was on fire with the intensity of her blush. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s us,” John corrected. “Right? Us once we get out of here, when we live in New York.”

Stella hesitated as she considered her response. After a moment, she sighed and abruptly turned to face him on the bed. “I didn’t like that you were the only man in here who didn’t have any pictures to put up on the wall,” she said in a hurry. “That’s all.”

Inexplicably, John was smiling at her. Reaching out a hand to her face, he tenderly pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “It’s beautiful, Stels,” he told her earnestly. “Thank you.”

Ducking her gaze, Stella hemmed and hawed. “It’s silly,” she mumbled.

“It’s perfect,” he corrected. “I love it.”

In one fell swoop, Stella sighed out all of her breath and collapsed forward to lean all of her weight into him, tucking her face into his neck. “You don’t think it’s childish?” she fretted, her voice muffled into his skin.

John’s smile was audible. “No,” he replied easily, “I think it’s cute.”

“It’s not cute,” Stella objected, “it’s impressionist.” She didn’t really know what that meant, didn’t actually know who the impressionists were, but she’d heard Lucky talking about them once and thought it sounded funny.

It made John laugh all the same.

“Alright, Monet,” he said, chuckling, turning his face to press a kiss into her hair. “You gonna help me pin it up or what?”

Stella scoffed. “I do the drawing and now you want me to put it up, too? What am I, your personal assistant?”

“You’re my Stels,” John answered with a grin.

With a tiny, quiet laugh, Stella sat up.

Immediately, John cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. Then he leaned sideways and laid the drawing against the wall beside them, shifting it up and down and left and right as he decided where to place it. “Here?” he asked eventually when he had it poised somewhere in the middle.

“Wherever you want,” Stella told him. “It’s your drawing.”

John grinned and left the bed to go and find some leftover pins, returning once he’d found four.

Stella sat back and watched idly as he carefully pinned her drawing to the wall, her heart aching at the tenderness with which he smoothed down the paper. It was such a stupid drawing and yet he was touching it like it was priceless.

She had to look away.

This future she’d drawn for them, the one they’d talked about - she wanted it so badly she could hardly bear it. She hoped so desperately that one day it would be hers. A house on the outskirts of New York, a rescue dog, and John. Was it too bold to dare to imagine she deserved a future like that?

[oscartwofoxtrot]

Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?

A gift for my dearest Secret Santa recipient, @jenkil

[theemporium]

[1.7k] an early morning birthday treat for your boyfriend hours before the rest of the world needs either of you. (smut)

we are gonna ignore the fact i accidentally hit the post limit yesterday and pretend i actually posted this on his birthday

.

“Good morning, birthday boy.” 

Oscar let out a small hum of acknowledgement, a small smile working its way onto his face but he didn’t bother opening his eyes. Instead, he wound his arm around your waist and tugged you down until you were collapsing down on his chest. He sighed happily, nuzzling himself further against you whilst you wiggled in his embrace. 

“You’re ruining your birthday,” you commented, trying to nudge his arm away so you could sit back up. But Oscar didn’t budge a bit.

“It’s my birthday,” he grumbled, his voice still laced with sleep and his accent coating his slurred words a little thicker than normal. “I get to choose what we do and I choose sleeping.”

“That’s boring,” you retorted, twisting in his hold until you were facing him. You reached a hand out, pushing his hair back until you got an unrestricted view of his face squished against the pillow. 

“I happen to like boring birthdays.” 

You snorted, smiling fondly as you leaned down to press a kiss on the tip of his slightly scrunched nose. “You’re not even going to ask what I planned?” 

“If it includes leaving this bed before I have to head to the track, then I’m not interested,” Oscar mumbled, letting out a sigh as your nails began to scratch along his scalp. “I’m quite happy here. Very content. Very happy birthday boy.”

“And if I said your birthday plans start in bed?” 

Oscar paused for a moment. “I’m listening.”

You grinned, lightly poking his cheek until his eyes slowly fluttered open. “Hey.”

He flashed you a lazy smile. “Hi, baby.”

“Happy birthday,” you murmured before you leaned down, pressing a soft but lingering kiss on his lips. 

“Definitely happy,” he hummed in response, huffing a little when you pushed his shoulder so he was lying on his back. “You’re awfully bossy this morning.”

“You like it,” you teased, throwing one leg over his body until you were settled on his lap. In seconds, his hands were on your waist like the reaction was instinctive. 

“Maybe,” he replied, though the light pink painting his cheeks gave him away. His thumbs lightly swiped along your hip bones, slowly pushing the material of your (his) shirt up until he was met with bare skin. “I have to be at the track by ten.”

“It’s only seven,” you retorted.

“That means we could have had a solid two more hours of sleep,” he pointed out, his eyes still a bit bleary from sleep. He was just grateful enough that one of you remembered to pull the curtains shut last night. “You know, cuddling is good for dopamine and stuff.”

Your lips twitched. “Dopamine and stuff?”

“You woke me up five minutes ago, give me a break,” Oscar grumbled, squeezing your hips to emphasise his point. 

“I know something else that would be good for your dopamine and stuff,” you said, grinning a little as you leaned down to peck his lips. “Something for the birthday boy.”

“You keep saying that but—oh shit.”

You watched his eyes flutter shut, his grip on you tightening as you rolled your hips against his. You ducked your head down, lips pressing chaste, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck as you felt his skin flush under your touch. You felt his thumping pulse pounding, could feel the way his body was reacting to you. 

It was fucking intoxicating. 

“Do you still wanna go back to sleep?” You questioned, your voice teasing and a little patronising as you nipped the skin just below his ear.

“Nuh uh,” he breathed out, shaking his head in response. “This is good. This is better.”

You grinned against his skin.

And maybe it was still-half-asleep brain or maybe Oscar just didn’t want to assume, but he wasn’t really expecting more. It was still painfully early for either of you to be awake right now, especially considering how late you had managed to get to the hotel. And he was honestly more than happy to have this, to have his girl on top of him. To have your hands and your lips and your pretty words. To just have you. 

He wasn’t thinking about where it was leading, he was just stuck in the present moment of you, you, you.

His brain hadn’t even fully caught up until your kisses started moving lower, until a few chaste kisses along his collarbone started to move further down his chest. 

“Babe,” he rasped, his head still a little fuzzy with sleep as your breath fanned over the muscles of his stomach.

“Shhh, relax f’me, Osc,” you murmured between soft kisses, fingers tugging the edge of his boxers down as the urge to mark along his v-line overwhelmed you. 

“I—” But the words were lost in the back of his throat as the heel of your palm pressed against the bulge in his boxers, your lips mouthing at the sensitive skin along his hips. 

His eyes fell shut, his head digging back into the pillow as he let himself enjoy every single inch of his body that was being touched by you. The way his hips bucked against your hand, the front of the fabric already wet and stained with precome as you marked pretty bruises on his pale skin. The way your body settled between his thick thighs, nails grazing along his skin until he was squirming and whining underneath you. The way every cell in his body was just so, so responsive to you. 

A guttural moan escaped the back of his throat as you mouthed along his clothed cock, licking a thick strip over the fabric of his boxers as he helplessly buckled beneath your touch. He didn’t think a single thought in his head was about anything but you. He didn’t think he wanted to think about anything else but you. 

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs and throwing them somewhere off the edge of the bed, neither one of you all too bothered where it landed. Instead, you took his hard cock in your hand, not wasting a second before you sucked the tip in your mouth, lapping at the small beads of precome that were already leaking.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathed out, his hips bucking further into your mouth but your other hand kept his body planted on the mattress. 

He was fucking helpess. 

He was fucking helpess and he didn’t give two shits about anything other than you. 

There was a vague voice in the back of his head reminding him that it was early, that they had neighbours, that those neighbours were colleagues of his. But it was a passing thought at best for Oscar as he squirmed and wiggled and writhed beneath your touch. It was a problem for future Oscar to deal with. 

And it wasn’t often Oscar was vocal, not like this. But he was sleepy and caught off-guard and, fuck, your mouth just felt like heaven wrapped around his cock. He couldn’t help himself with the whimpers and moans he let out, your name like a mantra as it left his lips on a broken loop. 

Because Oscar Piastri was a weak man when it came to you. 

And when he lifted his head off the pillow to finally look down at you, he about lost whatever semblance of control he had left.

Your hands were placed on his thighs, your nails digging into his skin but the pain was biting and welcomed. Your cheeks were hallowed around his dick, a mix of come and drool leaking from the edges but it just made his stomach twist with a deep desire that he knew would haunt his fantasies for months to come. Your lips were red and swollen, your eyes were glossy and hooded and, fucking hell, the second he met your gaze, it was over for him. 

His hands were gripping the sheets of the duvet beneath him as he came, the pleasure white and hot and overwhelming in every sense of the word. He felt it all over like a hot flush, dancing along his nerve endings and racing down his spine as his body bucked upwards to be closer to you, your mouth, your everything. He was distantly aware of the little whiny noises he made as he came, the ones that were half muffled as he buried his face into his pillow as his orgasm washed over him whilst you lapped at his sensitive cock. 

He couldn’t really find it in himself to be embarrassed when he finally turned back to look at you, seeing you slowly lick your fingers clean from the cum that had leaked out your mouth with a huge grin on your face.

“You’re a menace,” was all he managed to breathe out, throwing his arm over his face to try and recover from mind blowing orgasm and the sight of you shamelessly tasting him. 

“Happy birthday,” you replied cheerfully, crawling back up the bed until you could press a chaste kiss on his cheek before nuzzling yourself against him. “Good start to twenty-three?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I think you might’ve killed me.”

“At least you died young, pretty and satisfied,” you joked, feeling his chest rumble beneath you and it made your stomach twist with something quite like delight. 

“And in love,” he added, his words a little slurred and his cheeks burning a little at his own cheesiness. But it still made you grin.

“I love you too, Osc,” you murmured back.

“I was talking about those sushi rolls we had last night, but yeah I love you too,” he murmured, letting out a short pained noise when you pinched his side. “Ow! What happened to birthday boy privileges?”

“Those ended with the blowjob,” you retorted. “You’re back to normal Oscar now.”

“Hm, that seems a little unfair,” Oscar commented as he wound his arms around your body, hugging you close to his chest like the two of you could melt into one person. 

“Tragic life of being twenty-three,” you teased.

Oscar smiled. “Thank you, seriously.” 

You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. “Did you just thank me for a blowjob?”

The sleepy smile returned. “Yeah, pretty sure I just did.”

“Never beating the polite cat allegations,” you said, lighthearted and sweet and joking as you leaned down to kiss him. “Never change, birthday boy.”

“Never in a million years, baby.” 

.

[pathologicalreid]

next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.  

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

part two

[girlgenius1111]

close to you part 4

alexia putellas x leila ouahabi x jenni hermoso x reader a third installment of the orgy fic: rush by @vixwritesagain [all chapters + all OOYG chapters linked on her masterlist] r executes jenni's plan. smut. 18+

–

You made a point of kissing Leila the second she slid the door shut behind her. She made the cutest confused sound but was quick to loosen up. An apology was on the tip of your tongue until Jenni pulled you away and pushed you in the direction of the door.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stepped outside. You fiddled with the strap of your bikini, pretending to inspect the pool until you didn’t feel Alexia’s hawkish gaze anymore. 

Only when her guard was down did you make your move. “Alexia?” 

The blonde jolted at the call, clearly not expecting you to speak to her without the reassuring presence of your girlfriend. Still, she turned to look at you, raising her eyebrows. 

“Am I getting a tan line?” You asked innocently, yanking the strap down over your shoulder. 

Alexia studied you through her dark sunglasses, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. After a moment, she nodded her head. “A little.” 

You sighed dramatically, reaching around to the back of your bikini, and pulling at the strings. Admittedly, you didn’t try very hard to untangle the knot, but you also knew Jenni had made sure it wouldn’t undo easily. You turned towards your captain again, fighting back a smile when you saw both Jenni and Leila peeking at the two of you through the kitchen window. 

“Alexia?” You called again. 

She didn’t startle this time, slowly turning her head to look at you. Her body was tense, likely surprised at the way you were suddenly boldly addressing her when you’d been avoiding her the whole trip. You stood up, walking over to her chair and standing close enough that Alexia had to crane her neck to look up at you. 

“Can you untie this knot? I want to even out my tan.” 

The blonde nodded, still expressionless, though her hands twitched in her lap. You sat on the edge of her chair, turning your back to her and pulling your hair out of the way. 

Though barely able to feel Alexia’s fingers on your skin, you could feel her pull at the knot, gently at first. A sigh, then a harder tug. 

“Who tied this?” She wondered, though her tone made her suspicion clear. 

You turned around quickly to face her. She froze, so still it didn’t even seem as though she was breathing. 

“I think Jenni got into my swimsuits.” You said, letting your eyes flicker to her lips from her sunglasses. 

She stared when your hands came up to pull the sunglasses off her face. You placed them onto the pool deck. 

It was odd, considering how nervous you’d been around the other woman for the past several days, how easily it was coming to you. It was as if you knew what would affect her before you even did it, knew to grab her hand and lace your fingers with hers. Her hand was warm, and so much larger than yours. You squeezed it before leaning closer. 

“You- uh, you could take it off over your head.” Alexia suggested, trying to take control of the situation. 

“Or… you could?” You replied.

Alexia blinked. You understood, then, what Jenni had been saying. Alexia really was convinced you weren’t interested.  

“I could?” She repeated, finding a bit of confidence as she rested her free hand on your thigh. 

“You don’t want to?” You teased.

It wasn’t often you got to see Alexia so caught off guard, so nervous, and you relished in it. She did want you, and that thought was filling you with confidence. 

“You… want me to?” She questioned, the softness and insecurity of her voice making you melt. 

“I really want you to.” You told her, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. You let your hand linger on her cheek. “I’ve missed you, Ale.” 

Her eyes widened as she leaned into your hand. “Oh.” 

You rolled your eyes, running your thumb across her cheekbone. “Tonta. How could I not?” 

The blonde’s lip curled upward before you pressed your lips to hers. 

Alexia kissed back tenderly, though it only stayed soft and gentle for a moment. The blonde seemed to remember who she was, one hand sliding up your thigh and squeezing at your hip, the other pulling away from yours to grip at the back of your neck. Gone was insecure, timid Alexia, replaced with the version that wanted to do all your thinking for you. 

A flick of her wrist, and the ties around your neck fell loose. Though you had to ignore the instinct, you didn’t try to cover up this time. You shifted closer, coaxed by her strong hands until she pulled your thigh over hers. The lounger wasn’t the most stable, but comfort wasn’t the priority. 

It was just her. The smooth heat of her, the relentlessness of her tongue, the harsh breaths she brushed along your skin. 

Already you could feel yourself tingling, desperate for her touch. Alexia seemed content enough when you settled on top of her, slowing the pace to filthy, deep kisses which made you whine against her lips. 

Your hands stroked back stray hairs and caressed her cheeks to keep her close. Her hands were far less delicate. 

You could feel her fingers dancing along the side of your thighs until they cupped your ass. A firm squeeze to pull your cunt firmly against her. Alexia touched you like she owned you. With every little sound she drew, you could feel her smile against your lips. 

It was only when her hands cupped your bare chest that your answering gasp was too delicious to kiss through. “Ale,” you breathed, “I wanted…” 

“Dime.” Her wet lips were so close, and there was real temptation to just keep kissing her and forget the whole thing. 

“I was thinking about you.” 

“Sí?” 

“And the first time.” 

Alexia’s eyes sparkled, but she just hummed back at you. 

“You said you wanted my mouth.” 

Alexia shifted, reaching up to drag her thumb over your bottom lip. “Yes.” 

“I want that. So much. Can I..?”

“Sí,” Alexia breathed, pupils blown wide even as she tried to keep her face composed. 

You kissed her again before glancing down. Hard muscle and her very bare chest. Her skin felt hot when you bent down to mouth at her neck. You could feel her hands mapping out every part of you, then settling back on the knot at your back. 

You’d only just licked at her nipple when the band suddenly loosened. Alexia made a triumphant noise, pulling away your top unceremoniously. 

Maybe it was too soon, but your hands had a mind of their own. They reached for her hips, slipping around her waistband. 

A gentle push to your shoulder made you straighten up immediately.

“You first.” Alexia mumbled, and while she met your eye, she couldn’t contain the pinkness of her cheeks. 

Without a thought, you shimmied off her until you could strip off the rest of the bikini. Yet when you moved to cover her body with yours again, Alexia’s stoicism had returned. 

“On your knees.” She ordered. 

And maybe you hadn’t fully thought through the logistics of the sun lounger, but sore knees felt like a small price to pay. You were careful scooting back and lowering yourself to the ground. 

Alexia didn’t waste time sliding down till her feet touched the floor. You took in the spread of her legs as she leaned over. To meet her kiss, you had to tilt your head back. If the hand which wrapped around your throat was any indication, that’s exactly what Alexia wanted. 

No sooner had she pulled away than she moved to strip herself too. You stayed quiet as she dropped her bikini to the side, then spread her legs once more. 

“You’re so pretty.” You breathed, just incase any part of her self-consciousness lingered. Besides, she was so pretty, all tan skin and wet.

“Shh,” her hand threaded through your hair. 

You leaned forward eagerly, stroking along her thighs and kissing at the inside of them. It’s not that you meant to tease, just that you’d been thinking about it for so long, and now, with her cunt not five inches away, it was hard to know where to start. 

Alexia let you get three kisses in before her grip tightened. “Más rápido, o voy a buscar a alguien más.” She complained.  

“Find someone else.” You scoffed, pulling away just a fraction, “You don’t want anyone else.” 

Your eyes flicked up to her after you spoke, cheeks heating up at your own words. It still wasn’t a statement you felt overly confident in, but the almost proud look on Alexia’s face told you that you’d said the right thing. 

“Tu español está mejorando.” 

Rather than let her see you blush even more, you chose that moment to lean forwards. 

You had every intention of precise, measured movements. You were going to make her come, and come hard because you had a point to prove. If she’d been thinking about this for as long as you had, you couldn’t disappoint her. 

As soon as your eyes fell shut and you pressed the first light kiss to her core, your desire to impress her fell away. Instead, you were drawn in by the taste of her, the smell, the shift of her muscles under your hands and the sighed exhales coming every few seconds. 

You spread her wider, licking at the wetness that had gathered between her legs. Alexia’s face never gave much away, but her pussy was a different story. Wet and hot, the evidence of her attraction to you was exactly what your ego needed. 

With her hand in your hair, you let her guide you up to her clit. You licked slowly, dragging your tongue through her folds and humming when she tilted her hips for you. “There,” she supplied breathily when you teased at it. 

As tempting as it was to torture her, or at least try, there was simply nothing you wanted more than to feel her come for you. If the gentle buck of her hips was any indication, she felt the same. 

“More,” she demanded. 

You blinked your eyes lazily to bask in her, all spread out. Alexia was so gentle when she stroked your hair back, gathering as much of it as she could to hold you against her. 

You licked more firmly at her, before taking her clit into your mouth and sucking. She let out a strangled sound that was somewhere between a whine and a moan, and it took everything in you not to slide your hand between your own legs. 

Instead, you brought your hand to her core, nudging at her entrance with one of your fingers. You sat back for just a second to find the angle.

“Wait,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll come. Too fast.” 

Another lick, just to enjoy the way she tried to swallow her sounds.  “I want you to come.” 

Alexia hummed, but her hand let go of your hair as you dove back in enthusiastically. You worked a finger into her slowly, in and out, bit by bit, fighting a wide grin when she gasped at the feeling. You could feel when she shifted to her elbows, one heel resting on your back.

“More.” She directed, losing the fight against her body’s instinct to grind down on your face. Her hips canted in time with your mouth. Without thinking too much, you teased a second finger against her. 

“I thought it was too fast?” You mumbled, not bothering to pull away to speak. Alexia’s body jerked at the vibration of your voice against her. 

“I-thought you… wanted me to come,” she replied, voice a touch more breathless now. 

Having your mouth occupied was both the best and the worst feeling. The best, because her hand found the back of your neck, holding you against her rocking hips as her quiet moans grew more and more frequent. The worse, because you longed to talk to her. To hear what felt good, and to kiss her in between pants. 

As it were, you worked a second finger in with the same care as the first. The angle wasn’t ideal, nor was the way you were kneeling at the foot of her lounger, leaning forward to adjust for her squirming. 

Yet none of it mattered. Your tongue flicked over her clit, your groan caused her gasp, and your free hand reached up to blindly grope at her chest. You pinched her nipple, curling your fingers inside of her at the same time. You could feel how she clenched, both around your fingers and with her thighs around your head. 

“Sí, así,” Alexia breathed, the closest thing to pleading you’d heard from her. “Don’t stop.” 

There was no way. Not with her fucking herself against your face, holding you tight while you sucked and fingered her higher. 

You knew it was going to come before it happened, but that didn’t make it any less of a prize. Her hips grew erratic and desperate towards the end, her fingers pushed up and tightened around your roots. Alexia was quiet, but in the tranquility, every little whimper she let out was amplified. 

From your place on the floor, you couldn’t watch like you wanted to, and yet your chest still bloomed with affection as she shivered. You changed nothing, working her through until she twitched. Had it not been for the pull to your hair, you would have kept going for a second round, if not a third. 

“Dios.” She panted, lying still as you stroked soothing hands over her waist. 

“I know what that means too.” You teased, shifting to kiss at her thighs instead. 

Her fingers unlaced themselves from your hair. You leaned back, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. Alexia sat up too, leaning over to kiss you.  With gentle coaxing, you rose to your feet with a wince. 

“Okay?” She murmured, raising one hand to block the sun from her eyes. Her other curved around the back of your thigh, pulling you to stand between her legs. 

You immediately held your hand up to shade her face. “Good. Just my knees.” 

Frowning at the redness of them, Alexia ran her thumb gently over the irritated skin. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your stomach, before she rose to her feet and grabbed your hand in hers. You moved towards the house, blissfully uncaring that you were completely nude. 

“Think they made lunch?” Alexia wondered, a fond look on her face that told you she knew just how orchestrated the past half hour had been. 

“Nope. It’s fine, though. I just ate.” You grinned at her, relishing in the snort she let out. It was the first laugh you’d gotten from her while she wasn’t actively in you, the first laugh that wasn’t really teasing. 

Alexia slid the door open, her hand finding the small of your back, gently nudging you inside first. Your skin tingled where she touched you, but there wasn’t much time to linger in the newfound closeness you shared. 

Even without seeing the trail of bikini tops and bottoms leading you right to your girlfriends, the sounds coming from just a few feet away told you exactly what Jenni and Leila had gotten up to. 

The striker had your girlfriend bent over the kitchen counter, her hand buried between Leila’s thighs. The defender was mid gratuitous moan when she noticed you both walk in, a dazzling smile lighting up her face. 

“Bebé!” Leila said excitedly. 

Jenni withdrew her hand from your girlfriend, bringing her fingers up to her lips to clean them off. 

“Hi Lei. Having fun?” You chuckled, leaning back against Alexia as her arm wound around your abdomen and pulled you closer into her. 

“Sí! Jenni's fingers. You know!” 

Jenni moved back, allowing Leila to straighten up. She looked between you and Alexia, her eyebrows raised. 

“So? Whose room?” 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly and moved towards the hall, pulling Alexia behind you. “Yours. You already almost broke the bed the other day, we might as well limit the damage to one room.” You’d only just gotten the words out when Leila rushed past you, sliding across the hardwood floor into the room you shared. 

“I’ll get our toys!” She shouted. 

“Do you need help finding- oh!” You yelped as Alexia’s arms swept you up, carrying you into her room and gently dumping you on the bed. Jenni slipped in behind, stroking over her girlfriend’s waist affectionately. 

Both her and Alexia eyed you from the edge of the bed. 

“Leila can find the toys.” Jenni dismissed as she crawled next to you and began to dust kisses over your neck. Alexia was soon to join her, bending down to mouth at your shoulder. You heard when Leila entered the room. Knowing the size of the bag she’d packed, you came to the conclusion that the rest of the trip would be rather single-minded. 

—

Freshly showered, Leila was quick to dry your hair before shooing you away to bed so she could finish her own. You’d tried to draw it out - taking far too long to brush your teeth - but as much as you liked watching her, the comfort of a soft mattress called. Besides, there were only so many times you could hear her gentle reassurance about how much she loved the evening’s activities before the guilt ate away at you. By the time you felt her slide in beside you and switch off the light, you were already cozy. 

Still, you reached for her immediately, tangling your hands with hers before raising one to kiss at it. In the fresh darkness, you could see nothing. But you could feel her gaze searching you out too. 

“I was mean to you today,” you breathed. 

Leila shifted closer, until you could feel the heat of her legs curling along yours. “You were?”

“You asked if I was okay and I brushed you off.” 

A moment, then a gentle squeeze to your hand. “Hmm.” One of the most frustrating things about Leila was her ability to shut up right when you wanted her to talk most. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Were you jealous, bebé? I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

In the darkness, you shook your head because of course she’d try and take the blame. “No. Well yes. Actually. But it was just a lot of things.” “Hmm.” 

“Jenni was being snippy and Alexia wouldn’t look at me, and then I didn’t have you to talk about it with.”

You could feel her breath against your joined hands before she kissed your knuckles. “I understand. I was going to follow you but Jenni said she would.”

“Yeah.” 

Untangling her hand with yours, Leila sat up. As your eyes adjusted, you could see the outline of her. 

“Are you okay now?”

You grinned up at her, thinking back on the last few hours and stroking her hair back to no avail. “I’m good. I’m tired. But I love you.” 

Leila was quick to shift down the bed, snuggling against your side with her arm curved around your waist. She gave you a moment’s peace before you felt her grin. “And you had a very good talk with Jenni, sí?” 

“A good talk,” you giggled, “just talking. What about you? Did you do much talking?”

“None.” She purred proudly. “Just watched you outside.”

And, since you could tell she wanted you to, you gave Leila a step-by-step on how the day had evolved. 

“So confident,” she cooed as you recounted the time spent by the sunlounger. “We should sleep bebè. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a big day.” 

“I’m not tired,” you breathed back, though your hand felt heavy stroking through her soft hair, “and we haven’t talked all day. I missed you.” 

“Shh. Tomorrow.” And when Leila nuzzled in a little more, there was no arguing with her. 

—

Jenni was already half asleep by the time Alexia finally stepped out of the bathroom. The blonde was clad in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that had a 10 proudly displayed on the thigh, pajamas that had been laid out on the bathroom counter for her by her girlfriend. 

Alexia slid under the covers, a soft hum coming from the woman next to her as a pair of arms wrapped tightly around Alexia’s midsection, pulling her closer. Jenni nuzzled her face into the midfielder’s neck, inhaling the sweet, clean scent that always seemed to follow her girlfriend around. 

“Te amo.” She mumbled sleepily, blinking one eye open when she didn’t get a response. “Te amo!” 

Alexia rolled her eyes fondly. Even though darkness shrouded her girlfriend’s face, she could clearly picture the pout on Jenni’s lips. Instead of giving the response she knew the striker wanted and allowing them both to drift off, she twisted in Jenni’s arms and exhaled sharply. 

“You talked to her, no?” 

With a groan, Jenni rolled onto her back, sitting up slightly as she realized Alexia wasn’t going to let her sleep before they discussed the events of the day. She reached to the nightstand, flicking the lamp on and squinting at her girlfriend for a moment before answering. 

“I did.” 

Her suspicions confirmed, Alexia’s nostrils flared and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you not to. I wanted her to come to me.” 

“Amor, she did come to you. And then you came to her,” Jenni smirked, sobering quickly when Alexia continued to stare accusingly at her. 

“After you talked to her.” 

“Ale, I–”

“I asked you not to, and you didn’t listen.” The blonde said stubbornly. 

Jenni sighed dramatically, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “Alexia, I know you both very well, and you both were overthinking. I didn’t tell her to go out there to you, or to have sex with you, that’s what she wanted to do. I told her to make a decision and be clear about what she wanted because the mixed signals were hurting you and–” 

“That’s why you did it?” Alexia interrupted, staring open mouthed at her girlfriend. “Because I was upset? Not because you wanted it and were tired of waiting?” 

Jenni looked at Alexia incredulously. “Of course that’s why. I can be patient, amor, but I don’t like seeing you sad, especially not when I can fix it.” 

“Oh.” Alexia murmured, her body sinking down seemingly of its own accord to curl into Jenni’s. 

“Tonta.” Jenni sighed, turning the lamp back off and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. “I yell at her for you, you get the sex you’ve been wanting all week, but I’m in trouble.” 

Her voice was teasing, warm with affection as she carded her fingers through Alexia’s hair. 

“You yelled?” Alexia wondered, feeling oddly protected at the thought of the normally easy going woman being so serious for her. 

“Mmm. A little bit.” Jenni amended. 

The lightest of kisses was pressed to Jenni’s cheek before Alexia’s face nudged into its spot against the striker’s neck. 

“Thank you.” Alexia mumbled softly, her words barely more than a soft puff of air on Jenni’s neck, yet she heard her all the same. “Te amo.” 

—

🙂

[stevesgother]

I Don't Want You Like A Bestfriend - S.H

Pairing - Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 2.3k

Warnings - mentions of anxiety, reader not liking large gatherings, swearing, alcohol (reader works at a bar). As always, let me know if I missed anything!

AN - Part 2 of the Dress mini series! This could technically be a standalone fic, but for the full context I would recommend reading part 1 :) 

Dress Series - Pt 1, Pt 2

December 1987

2 bowls of popcorn and 4 movies later, you’re laying on opposite ends of your twin bed with your best friend; gossiping lazily with droopy eyelids.

“I cannot go to their wedding without a date, Rob.” looking at her exasperated, “That’s like, totally embarrassing! Steve’s gonna have this Madonna-ey, bombshell blonde and with giant boobs and I'm gonna bring who? My cousin? Not happening.” You say with finality.

“Well forgive me,” Robin deadpans. “I only know like,” She gestures dramatically, trying to count in her head, “7 boys!”

May 1985

Immediately upon opening your eyes, you’re met with the blinding pain of your too big brain bouncing around inside your skull and a foreboding sense of dread upon recalling the way you behaved the night before.

You could only remember bits and pieces of the wretched night, but you were humiliated nonetheless. Had you said something you shouldn’t have? Your stomach churns at the thought and briefly you fear you might yak again.

A few weeks later, you were walking the stage, diploma in hand. Steve had broken up with Nancy Wheeler the week following prom. Feigning some bullshit about him leaving for college; not wanting to do long distance. Those cliche, overused excuses that everyone knows loosely translate to “I don’t love you anymore.”

Steve didn’t even get into tech, unbeknownst to Nancy. He was dodgy when you asked him about their breakup. “I just felt like we didn’t make sense anymore, you know? But it-” he sighed, “it’s just, it’s not like I could say that to her.” 

You didn’t want to push the subject further, despite your bewilderment. Part of you felt desperately guilty at the idea that you may have been the catalyst for what happened to their relationship. You didn’t dare ask, though. Maybe you didn’t want to know, or maybe you just didn’t want to make it about yourself. 

December 1987

The Wandering Dog was especially busy tonight. Folks trying to escape their in-laws for a few hours during the holiday season, college kids home for break trying to get wasted; and all of it was your problem. The pay was nice, you made good tips bartending. Right as you watch someone knock over an entire tray of drinks, a familiar head of hair makes its way to sit in front of you at the bar. Distracting, but not enough to suppress the groan that leaves your throat when it dawns on you that those drinks are your mess to clean up later.

“Steve-o,” you force a smile at him, “what can I do for ya on this..lovely evening?”

“Can’t a guy visit his favorite lady without needing a reason?” He lilts.

You try not to let on how flustered you feel at his usage of ‘favorite lady’. 

“You hate this bar, you’re also technically banned-” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand “Still? Seriously? It was one time-” Your turn to interrupt, “No actually, year prior? That was your first warning.” You’re met with a roll of the eyes, forgetting how utterly sassy he’s become in the last few years. You can’t decide whether you love or hate the development.

“I actually uh,” he runs a hand through his hair- a nervous habit, “I wanted to ask you something,”. You look at him quizzically, unable to pinpoint what's caused such a sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Okay…” you draw out the last syllable, more confused than unkind. “Spill it Hairspray, you’re kind of freaking me out.” you give an awkward chuckle. Your friendship is hardly what you’d consider serious. Sure, you’ve had your share of late night, existential conversations; but you can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve made the other actually nervous.

He clears his throat, “sorry yeah, sorry. I was wondering uh, ifyouwouldbemydatetojoyceandhopperswedding.”

The rest of his sentence comes out as one jumbled word. You do a double take when you finally process what he’s asking, and you choke a little on the Coke you were sipping. “What?-”

“-As friends!” he blurts loudly as his hands shoot out in front of him in a defensive gesture, “obviously, as friends. That’s- what I meant.” his words lose confidence every time he opens his mouth.

You stare for a little too long, mouth hanging open like a trout. “You don’t..already have a date?” You hope he doesn’t take offense to the inquiry. Steve Harrington can most certainly find a plus one to a simple wedding.

“Yeah I- something like that,” his mouth opens like he’s going to explain further before deciding against it; settling on a lopsided smile instead. He’s terrified he’s blown his cover. If he had given any effort at all to the endeavor, surely he would’ve been able to find a date. Fancy car, rich parents, million dollar smile and his infallible charm. The problem was that he didn’t want to go with another Heidi. Another Jessica. Another Stacy.

He wanted to go with you.

Even if it meant just as friends. You two were just friends.

-

Joyce and Hopper’s wedding was at Pokagon State Park, and the drive up was less than stellar. 3 hours stuffed inside a cramped BMW with Robin, Eddie, and Vickie. You were fortunate enough to be riding shotgun next to Steve for the trip, Eddie muttering something about ‘date privilege’.

When you arrived at the cabin you’d be sharing with your 4 friends, you were a little mortified. There was a room for Vickie and Robin, and Eddie claimed the pullout couch almost immediately. This leaves one more room. With one bed. For you and Steve Harrington. It’s possible Joyce may have misinterpreted the reality of your situation when booking the rooming accommodations.

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it. You guys had had sleepovers before, but almost never in the same bed. His house had a plethora of guest bedrooms, and your father would be found dead before he let a boy sleep in your room, even at the ripe age of 20.

We’re adults, you think. We can be mature about this.

There isn’t much time to dwell on it before you’re being stuffed by Robin into a too tight, wine red bridesmaid dress.

“I feel sick,” you say, groaning. “Do not barf on me,” she warns with a stern look, though you can tell she’s not really annoyed. “I really like these shoes.” Despite the itchy fabric of the dress and the obnoxiously loud color, you do look breathtakingly beautiful. Red has always been your color. 

“Hey dingus! Stop gawking and zip me would you?” Robin lightly kicks you with her bare foot, taking you out of your own head. When you exit the bathroom, you’re immediately met with the 2 boys. Even Eddie, who you don’t believe you’ve ever seen not in ripped jeans, cleans up nice.

Steve looks…strapping. Not handsome in the boyish way you’re used to. He’s all slicked hair, cufflinks and well-pressed wool. He meets your gaze and you swear his pupils dilate just slightly. An arm is offered to walk you to his car. He smells like cinnamon and cedar, woodsy and spice. He opens the passenger door for you and God, he’s a gentleman.

It’s going to be a long night.

- 

The venue was terribly charming. Floor to ceiling windows highlight the snow falling outside in big, fat flakes over the water. The room was lit entirely by yellow string lights, casting a permanent warm hue over the lodge.

On a table clad in lace, there were 5 notecards scribbled on in cursive ink. The one that adorned your name was directly adjacent to one that read Steve Harrington. They were paired with party favors wrapped neatly with a white silk bow.

Steve wanted to pull out your chair for you. He wanted to sit beside you with his hand in yours. Hell, he would’ve bought you a corsage if he thought it appropriate. A death by a thousand cuts; he was again reminded of the fact that you were not his, and he was not yours.

You were unable to identify the source of the nagging anxiety you felt. You were never partial to big gatherings like this, but the unease you were experiencing now was different. All you could do was relax, and try to enjoy the reception. Try not to pay mind to the stark, masculine presence sitting beside you.

The newlyweds’ first dance was to the beloved ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ By INXS. You think about how remarkably fitting a song it was for them and everything they had endured together. The restlessness you had previously felt started to steadily fade after that; laughing and chatting with your friends. It started to feel..normal, for a while.

Just then, like some sick esoteric joke, you hear the unmistakable beginning notes of ‘I’ll Be Over You’ by Toto. When you turn to your left, Steve has a poorly concealed, shit-eating grin on his face.

In the most sober tone he can muster through his unseriousness, he asks, “Can I have this dance?” while extending his hand to you. He prays you don’t notice it trembling slightly. It’s the undeniable corniness of his request that manages to strangle a laugh out of you.

 “I thought you’d never ask.”

With one hand delicately placed on your hip, he threads the other one with your own fingers as he starts to sway. You clumsily try to match his rhythm; so nervous that you’re becoming uncoordinated. His chest is nearly touching yours, and your noses are a hairsbreadth apart. It feels profoundly intimate.

'as soon as forever is through, I'll be over you.'

He leans his head down so his lips just brush your ear as he whispers, “You okay?”

You scoff, unconvincingly. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You know he can see right through you. It’s fruitless to try and deceive him.

“You just seem,” he gives your waist a small squeeze, “a little tense.” You swallow hard.

“Just say the word and I'll take you home.” ‘Home’ meaning back to the cabin. Not the comforting safety of your own bed back in Hawkins. You appreciate his earnestly either way.

“I know, Steve.” you lilt, trying to lighten the intensity of the moment with a teasing tone. You rest your head against his shoulder, if only so you don’t have to keep holding his all-consuming gaze.

-

Despite the thermostat being set at a comfortable 75 degrees, you were still shivering slightly. You always ran cold. You stood in front of a dusty vanity mirror trying to extend your arms behind your back far enough to unzip this godforsaken dress.

You felt him more than you saw him. Steve’s presence displaces the air in the room as one does to water when they sink down into a steaming bath: noticeably, and comfortably. You pay him no mind as you continue to struggle with the zipper. Mulling around the same room; busy with your separate tasks, this was familiar to you. Not often did you have to acknowledge the other for them to know you were grateful for their company.

“Need a hand with that?” he asks, slightly amused as he saunters over to you.

You hesitate for a moment before looking over your shoulder and offering him a shy smile, “Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind?” You know he doesn’t.

His scent envelopes you like a thick fog when he approaches you. His calloused fingers pinch the clasp and pull it down its tracks slowly. The sound is piercing in the quiet of your shared room; your senses dialed up to 11. You can feel his warm, freshly minty breath fan over your shoulders and the nape of your neck. Your arms erupt in goosebumps at the sensation.

He stands there, he realizes, longer than he needs to. 

“Okay I’m gonna-” “There you go-” you both speak at the same time. 

You huff an awkward breath of a laugh before you finish your thought, “I’m gonna..go change.” you throw a thumb behind you in the direction of the ensuite. “Right, yeah,” he shakes his head as if to escape his own thoughts; his turn to act shy.

-

Lying in bed, you’re suddenly grateful that Steve has always been something of a personal space heater. The warmth he radiates makes you want to curl into him, against your better judgment. The silence in the room is deafening; the only sounds to be heard are rhythmic breathing and the creaking of the ancient plumbing.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve’s voice is hoarse, no doubt from the boisterous singing he’d been doing earlier in the evening. Still, you’re grateful for the crack in the wall that's been plastered between you.

“I like secrets,”

“I hate weddings.”

The stiff fabric of the pillowcase crinkles as you turn your head to look at him.

“I am happy for them, it’s not that,” he starts, “it’s just, what if it’s never me up there ya know?”  It’s not that he’s scared he’ll never marry; it’s that he’s scared he’ll never marry you.

You want to reach out for him then. Hold his face in your hands and tell him you understand. There are so many unspoken words between you. Things unsaid, but implied. The desire to yell and scream and confess how much you love him is overwhelming.

“Steve. You’re only twenty,” smiling lightheartedly, “there’s so much time for you. There are plenty of women out there that would be delighted to swear themselves to you for eternity. Believe me.” You chuckle and pretend like the reason you know that to be the truth isn’t because you’re one of them.

“I know, I know,” he brings a hand up to card through his bed mussed hair, “you’re right, it’s silly.”

“I didn’t say it was silly,” you elbow his side gently, consequently moving your body closer to his.

He doesn’t say anything then. Instead, his hand cautiously moves over the bed until it’s touching yours; intertwining your pinkies. He doesn’t breathe, as if any sudden movements might scare you like a frightened doe. If he breathes, you might remember you’re not supposed to be doing this.

“If we’re not married by the time we’re,” he pretends to ponder, “32, will you marry me?”

You laugh, the unexpected loudness of it making you cringe a little, “yes,”

“Promise?” He sounds deadly serious.

You tighten your pinky around his, “Promise.”

[billskeis]

Hello!

I wanted to ask if it's possible that you write double smut with bill and tom? Like, they share her? At the same time, of course 😏

Thank you.

ᡣ𐭩 the kaulitz twin’s after-party “party”

“hey y/n! glad you could make it!” bill exclaimed as the two of you exchanged kisses on each side of the cheek, “thank you guys for inviting me!! ‘nd congrats on the awards, i’m so proud of you guys, hi tom!” you reach out an arm to hug the older twin, his arm wrapped around your waist lingering tightly, and longer than expected.

a smirk frames his face, “lookin’ good tonight,” you playfully spin around in your dress as you blush at his flirts, “oh you, you know i had to; couldn’t show down for my two best friends!”

and that’s what you guys would call it. best friends. you were there when tokio hotel weren’t tokio hotel. devilish, black question mark. since the beginning of time, you supported the four on their rockstar journey whilst also venturing yours. being one of the top soloists right now, tokio hotel and you were a hit! however, what comes with being so close with the twins, comes unwarranted feelings.

the twins eyed you up and down, and eyes just had to linger a little longer than they should’ve to where you’d noticed. cheeks flushed. you stood there in a little tight number, standing tall with your red black pumps.

adjusting themselves, bill clears his throat whilst tom adjusts his t-shirt collar, is it getting hot in here? you can’t help but look down at your heels, feeling small between the kaulitz twins that tower each one of your sides.

“so uh, y/n, you.. busy after this?” tom asks, your eyes widen at the sudden question. what could they possibly want to do after their after party? you were hoping to just go home and rest, considering your busy schedule that consumed most of your social life, but staying up a little later couldn’t hurt right? you take a swig of your alcoholic beverage as you smile, “nope! wanna do something?”

mischievous. as one would call it, the look on their faces. you, oblivious, were not aware of their intentions behind such a question. maybe you weren’t smarter than you looked, or perhaps you were. but you definitely didn’t have any social cues when it came to men. tom wrapped an arm around your waist yet again, you let it rest there. it’s a friendly gesture, to protect you from other men of course!

that was half true.

“let’s go to ours, we have better drinks there,” bill suggests.

that was a total lie.

“but what about the after party?” you cocked your head to the side in genuine curiosity. why would the twins leave their own party that they hosted for their band? odd, you thought, but because it wasn’t your party to begin with and you were JUST a guest, there was no point in further questioning it.

“don’t worry about it, georg and gustav are handling it, see?” as tom points towards the crowd to find double g gyrating with one another and some fans.

you laugh, not realizing that the two of them now have you enclosed even closer between them. as tom’s arm still remains, bill’s hand adorns your shoulder.

“shall we?” he asks.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“i—um—fuck! we.. shouldn’t be doing t-this..” saying that aloud sounds stupid, because how could anybody believe you while you slam your hips down onto tom’s lap, bill’s lips attached to your neck as he paints your neck with various shades of blue, reds and purple.

tom groans as your silky walls clench down on his length, tip hitting your g spot as you wince out in pleasure, “relax baby, paparazzi didn’t follow us back so you have nothing to worry about,” bill unlatches his mouth from your neck, a string of saliva remaining as he giggles looking at the state he’s left your upper body in.

“perfect,” a pleased hum emits from bill as he frees his hard-on from his boxers, whining as the cold air hits his throbbing and needy member.

with a shudder, bill guides one of your hands to the head of his tip, smearing the pre all over the sensitive mushroom head as you work your way up and down his cock.

“oh fuck, just like that..” bill placing his hand over yours in an aid to jerk him off as he would himself, kissing atop of your mouth as his tongue piercing glides over your oral cavity, feeling every nook and cranny of your mouth that has you gasping for more. with a lack of attention, tom pouts as you prioritize bill over him. tilting his pelvis, tom jerks his hips into yours, abusing your walls at a new angle that ends up deepening your kiss with bill, squeezing the head of his cock, “mmphh!”

“tom. be nice.”

“she can handle it, right y/n? you can handle this dick..” tom says with a low chuckle.

melting into the kiss, both you and bill ellicit sweet little cries to one another, “i did it ‘cause i wanted more attention, schatz,” you hear from behind you. as you break the kiss between you and bill turning your head to face the figure you rode, that looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

your cunt is already sensitive, it’s been about two hours since you’ve guys began, well, this. you really wondered how you got yourself into such a mess. maybe it was the way that tom’s little movements on you had your knees buckling, or the way that bill’s smile warmed your heart. you think to yourself, you’re just friends. juuuust friends.

friends don’t do the things you’re doing.

while getting off of tom’s lap, you position yourself onto bill’s, cunt already leaking onto his member and wasting no time and sliding down on his length. bill grips balls of sheets into his fists as he restrains himself from taking you all for himself, “oh gott, y-y/n,” his mouth hanging low as he lets out a strained sob from how sensitive he is. you’re warm, and still tight, and bill can’t help but feel as though he’s in heaven.

tom is still and watches with wide eyes as he soon realizes your mouth engulfs his dick, tongue swirling over his tip as you messily spit and drool saliva all over his cock, “damn.. you little minx, didn’t think ya’d be into this,” holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, using his opposite to pet the top of your head, bobbing up and down.

bill hands hold each side of your ass as he guides your hips up and down his cock, biting his lip as he gasps from how greedily your pussy swallows his cock, “such a slut huh? like the way we take you at the same time.. one cock wasn’t enough, you needed two?” be nice, he said. fucking hypocrite. his dirty words are mean, but have an inverse impact on you as your cunt tightens around him along with a moan vibrating in your throat, tom curses, “oh fuck ‘m not gonna last long..”

tom does everything in his power to hold himself from fucking his hips into your mouth, but it also isn’t helpful considering the fact that bill’s thrusts from behind pushes tom further down your throat. “shitshitshit, bill.. ya close?” “m-mmhm..”

like a pig roasted on a spit, like the slut you truly are, holes fucked by your two best friends, your hips and mouth stutter to escape both ends.

“gonna cum sweet girl?” tom asks as he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over the tears that spill from the ongoing pleasure that surges through your body. both twins are close as well, eager to finish as there’s an unrelenting tempo to bill’s thrusts and tom hastily working his hands on your head in guiding your mouth, fully savouring his taste.

“coming..!”

one quick thrust all at once, you slightly gag on tom and tense your body as the three of you came simultaneously, shaky and trembling. cum paints your insides from opposite ends, filling you to the brim as electricity jolts from the inside out. as bill and tom empty their loads, they finally let out, you’ve managed to swallow all of tom’s, but bill’s seeps from between your legs.

quickly, bill shoves his fingers into your cunt, leaving them there as you wail, ‘b-bill!’ overstimulated, he scoffs jokingly, letting out a quick ‘what?’ as he then removes his fingers admiring his cream-pie.

laying flat on the bed, your body slightly twitches from the lingering pleasure. tom reaches out to hand you a water-bottle as bill uses a warm washcloth to clean you up. thanking the two, both join you in the king-sized bed for a long needed cuddle session.

now let’s just say, the media has found a new scoop on their new hit rockstars.

but you’ll deal with that tomorrow morning!

guys am losinggg my mind i miss my moots i missed my passion for writing i miss thriving :c lmk if i suck i’ll do better

interact if ur still active , pls </3 pls comment and talk 2 me i wanna be more engaging

[sunderingstars]

zayne x reader + expressing his emotions/feelings via his and reader's heartbeat? Since he's not *just* her doctor...🪐

♡ heartbeat (zayne x reader) ♡

what the stars reveal: no gender signifiers for reader, (but can be assumed fem based off the game’s mc), slight allusions to lore, poetic prose taken directly from my brain at 3am

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thank you for the suggestion, anon !! i feel like this ask was made just for me because i use zayne’s heartbeats as a way to de-stress every day LOL. i got a little bit carried away so i hope more than a few paragraphs is fine :3

It had started as a joke. Some silly, off-the-cuff banter you didn’t even remember starting, much less continuing until the two of you sat face-to-face on the couch in his office. It didn’t really matter, in your mind, how it happened. All that mattered was the thrumming; the steady rhythm of a heart, his heart, resting warm and stable under layers of skin and fabric.

It didn’t occur to you to be embarrassed. Not when you could feel it against your fingertips, burning through the outer layers of Zayne’s frost-tipped skin, coming to rest against you like a flower, like some sort of fragile thing with petals of ice. If you could, you wished to hold it in your hands, softly, tenderly, in the vain hope it would never crack. A prayer, perhaps, to a god you couldn’t remember.

“What is your verdict, doctor?” the teasing lilt of the last word brought you back to yourself, to the man in front of you. Zayne looked at you, eyes sparkling in amusement.

You coughed lightly. “It’s… uh… normal.” You didn’t remove your hand. “But kind of weird.”

Zayne’s heart stuttered along with his chuckle. “Weird?”

“Yes, weird,” you repeated, letting the lull of his heart diffuse from your fingertips to your chest. “I feel like I’m going to fall asleep.”

A beat of silence. “Go ahead, then.”

You blinked. Part of you thought you must’ve heard wrong — perhaps his heartbeat was laced with some sort of hallucinogen — but when you looked back to him, to the soft upturn at the corners of his mouth, you realized he was serious.

“What?” you asked. “Just like that?”

Zayne raised his eyebrows. “Why not? Leading research suggests that eight to ten hours of sleep is best for optimal performance. And someone I know is falling behind in that regard.”

You considered it, humming. Then you leaned forward until the side of your head replaced your hand on his chest. From here, you could hear the tempo picking up pace directly in your ear.

“It’s even weirder now,” you said.

“Is it?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it likes you.”

You smiled against his chest. “Maybe I like it, too. Maybe, even, I want to give it a big kiss on t—”

“Go to sleep.” His tone was faux-stern, the way he sounded when he wasn’t fully committed to deflecting something. You could have kept prying, you knew, just to see how far the heart metaphor would go, but you decided to give his actual heart a break.

“Fine,” you said. “But I hope it knows it belongs to a great doctor.”

Another stutter against your ear. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

Content, you settle against him, not caring that you’re still half-sitting. It’s easy, then, to listen. To wash away. To hear the sounds of rising, falling, cresting like snowcapped mountains and falling stars, and feel as though you’re a falling star yourself, hopeless.

“I wonder if it loves me,” you murmur, half-conscious, half-hopeful, half-blurred.

The last thing you hear is the low timbre of Zayne’s voice, softer than you’ve ever heard it, sending you off into the dark.

“It does.”

💙 bonus hc 💙: zayne has different ways to check heartbeats depending on how close he is to someone. for his normal days on the job, he uses a stethoscope, but when it comes to those he gets close to, he’ll take it by wrist pulse or neck. when the two of you start dating, he becomes a fan of pretending he can only take your pulse if he’s resting his head against your chest, which usually leads to him falling asleep on you.

© 2024, written by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[holylulusworld]

Our beautiful Christmas - Snippet (2)

Summary: You and Bucky spend your first Christmas together.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Plussized!Reader

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Warnings: language, established relationship, fluff

A/N: I just couldn’t let them go. I’ll write more for them. For now, here’s another Christmas snippet.

Our Christmas - Snippet (1)

You are beautiful masterlist

“Uh—where do you want to put the snowman and its family?” Steve asks. He looks around your front yard, frowning because there’s not much space left. “On the roof or do you want to give it back?”

“We won’t give the snowman and its family back!” Bucky snatches the snowman out of Steve’s hands. “How can you even think about bringing them back to the store.”

“Y/N, you should rethink your decision to live with bird brain. I think his brain short-circuited while buying the decoration.” Tony grins as you punch his upper arm. “Just saying, he’s all over the Christmas decoration.”

“It’s his first Christmas after—” You bite your tongue and glance Bucky’s way, “Everything. Bucky never had the chance to celebrate Christmas after he fell off the train. Let him have his fun.”

“Hmm…” Tony nods thoughtfully. He didn’t consider that Bucky is excited to celebrate Christmas for the first time since he’s free from Hydra’s grip. “Maybe we can find something better for the roof.”

“What? I didn’t mean that you…” You huff as Tony is halfway toward his car. “Wait! No more decoration, Tony. Please…the neighbors will think we are crazy.”

“What do you say, doll?” Bucky proudly puffs his chest. He points at the snowman and its family, smiling. “Do you like it?”

The decoration is too much, but you don’t tell Bucky so. He put his heart into decorating your front yard and the house. “I love it, Bucky!” You giggle and wink at him. “Do you think we are done for today?”

“No!” Tony runs back toward the house, and one of his robots walks beside him. “I got one more. This will be a shining star.”

“What do you mean?” You look at the robot, frowning as it flies toward the house to land next to Santa’s sleigh. “Tony, what did you do? Don’t tell me you bought more Christmas decorations!”

Tony snorts. “Buying Christmas decorations is for beginners,” he dips his head to look at the suit. “Number 68, transform. Show bird brain how to do it,” he says. The robot transforms. It turns into a Santa robot monstrosity. It plays Christmas songs and tries to look cheerful.

“What is that?” Bucky grunts. “Hey, get that piece of junk off my lawn!” He walks toward the robot to poke it with the tip of his boot. “That is enough. Tell it to transform and leave my lawn. He looks ridiculous next to the sleigh.”

Steve chuckles while Sam rummages in the backseat of his car. “Hey, will anyone help me with the rest of the stuff Bucky bought or can I take it home?”

“He bought more?” You hurriedly walk toward Sam’s car to poke your head into the car. “No, Buck! That’s a lot.”

“It’s not,” Bucky argues. “Only a few more…snowmen.” He walks toward the car to show you all the nice decorations he bought. “We’ll need all of them.”

“Bucky.” You turn around to cup his face. He looks even more exciting than this morning. You smile, and say, “It’s going to be an even better Christmas with all the decorations.”

“I knew you’d love it,” he hums. Bucky pecks your lips before pulling you into a hug. “It’s going to be beautiful.”

Tags in reblog.

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part I (reupload)

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Dislaimer: player!p is very present in this fic so please do not read if that bothers you. this is not a true depiction of what i think paige is like but merely a character

Warnings: toxic!p, SMUT, language

Wordcount: 6.2K

A/N: if you're looking at this like it looks familiar... it's because it is. i'm reuploading because i accidentally deleted part 1 which had almost 800 notes sooo uh yeah ANYWAYS go enjoy this and the other parts, perhaps it's a good time for a re-read before the final part?

-

“Yo I’m about to get fucked up tonight” A strong voice comes through from the bar entrance.

I would recognize that voice anywhere. Before I even lift my gaze I’m brought back to the memories of her talking into my ear mid shift, hands on my waist, soft whispers in my ear telling me how good I looked. Or the flashing images of her in my bed on top of me, sweat dripping down her back, talking me through it inbetween groans. The images I replayed over and over in my head, a lot more than I’d like to admit - more than was okay for someone who had called the whole thing off between us anyway. 

In a panic I quickly bent down to hide behind the bar, pretending that scrubbing the sticky liquor stains off the floor was of the utmost importance. All just to get away from having to serve her.

“Hey, can you get this one, I’m dying for a break” Natalie, my co-worker, says - clueless to the hiding or the cause of it. For a moment I consider faking a heart attack, throwing a glass at her, or simply screaming “no”. But her round eyes (and the fact I needed to keep this job to pay the bills) softened me. With a deep breath I nod and stand up behind the bar, as Natalie walks off. Leaving me face to face with her.

She’s standing in front of me - Paige. It had been weeks since I had seen her last, doing everything in my power to avoid her. My eyes can’t help it though when they travel from her long fingers to her veiny hands to her broad shoulders that I swear had filled out even more in the weeks I hadn’t seen her. My gaze roams over her neck and my knees almost buckle at the memory of burying my head there, leaving open mouthed kisses on her pale skin.The way it bruised and reddened. The navy blue Uconn trackies made her skin even brighter, and I swear she glowed a little. Finally, my eyes land on her bright blue eyes that are already staring at me, heavy lidded, needy even. The way always looked when she made her way to my dorm in the middle of the night, needing me.

Her eyes widen. “Oh… didn’t know you were working today” Paige says. It’s a lie. It’s clear in the strain of her voice, the way her fingers twitch. Last time we talked I told her I never wanted to see her again. But right now as she towered over me forcing me to tilt my head up to meet her gaze, I nearly forgot why.

“Whatchu want?” I ask, ignoring her statement already instinctively reaching for the grenadine. I knew her too well to pretend anything else. My stomach twisted uncomfortably thinking about how we had left things between us.

Paige pretends to think. “Uhh… a dirty shirley.” Her words are slightly slurred. She’d already been drinking. I move my eyes away from hers, unable to take the severity of her stare. The tension is broken, however, by a very drunk KK crashing into Paige and leaning over the bar. “also shots” KK adds and nudges Paige who smiles weakly, her eyes never leaving mine. With the way she looked I might’ve thought she had missed me - but I knew better. Paige Bueckers did not yearn for any girl. Certainly not me.

I smile widely at KK. “You wanna be more specific?” I ask, making the shirley with a rehearsed ease. I had made quite a few since Paige had taken a liking to me earlier in the year, coming over to Ted’s almost every night, sitting in the corner with her teammates watching me, tipping me way too much with that smug grin of hers. It would’ve pissed me off if she wasn’t so insanely, out of this world hot.

“Anything strong” KK snorts and I let out a chuckle, reaching for the vodka. “You got it.”

I set the drinks on the counter but Paige is quick to grab hers, her fingertips pressing into mine for just a moment. I nearly whimper at the contact, seeing how Paige’s jaw flexes and cheeks blush. She felt it as much as I did, the tension from the last time we slept together.

“Thanks…” Paige murmurs uncharacteristically quiet. KK rolling her eyes and scoffing, grabs the shots for her and the team. “Bro” KK shakes her head at the interaction, leaving the blonde alone with me to pay. I try to ignore the burn between my legs, watching her long fingers shuffling through cash in her wallet. It would take a gun for me to admit I had been thinking about those fingers during lonely nights and fuck, even nights spent with other people. No matter what no one ever measured up to how those fingers knew exactly what to do, which buttons to push.

“Keep the rest, ma” Paige says, snapping me out of my daydream. My mind is too hazy to take in the nickname. I can’t get a single word out before she’s already turning away, dirty shirley in hand and a stupid grin on her face. She had got to me and she was enjoying every moment.

–

Paige dangled over the bar, her eyes wide and searching, finally setting on me walking out from the back. She’s pushing her blonde hair off her face with a sloppy, uncoordinated movement, clearly feeling the alcohol. I stop her before she can speak though.

“If you want another one you gotta ask Natalie, I’m off my shift” I tell Paige, refusing to give her my attention the way she wanted.

“I know, you’re off this time every week” Paige chuckles and leans forward against her elbows on the bar. She was in a Uconn tee now, her biceps flexing, making me want to groan out loud. “we should talk.”

“We really shouldn’t” I say sternly, taking off the nametag I had been wearing. “pretty sure I said I never wanted to talk to you again.”

“Sure and you also called me a bitch but never stopped us from fucking before either” Paige says, a slight annoyance in her voice for not having me wrapped around her finger like she used to. She’s licking on her grenadine stained lips, chasing my gaze. I finally meet hers, ignoring the aching I felt looking at her, looking at me. I knew how this ended up unless I left. Now.

“I have class tomorrow” i sigh, walking around the bar towards the exit and throwing on my jacket. Before I know it Paige’s hand grips my arm holding me still. I can smell her around me. Grenadine and alcohol sure, but also the scent of her. The scent I looked for everywhere. Her eyes were pleading, like I was water and she was on fire. I almost forgot why I hated her, just for a second. 

“Lemme drive you ma” Paige pleads. 

“You can’t drive, you're drunk” I say, brushing her hand off of me. A feeble attempt as Paige’s free arm quickly snakes around my waist and pulls me in, her scent so strong now it’s making me dizzy.

“But I need to talk to you, been driving me crazy” She murmurs with a slight whine in her voice. For a moment I waver, her hand firmly on the small of my back, all her height towering over me. It made my head spin.

Paige takes it as a sign and leans closer, pulling me in tighter but I place my hand on her chest holding her back, suddenly aware of how empty the bar was and how the most famous person on campus probably shouldn’t be doing this in public. I notice the way her chest is heaving, mine doing the same. The fabric of the shirt underneath my fingertips felt all sorts of wrong, I needed it off of her immediately. No, I had to be stronger than this. 

But I wasn’t.

“Do you need a ride back to campus?” I ask her, swallowing. The way her tongue slides over her lower lip as she watches me forces a deep blush to set on my face. 

“Yeah, bad” Paige murmurs and I push her hands off me, wordlessly heading to the door with Paige following close behind. She hurries past me to open the car door for me. I would think it was sweet if I didn’t know that it was just one of her plays. One of the ways she made girls like me think she actually cared. She didn’t. She just wanted to fuck.

The air is tense as I start the car, praying Paige doesn’t notice the slight tremble of my hand. I’m not sure if it’s anger from what she did to me, or how weak her touch had made me feel. Paige slouches on the passenger seat, watching me with hooded eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. Her legs were spread wide apart, sweatpants pulled low enough for her Nike Pros to peak through. For a second all I want to do is pull the car up and climb on top of her and from the smirk on Paige’s face I can tell she’s having the exact same thoughts.

“Been missing you y’know-” Paige starts but I interrupt, knowing she had the tendency to talk herself right into my bed.

“Told you I never wanted to talk to you again, remember?” I say with a slight shake in my voice.

“Baby c’mon, you weren’t serious about that,” her hoarse voice filled with amusement.

“What the screaming didn’t seem serious to you?” I sigh my eyes strictly on the road. Paige let’s out a chuckle and leans forward on her seat.

“i just remember how bad i wanted to fuck that attitude out of you,” she chuckles and the car swirls on the road as i slap her only half seriously across the chest. I pull over on the road, parking the car.

“Get out” I tell Paige sternly, rage and annoyance swirling inside me. She had no right to be making light of the situation. Not after what she did, how bad it had hurt me.

Paige lets out a laugh. “Man you’re crazy” she tells me turning to face me. I face her too, the anger turning my cheeks even brighter. 

“I’m fucking serious. Get out,” I repeat my voice rising a little but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Paige just chuckles and shakes her head.

“KK always telling me I pick the crazy ones, I’m thinking she’s right,” Paige groans, not taking any initiative to get out of my car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and groan, getting on my knees to lean over Paige manspreading on the passenger seat, reaching for her door as she grabs my wrist, my face so close to hers I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The air in the car shifted, my annoyance turning into something that made my legs feel weak, as she licks her lips, her eyes on me. “M sorry ok,” Paige says, her voice low and hoarse now.

I fold, once again.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you, mmkay?” I say clearing my throat and pulling back from her before I made some really, really bad choices.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, satisfied by the effect she had on me.

I start the car and in silence we drive back to Storrs, the streets quiet on the dark tuesday night. Paige fiddles with the zipper of her hoodie, her nimble fingers needing something to do - always looking for something to toy with. 

I tried to shake the feeling of each cell in my body screaming for her, needing to feel her skin against mine. I knew we weren’t good for each other. She wasn’t good for me. Part of me wished she came to tell me she’s done fucking around. That I’m all she wants, better than all the countless other girls that spent nights in her bed. That I was different, special. Worth letting everyone else go for. Frankly, even if she told me all those things, each word I wanted to hear, I wouldn’t believe her. 

When you were with Paige, it never felt like you were one of many though. She knew how to make you feel like you were the only one. It was in the way her blue eyes roamed my face, in the whine of her voice - like she would die if she didn’t have me. She’d remember your favourite movie and your mother’s name and the way you liked your coffee. All just to go see some other bitch later and repeat the same routine with her. Even with the girls she fucked, she had to be the best. Not because they meant anything, but because that’s who she had to be - the best. A winner.

Paige stretches her arms behind her head, the grey Uconn tee hiking up just enough for the skin on her lower abdomen to peek out as I park the car. There’s a moment of silence, Paige staring at me intently.

“Look, I-” she starts but I quickly climb out of the car, not wanting to hear it. She’s quick to follow me though, her long limbs catching up to me quickly. 

“Ma, c’mon-”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, doing my best to sound stern as I head towards my dorm walking as fast as I could, Paige right next to me. The campus was empty, most students already in their dorms, spending the night in.

“Bro you gotta listen to me-”

“No I don’t, you got your drive now fuck off!” I yelp, entering the building as Paige holds the door open, still persistent on following me. “You said you’d keep your mouth shut so… keep it shut Paige.”

“Well… I lied” She murmurs still on my tail all the way to my door, watching me struggle with the lock, my hands shaky from the mix of anger and how bad the need between my legs had grown for her. Paige reaches over, unlocking the door for me, her hands brushing against mine. I close my eyes and sigh - I really had to get it together.

“Well yeah you do that huh,” I chuckle bitterly entering my dorm, Paige leaning against the doorframe, not letting me lock her out.

Paige chuckles and shakes her head. “Bro you’re being so dramatic, we both knew what this was when we got into it. It’s not like you didn’t fuck around too!” Paige raises her voice, slightly amused, slightly bitter.

The truth was, I hadn’t slept around. Since Paige first fucked me, she took over me, consumed me. I would never admit this to her but I couldn’t even think about anyone else. 

“God, you can be such a bitch I swear to-” I groan loudly, rolling my eyes but Paige interrupts me, stepping into my room.

“Me?! You’re the most psycho bitch I ever met-” 

“Psycho bitch?!” I’m screaming now, my body hot with rage. “It was you who told me you weren’t fucking anyone else with some other bitch’s bra under your bed! Not me!”

Paige groans and shuts the door behind her, throwing her head back in frustration. “It’s just something people say! You were in those purple panties too ma, I’m not responsible for the shit I say when you wear those,” Paige argues. I chuckle, turning to face her. She was staring at me, heavy lidded and jaw sharper than usual from biting her teeth together. Paige was getting pissed off, wondering if any pussy was worth this much trouble.

“You’re a fucking sociopath P!” I yell at her as she takes a step towards me, her eyes darkening. The blue in her eyes nearly gone from the way her pupils were blown out.

Paige grins smugly at me, licking her lower lip, looking me up and down. “Yeah? What else?” she says smugly, her big hands coming to hold me by my waist. The moment my eyes meet hers I knew it was over for me. Suddenly my legs felt weak, and my head spun.

“An asshole too,” I sigh, my voice breathy and more quiet. My body was immediately responding to her touch, Paige’s fingertips sliding underneath the hem of my shirt sending goosebumps everywhere.

“Yeah?” Paige grins, with a smug tone. I nearly fall over.

“Yeah,” I repeat, my chest heaving. 

“That’s too bad ma…” Paige murmurs, her eyes roaming from my eyes to my lips to my body. 

I furrow my brows, fighting to not let out a whimper as her fingertips rubbed up and down against my sides, carefully over each rib. Up and down.

“It’s too bad because I’ve been dying to fuck you,” She says with a low voice, eyes returning to meet mine. “Shit baby, watching you tonight, the way your ass looks in those jeans? Fucking killing me,” she adds shaking her head. Paige’s hand drifts down from my waist to my hips, all the way to my ass. Gripping it hard, hungrily with a groan. 

I can’t fight the whimper that spills from my lips, the way my eyes flutter shut just for a moment. Paige grins, watching my reaction. She pulls me closer by my ass, my body pressing against hers as she towers over me. Paige leans down, nuzzling her nose against my ear. And I don’t stop her, biting my lip, feeling the way my panties were growing damp already. Only Paige could have this kind of effect on me - one touch and a few words and that grin and I was hers. She knew it as well as I did and I hated her for it.

I was too weak to hate her right now though. Too far gone.

“But since you hate me so bad…” Paige whispers into my ear, her lips brushing against it as she left a few wet kisses right under it. “I should probably leave.”

In a haze I reach up to wrap my hands around her, my hand pressing against the back of her neck to keep her there. To make sure she didn’t go.

“No…” I nearly whine. Paige chuckles against my neck, kissing it slow and soft. Her hand kneads my ass again, like she had been dying to feel it..

“No? You want me to stay?” She says, teasing.

“Want you to stay,” I murmur, tilting my head to the side, my eyes shut now.

“Want me to get you right ma?” Paige asks hoarsely. My body feels like putty as she holds me against her, like she could do whatever and I could do nothing but watch. I didn’t feel in control. I never did with her.

“Y-yes,” I finally admit with a sigh.

Paige pulls away from my neck, her lips ghosting mine. Her breathing was heavy. She needed this just as bad as I did.

“Attagirl,” she murmurs and finally presses her lips against mine. I moan against her, Paige’s lips slide against mine hungrily - like all these weeks apart she had been underwater and I was air. She could finally breathe.

With a swift movement, Paige pulls my shirt off, leaving me in a bra and jeans as her lips return to mine with a groan. Paige’s tongue slides against my lower lip, begging for access. I open my mouth, my tongue meeting hers, my hands pulling on her t-shirt, feeling the muscles on her abdomen, earning a small whine from her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers and walks me back without breaking the kiss. The backs of my legs hit the edge of my bed, forcing me to fall over. Paige watches me hungrily, her mouth ajar just slightly as her eyes roamed my body. “So fucking sexy,” she groans, pulling her shirt off over her head before climbing on top of me in her sports bra.

Paige starts kissing my neck roughly, sucking and nibbling enough to leave bruises to remind me of her later. Her leg finds its way between my legs, quickly pressing against my core as her free hand roams my side, fingers sliding underneath my bra and kneading my breast.

“Fuck, P…” I whimper arching my back off the bed. The friction provided by her leg was the opposite of relieving, making me more aware of all the layers between our bodies. “Need these off,” I murmur breathlessly, my hands pulling the blue sweatpants down desperately as Paige’s open mouth moved from my neck to my jaw.

“Whatever you want baby,” she whispers, kicking off her pants. She was now on top of me in a sports bra and Nike pros, a silver chain dangling against my chest. Paige leans back a little, eyes roaming my body, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe I was real. Her blonde hair was down and tousled from the way I had been gripping it as she grabs a hair tie from her wrist, tying it back messily, licking her lips.

“Baby, I need to taste you or I might die.”

With that Paige brings her lips back to my neck, making her way down with a trail of wet, sloppy kisses between my breasts, down my stomach, my hip bones, her hands unbuttoning my jeans, shaky with need.  

I watch as she gets on her knees on the floor between my legs, watching my face as she pulls down my jeans painfully slowly. I buck my hips, needing her mouth on me so bad I felt lightheaded. Paige’s hands pin my hips down with a grin, eyes moving to my panties and the visible spot that had grown wetter under her gaze.

“Fuuuckk ma,” she groans, finally bringing her lips to my core, kissing over my panties.

I gasp and grip the sheets beside me, trying to buck my hips closer but Paige shakes her head, still holding my hips still. “Thought you hated me,” she murmurs against my core. I wanted to cry, needing her lips on my bare skin. The feel of her mouth through my panties wasn’t enough.

“I do,” I whine, squirming in frustration, throbbing with need. I wanted to hate her, I really did. But when she was between my legs, pinning me down, a chain on her neck and that smirk on her face, I simply couldn’t. 

Paige brings her hand to my hip, finally pulling my panties down to my ankles, her eyes never leaving my core. With a bite of her lip, she brings her finger to my cunt, already soaked, all for her. Her fingertip presses against my clit menacingly, enough to make me gasp.

“If you hate me so much then why are you this wet huh?” Paige teases with a gravelly voice starting to circle my clit slowly, drawing out whimpers from my lips. My legs immediately trembled, and I watched her with heavy eyes and furrowed brows, nearly unable to think yet alone speak.

“You’ve been such a bitch all night shoulda known you just needed to be fucked,” she chuckles, pressing her fingers harder against my clit, making me let out a moan. It had been weeks since we last did this yet the way she touched me seemed practised and effortless, like she had been doing it every single day of her life.

“Fuck you,” I moan arching my back as Paige bit on my inner thigh, the veins in her forearm turning visible from the strain of rubbing my clit. 

“Nah ma;” she breathes out, shaking her head. “I’mma fuck you. Just need to taste this pussy first,” Paige groans and leans over, both her hands gripping my inner thighs harshly, forcing them apart as she dives in face first, her lips quickly attaching to my clit.

“Shit. Paige, I-” I moan, unable to come up with any comprehensible thought, Paige’s tongue lapping me up like she really would die if she didn’t taste me. Paige’s eyes are fluttering shut and she’s moaning against my cunt, unable to get enough.

“Fucking missed this pussy so bad,” she murmurs against me, wrapping her lips around my clit and sucking. “Taste so fucking good, never gonna get enough of you,” she rambles on, making quick mess of me. It doesn’t take long for the coil in my stomach to tighten, my hand gripping onto Paige’s blond hair, falling out of the bun now. 

“Paige-” I whine, throwing my head back, feeling her tongue swirling in my folds. The sheets underneath me were growing damp, wetness dripping out of me from how good she was eating me out.

Paige pulls away spreading my folds apart with her fingers. “Shit ma she loves me huh,” she groans at the sight of me dripping all over the bed. Without warning she pushes two fingers inside me, all the way as deep as she could. 

“OH fuck P” I gasp loud, bringing my eyes to her face, glistening from the mess I had made. She groans, my cunt tight and wet around her fingers as she curls them against me, her bicep flexing as she does. I moan loudly, throwing my head back, my legs shaking bad. Paige’s thumb rubs against my clit harshly as she pumps her fingers into me.

“P… mmph, please,” I cry out, not even sure what I'm pleading for. 

“Shh,” Paige coos, her hand reaching up to cover my mouth and shut me up. “Listen ma,” she says and groans. The room is filled with the sound of my wet cunt, as her fingers slam into me faster, curling harder. My cheeks burn up, almost embarrassed at the state that she had me in.

Paige grins watching my face. “Don’t sound like you hate me, huh,” she murmurs, a bead of sweat dripping down her face. “No one else gets you this wet right? No one fucks you like this,” she groans, hand moving from my mouth to gripping my jaw, making me watch her fingering me.

“Mmmh,” i whimper and grip the sheets harder, overwhelmed with the fullness her fingers were bringing me. I wanted to look away, unable to take the way her arm looked, muscles flexing, veins prominent, as she worked me. It was all overwhelming me as the pleasure built enough to make me shut my eyes.

“Answer me,” Paige commands, her voice stern and her hand moving faster. 

“Shit… No one.. No one fucks me like this,” I cry out, unaware of what was coming out of my mind. Too fucked out to care.

“Shit, that’s right. No one baby, only me,” Paige murmurs, her mouth returning to my clit, tongue working against it as her fingers fill me up, overwhelming me and getting me to my peak.

“P- I’m close,” I cry out, my legs nearly shutting but Paige grips my thigh with her free hand, spreading me open for her.

“That’s it ma, s’ good for me,” Paige coos working harder, her fingers curling inside me, tongue flicking against my clit. “Come for me baby,” she praises, groaning against me.

“Oh-” I whine and my head lulls back, as my core tightens around her, my legs trembling, her movements coaxing my orgasm out of me. Who cared she slept around, who cared I was supposed to hate her. In this moment, it was just me and her. And no one made me feel like she did, no one took care of me like this.

“Perfect fucking pussy, all for me,” Paige groans against my cunt, working me as I released all over her, the pleasure washing over me in waves. My moans turn to whimpers as I slowly come down, her movements slowing too.

I let out a breath, feeling the aching emptiness inside me as Paige pulled her hand away. She watches my pulsing cunt, mesmerised and hungry. The thing about Paige, one was never enough for her. Her lips kissed around my clit before pulling away, licking her lips from my slick. 

“Missed how you taste baby,” she murmurs while I lay back, trying to catch my breath. Paige brought her fingers against my lips, sliding them into my mouth. I wrap my lips around her fingers, tongue swirling around them, tasting myself. Paige hisses, watching me sucking on her fingers. With a groan she climbs back up, kissing me hungrily. The taste of me, and her saliva all mixing together. 

Her lips move against mine, the kiss filled with something more tender than pure lust. My arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in as we move up towards the headboard of the bed. Paige breathes heavy through her nose, kissing me with all the need she had, her hand holding my face by my jaw. I move my hand from her shoulder, down her arm squeezing her bicep, all the way to the band of her Nike Pros, tucking on them.

“Need to feel you P,” I admit in a moment of weakness, my heart fluttering with how good it felt to be underneath her again. I needed all of her.

Paige pulls back a little, breathing heavy and I swear her eyes are filled with tenderness for just a second as they meet mine. Her fingertips trace my jaw and lower lip before letting go and pulling down the fabric I was tugging on, lips parted from need. My eyes roam her sports bra covered chest, down the muscles of her abdomen finally to her core. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly going dry.

I reach up and flip us over, with some help from Paige who was much stronger. She grins, watching me on top of her, straddling her thigh as I lean down and kiss her hard. Paige is quick to place her hand on my ass, gripping it harshly and hissing at how good it felt to touch me. My hand trails down her abdomen, fingertips itching to feel her cunt but she grabs my wrist, shaking her head.

“Ride me ma,” she says, half commanding, half pleading. I open my eyes meeting her eyes and I realise, she is fully pleading. 

“Need to feel that pussy on mine.” Shit.

Too weak to fight or to make her beg, I manoeuvre myself between her legs, angling her body just right, Paige’s other leg up in the air in my grip. Paige watches me, leaning back against the bedframe, eyes half shut and mouth agape, looking so good I could’ve burst.

Finally, I lower myself against her, feeling the slick of her cunt press against mine. 

“Ohhh shiiit,” Paige groans, watching our cores pressing against each other. I whimper, pressing on her lower abdomen to find just the right angle. 

“Oh,” I whine, feeling her pressing against my clit just right, my body immediately trembling, still sensitive from my previous orgasm.

Paige’s head lulls back at the same time, as she lets out a guttural groan, gripping my ass and forcing me to start moving my hips.

I do so, slowly, drawing it out for her - just the way Paige loved and simultaneously hated. Her breathing was getting heavier as she watched me. “Just like that,” she whimpers, trying to keep herself together. It never lasted for long.

I moan, grinding my cunt into hers, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. Her hands snake around me, unclasping my bra with ease, letting my tits fall out as she groans. 

“Look so fucking good for me,” she murmurs, a slight whine in her voice as she leans forward, her mouth attaching itself to my nipple, tongue circling it as i ride her faster, mind spinning once more. “Such a bitch huh who knew you’d be so good for me,” Paige whines and I grip her shoulders, steadying myself, letting my nails dig into her skin as she hisses.

“You’re the bitch,” I whimper breathlessly, letting out a gasp when she bites my nipple. Paige’s hand are digging into the skin of my ass, forcing me to move faster, her hips bucking into me. She chuckles, breathing heavily, head falling back against the bedframe. “Shut the fuck up and ride me ma,” she hisses, gripping my jaw and forcing my gaze to lock on her face.

I hiss, furrowing my brows as i look down at her, moving my hips desperately, our cunts grinding together harshly, igniting that familiar burn inside me.

“That pisses me off, pretending you don't want me. Pretending you don’t want me to fuck you, it’s bullshit,” Paige groans, fighting back her own orgasm now. Her words shook and the muscles in her abdomen were contracting as she looked up at me. “Look at you now riding my shit, being a slut for me,” she rambles on. “You’re my slut ma,” Paige moans bucking her hips into mine, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure.

My nails dig into her skin harder, my whole body trembling. I was close, and it only made me ride harder, grind against her faster, the slickness of her cunt making me wetter. Paige’s hand squeezed my jaw, forcing my eyes open.

“Tell me.. Shit- tell me you’re my slut,” Paige whines. She’s desperate for it, barely aware of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Mmph, P-” I moan, my cunt throbbing.

“Aw shit- I- Tell me,”

“Fuck I am, I’m your slut P, please,” I mewl, my eyes growing wet as they shut.

“That’s right ma, fuck- ride me so good you’re gonna make me come,” Paige murmurs out inbetween moans, hands gripping my jaw and ass so tight I’m nearly bruising underneath her grip.

My whole body shook and I cried out, barely able to keep grinding my cunt into hers. But when I heard the moan that slipped from her lips, and felt her mouth attach itself to my neck, I knew I’d do anything to get her to fall apart beneath me.

“P- I’m-” I cry out but she interrupts me.

“Me too baby, shit- ride me so- aw fuck- fucking good,” Paige rambles, barely able to form sentences as she moves underneath me, the friction growing unbearable between us as she lets out a guttural moan, her body coiling underneath me. 

“Fuck-” Paige finally moans.

That’s enough to get me there too, coming against her cunt, fingernails leaving marks on her shoulders as I kept grinding my hips, movements turning sloppy as i whimpered on top of her.

My body trembles, eyes still closed when I feel Paige’s hands wrapping around my body and pulling me down. My naked body presses against her skin as she soothingly rubs my back, nuzzling her nose into my hair.

“Meant it when I said I missed you,” she murmurs into my ear, still out of breath. I bury my head into the crook of her neck, brushing her hair gently. It was moments like these that got me confused. You didn’t do this just for someone you fucked. Except Paige did.

“Don’t like fightin you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss on my temple. I feel my heart fluttering in a way I didn’t want it to for Paige. But I’m too tired to fight it. I press a kiss on her jaw, gently and pull my head back to meet her gaze. She looks completely fucked out, mascara smudged under tired eyes. Her hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair off my face before she leans over and kisses my forehead, as tenderly as humanly possible. Maybe this was her trying to show me I was in fact different, that she was done with the other girls. She just wanted me. 

“Don’t like fighting you either,” I whisper, resting my chin on her chest. Paige’s eyes are filled with relief, as she smiles weakly. 

“I’mma get us some water, okay ma?” Paige hums and I nod, letting her crawl out of bed from underneath me. I watch pull her clothes back on and turn to me, smiling affectionately. She leans down and presses another kiss on my temple, smoothing over the blanket to make sure I was comfortable. “Just a sec,” she whispers before walking into the kitchen. Surely you don’t do that just for a girl you fuck. There’s no way you look at someone like that and proceed to sleep around with other people. My heart fluttered as I let my mind wander, finding myself fantasising of getting to call Paige mine. All mine.

Just then I heard Paige’s phone buzzing on the bedside table. Without my better judgement, I reach over, seeing 4 missed calls and 12 messages from a girl, asking where she was and when she’d be over. My heart sinks, the reality quickly bringing me back down from my daydreams. Paige wasn’t here because I was special. No. She was here because I was whipped, and she knew it. And I had given her every single thing she wanted.

[hotchs-big-hands]

might be tmi but i desperately want to eat Aaron’s ass 😳 it’s so cute and he deserves it so much and ughhhh 😮‍💨

AAAA HELLO ANON YOU ARE ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH AS ME CUZ BIG SAME I THINK ABT THAT SO MUCH

Ya girl has to write a blurb abt this too so ummmmm NSFW! minors DNI

gn!reader

We can easily say Aaron has most likely had a very vanilla sex life. I mean he was with Haley since high school and then dated Beth for a while, and in my opinion I doubt they really got too frisky with it.

So you and Aaron are together now and you’ve definitely been exploring kinks with him, stuff he’s never done before and he’s got a grasp of what he likes. You’re enthusiastic when you suck him off, taking him down to the base but also nuzzling and kissing his balls whilst you jerk him off. But on one particular occasion, as you’re messily sucking and kissing the underside of his balls, your tongue slips out to lick down and it just barely brushes against his perineum and he gasps out, hips thrusting upwards as his cock twitches. Neither of you expected such a reaction, and he takes a moment to recover and apologise- although he definitely doesn’t need to.

You can’t stop thinking about it but you haven’t brought it up to him. Your mind wanders though, you’d fantasised about rimming him but you didn’t want to bring it up and make him uncomfortable if he wasn’t into it as well. But that reaction… you had yet to admit to him you’d gotten yourself off thinking about it since it happened.

On the flip side, Aaron has been thinking about it nonstop ever since. Ever since he began dating you and your sex life turned adventurous, he had done a lot of research. And in turn, discovered things he had yet to bring up to you. Before you he had never even considered the prospect of anything being in or around his ass, but now he’d seen and read about certain things- watched certain things- and he suddenly had a desire to try some things out.

You’re making out, he’d just gotten out of the shower and returned to your shared bedroom where you all but attacked him with your mouth on his, hands grabbing at him until he has you straddling his lap. You can feel his clothed cock hardening against your inner thighs and when you part for oxygen, you lazily trace your fingers over his chest as your mouth opens and closes a few times, deep in thought about how you were going to bring up what you wanted to talk to him about. He notices and raises a brow at you and squeezes your hips.

“Everything alright, honey?” He asks quietly and you hum with a smile. You tell him you want to talk to him about something and he chuckles.

“As do I actually. Please, go ahead.”

And so you do, watching the micro-expressions form and change with every word you utter about what happened the other night, admitting you'd not been able to stop thinking about it since. He shakily laughs and for a moment you aren't sure if that's a good sign or not. But he tilts his head as he scratches his temple and you realise he's blushing.

"I... would be lying if I said I haven't been thinking about it ever since either." He admits and smirks a little. "I... I did some research on it. I wouldn't- uh, I wouldn't be opposed to trying it with you."

He grunts when you shudder with excitement, inadvertently grinding on his crotch and his hands return to squeezing your hips again.

And it's a while later when you're both stripped completely nude and your lips are pressing kisses all over his body, trailing down his chest and his soft, hairy stomach in the direction of his leaking cock. But you merely lift your mouth away and smirk at him, pressing a single kiss to the tip of his cock before you move down to his balls and nuzzle into them.

He jolts and makes a quiet noise of surprise when you pull at him and grab a pillow to prop under his hips, telling him to hold his legs back by hooking his hands around the back of his knees. He bites his lip and complies, creases forming across his stomach from the curled up position he's in and his leaking cock smears precum through his thick happy trail. And now you have access to it, his puckering little butthole. It makes you salivate, but you check in with Aaron to make sure he's still on board.

With a nod and quiet affirmation from him, you lay down on your stomach and your hands come to grip the backs of his hairy thighs firmly. You lean your head forward and he swallows thickly and as you press a kiss to his inner thigh, he gasps and you feel the muscles move under your hands. You press another kiss to the other thigh and smile when he gasps again. You begin kissing inwardly, closer and closer to where he anticipated your mouth and finally your mouth reaches his pucker. His eyes widen and his head falls back against the pillows and you press another kiss to it.

“Fuck… oh fuck…”

With a grin, you slip your tongue out and swipe at his hole and his body jolts with another gasp. You lick it again. Then again. You begin circling the hole with the tip of your tongue ever so slowly, then swipe it up to his perineum and press a kiss there as well. And when he feels your tongue slip inside the slightly more relaxed muscle, he moans oh so prettily. He feels your grip on his thighs tighten further, almost bruising, and you wiggle your tongue inside him. He can barely form words, a cacophony of noise pouring past his lips whilst you makeout with his rim.

Then, one of your hands moves to grip his shaft and the other massages his balls.

He knows he’s a goner, he’s not going to last long- embarrassingly so- but the increase of broken moans and whines as you work his body eagerly. You want him to cum, he can feel your excitement as he realises you’ve been rolling your hips into the mattress. He grips onto the back of his knees desperately, holding for dear life as his lower body begins to move. He’s fucking your hand, fucking your tongue. And you’re lapping it up with pure delight.

“Baby, I- I’m not gonna last-” he chokes out and you work faster, sucking on his pucker and swirling your thumb around the tip of his twitching, leaky cock. It’s all it takes to push him over the edge. He tenses, his hole tightening around your tongue and he moans your name brokenly whilst the pleasure ripples through his whole being. You jerk him through his orgasm, and he idly feels the spurts of cum hitting his stomach and chest. But he feels so far from it, floating in pleasure as his eyes scrunch closed.

He only comes back to earth when he feels you gently moving his hands from the back of his knees, gently straightening his legs out on the bed and stroking his thighs. He smiles at you softly through hazy eyes and you smirk. You want to clean up the mess on his body, with his permission of course. He groans softly and his spent cock twitches. He certainly won’t say no to that.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sweet Pumpkin Chapter 4

Summary:  Bucky is struggling with the dating world and knows that if he ever hopes to have a serious relationship, that he needs to get through his touch deprivation issues.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch people, or them to touch him, but after decades of pain he doesn’t know how to accept physical intimacy from others, or how to give it himself.  He hires Y/N, an intimacy coach and professional cuddler, who comes highly recommended.  Will his heart be able to distinguish between a service given versus real love?

Warnings: mentions of past violence and past sexual assault, language, physical intimacy, eventual smut

**curvy reader

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky took her out on dates as often as he could, and when they weren’t going out, he was spending time with her in her apartment.  She came over to his apartment once in a while, but he preferred her space.  He was taking it slow with her, wanting to make sure they were both comfortable with each other and the way the relationship was progressing.  He was ready to go all in, but knew with her past and his past that it was going to have to be handled with care.  The farthest they had ever gone was making out with each other while Y/N straddled Bucky’s lap, and that was okay with him, as long as she was okay with it, too.  A couple of months later Sam came to visit him after a long stint of missions.

“Hey Buck,” he said, hugging him.

“Hey Sam,” Bucky greeted him, hugging him back.  “How were the missions?”

“A mess,” Sam rolled his eyes and sighed.  “But what else is new.  How are things going with you?  You still working with Y/N?”

Bucky blushed.  “Uh, yeah I was.  It was really helpful.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at him.  “What was that look?”

“What look?”

“Did you just blush?”

“No.”

“You did!  What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do?”

Sam frowned.  “You’re dating her now, aren’t you?”

Bucky fought a smirk.  “Maybe.”

Sam sighed again but smiled.  “I hope there was no unethical client-therapist type of relationship going on?”

“No, no no no,” Bucky quickly shook his head.  “We didn’t do anything like that.”

Sam nodded.  “But you’re happy?”

Bucky finally smiled at him.  “Yeah.”

He considered Sam a great friend, never needing to fully explain things or speak a lot.  They just understood each other silently.  Sam smirked.  “You better make her happy, or I’ll have to kick your ass.”

Bucky snorted.  “You wish, Birdman.”

***

It was a holiday weekend, and Y/N had taken the time off from her usual clients.  Bucky was laying with her on her bed in her room, talking and casually lounging on a slow Saturday evening.  They were cuddling together, Bucky being the big spoon this time with her back against his front.  His fingers slowly tickled along her side, over her hip and down the side of her leg and up again.  She was playing with his metal fingers.

“I can never get enough of this,” Y/N said suddenly.  “This is just the coolest thing.”

“What?  My arm?” Bucky asked, huffing a laugh.

“Yes!” Y/N exclaimed, pulling his hand up.  “Like…not just the technology aspect of it but the artistry!  To manipulate metal into something that looks lifelike, the ability to make it so you can feel things with it, adjust grip and strength like a normal hand.  And this gold peeking out,” she said in a breathy, reverent tone, her finger sliding along the edge of one of the plates in his palm, “it’s beautiful.”

Bucky smiled at how much she admired a part of him that he still was insecure about.  “It’s definitely useful,” he said nonchalantly.

“I’m sure,” Y/N laughed.  She flicked his palm.  “Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Bucky said.  “It’s more like a pressure thing.  I can’t feel things like pain with it.”

Y/N hummed before pulling his hand closer to her face.  She glanced back at Bucky then focused on his fingers.  She moved her head forward and kissed the tip of his pointer finger.  “How about that?”

Bucky shakily inhaled.  “It’s…yeah, barely.”

Y/N started kissing along his other fingers, twisting his hand each way she wanted.  She then licked at his pointer finger and sucked it into her mouth.  Bucky eyes widened at her actions.  He could feel the pressure of the sucking, but it was watching her mouth lick and suck that had him hardening in his pants.  

“Fuck, pumpkin,” he groaned.

Y/N popped his finger out of her mouth then looked back up at him, feigning an innocent smile.  “Yes?”

“You little tease,” Bucky said lowly.

“You like it,” Y/N said, her ass pushing against his groin.  “I can feel you like it.”

Bucky’s forehead leaned against her shoulder as he restrained himself from thrusting his hips against her.  “Pumpkin,” he warned.

“What do you want, hot stuff?” Y/N asked quietly, rolling her hips back against him again.

Bucky peered up at her.  “I wanna…God, I wanna do a lot of things to you,” said.  “Do you want to?”  Y/N gave him a reassuring smile.  “I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for–”

She quickly turned in his arms to face him, her hands cupping his face and her leg hiking up over his hip.  “I’m ready,” she whispered, kissing him.  “I want to.  I trust you…with all of me,” she rubbed her nose on his then bit her lip.  “I…I love you, Buck.”  Bucky let out a sharp breath at her confession, his eyes widening again.  “I’m in love with you…a lot…probably way too much,” Y/N huffed a laugh, breaking eye contact and looking down.

Bucky lifted her head with his finger under her chin and kissed her deeply.  “I love you Y/N,” he breathed against her lips.  “I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you from the moment you let me touch your face that first day.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and turned watery.  “I want you,” she said, “but um…it’s been a long time, and I’ll need you to be patient and gentle with me.”

“I can’t remember the last time I ever did this,” Bucky said.  “So we’ll take our time.  As long as I get to have your softness,” he said, kissing around her face randomly, “all over and around me.”

Y/N sniffed and nodded at him frantically.  “Please,” she whispered.  

Bucky nodded then kissed her again deeply, his hands slipping up into her hair and down her neck to her back, pulling her close to him.  Y/N’s hands were everywhere, sliding from his neck to behind his back, to his front and down his chest.  He maneuvered himself so he was hovering above her, breaking the kiss so he could start to kiss down her throat, licking and sucking at her skin, learning all the little spots that made her writhe and squirm.  He pulled at the lower hem of her shirt, and she nodded, giving him permission to pull it up and off of her, revealing her nakedness up top.  His hands immediately went to her breasts, softly massaging them, his thumbs rubbing against her nipples.  Her fingers pulled at his shirt, and he quickly pulled it off.  Y/N stared up at his upper half, her fingers tracing along his scars and dips in the muscle.  Bucky dipped his head down and licked her left nipple then sucked it into his mouth, making her moan.  

He gave each of her breasts ample attention before kissing back up to her mouth.  “So beautiful, pumpkin,” he whispered, nipping at her lower lip.  “Can I see all of you?”  Y/N nodded again and he focused on her pajama shorts.  His fingers dipped into the waistband of her shorts and underwear and pulled them down, Y/N helping him by lifting her pelvis.  He threw them off to the side and stared down at her pussy.  “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he breathed.  “Can I taste you?”

Y/N nodded again and he quickly shimmied down the bed until his face was aligned in between her legs.  He spread her legs wider with his hands then kissed right over her clit.  Y/N gasped and her hips jerked.  “I’ve got you, pumpkin,” Bucky said, licking her lower lips.  He licked, sucked, and kissed everywhere, alternating between sticking his tongue as deep into her as he could and then flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue until she was shaking.  He finally sucked her clit harshly, and it was enough to make her cum for the first time, a long, high pitched groan emanating from her throat as her fingers gripped at his hair harshly, her legs shaking against his shoulders.

“Oh my god,” Y/N breathed as she started to come down from the high.  “Bucky…honey, fucking hell.”

“I love it when you call me honey,” Bucky said, kissing her thighs as he sat up and crawled back up so he was hovering over her again.

“I thought you liked hot stuff,” Y/N said breathily as she laughed.

“Both.  Both are good,” he chuckled as he leaned down and kissed her.  

Y/N’s hands moved down and started to push at the hem of his pants.  Bucky quickly got out of his pants and underwear, kicking them off his legs until he was kneeling between her legs completely naked.  She stared at his cock, her eyes slightly widening.  “Now I’m nervous,” she said, looking hesitant.

Bucky laughed again.  “You’re making me feel really special, pumpkin,” he said.  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”  He gripped his cock in his hand, pumping himself a few times.  “Do we need a condom?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head.  “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.”

“I’m clean,” he said, then shuffled forward and slid the tip through her slit, making her shudder.  “Are you sure you want this?” he asked quietly, watching her face carefully.

Y/N smiled up at him.  “I’m sure,” she agreed.

Bucky smiled, then aimed himself at her entrance.  “You ready?”  Y/N nodded, looking down.  Bucky tsked and his metal hand softly grabbed her chin to make her look at him.  “Words, pumpkin.  Are you ready?”  

“Yes,” Y/N said, nodding frantically.  Bucky smirked then let go of her chin.  He started to move forward, and Y/N gasped at the stretch.  He went slow, making sure she wasn’t in physical or emotional pain.  When he was finally in as far as he could go he huffed a heavy breath and Y/N whined.  “Holy shit,” she said.  “That’s…fuck, that’s amazing.”

Bucky tried to keep his wits about him.  She felt so good, and he hadn’t done this in so long he was afraid he’d cum too fast.  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” he breathed, his top half folding over on top of her, his forehead resting against her shoulder.  “You feel so good.  So perfect.”

Y/N hummed and turned her head to kiss his ear.  “Please Bucky, please fuck me.”

Bucky groaned and his hips rutted into hers, pulling a high pitched grunt from her.  He lifted himself back up, his hands gripped her hips, and he started thrusting slowly.  The feeling of being swallowed up in her over and over again was addicting, and he knew he was ruined from that moment on for any other person.  Y/N reached down and pulled his hands away from her hips, then intertwined her fingers with his.  He leaned over her again so that their hands were up by her head.  She stared at him with those intense, knowing eyes of hers.  It all felt so incredibly intimate, soft, special, that he could barely look into those eyes.  He kissed her again, and she released her hands from his grip to wrap around his back, keeping him close and chest to chest with her.  

Bucky wrapped his metal arm under her neck, his forearm turned upward so his hand could tangle into her hair while he kissed her, his flesh hand reaching down and hiking her left leg higher over his hip, helping him drive further into her.  “Sweet pumpkin,” he murmured against her lips.  “Thank you.”

Y/N’s nails scratched down his back.  “For what?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

“For trusting me,” Bucky breathed.  “For wanting me.  For loving me.”  His hips started to move faster, chasing his release.  “Fuck, I’m close…”

Y/N hummed at his change of pace.  “Thank you for being so soft…and sweet…and gentle with me,” she whispered.  It was as if she was afraid of ruining the moment they were in.  “Please honey…”

Bucky moaned loudly at the pet name, hugging her tighter and keeping his face near her face.  He snuck his flesh hand between their bodies and started rubbing and flicking at her clit.  “I’ve got you, Y/N.  Can I cum inside you?  Please?”

Y/N moaned and nodded.  “Fuck yes,” she said lowly.

“Goddammit,” Bucky swore, his thrusts getting harder.  He flicked her clit quickly and then she stiffened, her back arching as she shook under him and came with a loud cry of his name.  The way her pussy squeezed him had him seeing stars and he came with a long groan, kissing her again and licking into her mouth.  They panted against each other’s mouths, Bucky resting his forehead against hers and staring at her.  He reveled in the exhausted, fucked-out look on her face, and kissed her everywhere he could reach, making her giggle.  “So good, pumpkin.  My god…so fucking good.  My pretty, sweet pumpkin…”

Y/N sighed, her breath huffing against his face.  “God, I love you,” she breathed, a tired smile on her face.

Bucky kissed her lips again, giving her short, chaste pecks and nuzzling his nose on her nose.  “I love you,” he said quietly.

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @cjand10 @railmesebstan

[theemporium]

A number 15 green-eyed mojito with Nico💚

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

15. "What would I be jealous about?”

.

“You’re staring.” 

“I’m observing.”

“If looks could kill, he would be dead.”

“Tragic.” 

“Oh my god,” Jack grumbled under his breath, shooting his captain a concerned look before shaking his head. “Remind me not to piss you off.” 

Nico rolled his eyes. “You piss me off quite often, actually.”

“I—” Jack paused, his eyes narrowing as he lightly jabbed his side with his elbow. “One, that was rude. Two, you need to calm down. You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend and you aren’t even her boyfriend. You’re just the jealous part.”

Nico scoffed, but he didn’t tear his eyes away from you. 

Because, as much as it pained him to admit, Jack was right. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend and he was fully aware of that. But it wasn’t like self-awareness couldn’t exactly stop the bitter feelings bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man openly flirt with you. 

“You know,” Jack continued, something quite like amusement in his voice. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you just grew the balls to ask her out.” 

And he hated that Jack was right again. 

The crush he had been harbouring on you was obvious to everyone with a pair of working eyes. Or at least, everyone except you. Since the day you started on the team, Nico had been all lovesick smiles and longing gazes, practically throwing himself at any social media opportunity he could just so he could spend time with you. It was a little embarrassing and pathetic, all things considered. 

But the worst part was that it had been a better part of two years and Nico had made no move to confess his feelings towards you.

Which then led to moments like now, where Nico had no real reason to feel as irritated as he was over some guy from the media team flirting with you.

“Shut up,” was all he managed to mutter out.

“This is actually really sad to watch,” Jack muttered before sighing deeply. “Just know that I’m doing this because, as your friend and alternate, I’m worried about you possibly breaking your jaw before making a move.”

Nico frowned a little. “What are you—”

But before Nico could even stop whatever stupid move Jack was going to pull, he was calling out your name and waving his hands in such an exaggerated and overly dramatic manner that Nico felt his cheeks heating up. 

“I hate you,” Nico muttered under his breath as you began making your way over.

“You’re about to hate me so much more but I know you love me,” Jack whispered back before he grinned at you, the words leaving his mouth so quick that Nico almost thought he imagined it when the younger boy said, “Nico is jealous.” 

And then, the fucker was running off and leaving a gaping Nico in the dust to deal with the consequences.

You blinked in surprise before you turned to the boy. “You’re jealous?” 

“Me? Jealous? What would I be jealous about?” Nico attempted to laugh off, but it was forced and dry and it didn’t quite land the way he wanted to when he noticed your brows furrowing in concern. “Jack is just messing about, don’t listen to him.”

“Really?” You questioned, watching as Nico quickly nodded in response. “So it has nothing to do with the fact you have spent the last fifteen minutes glaring at Thomas?” 

Nico blinked, feeling the blush spread from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. “Uh—”

“For what it’s worth, I’m not interested in him,” you said.

“Oh.” He couldn’t bring himself to care how happy he sounded, how hopeful.

“I’m interested in someone else,” you continued.

“Oh.” The disappointment was clear and heavy in his voice, inklings of the previous jealousy sinking into his response.

“You might know him,” you added, trying to bite back your smile when you watched his nose scrunch up. “He’s a hockey player, has a cute accent and pretty brown eyes. Think he might even be the captain or something.” 

Blood roared in his ears and he was pretty sure his smile was going to split his cheeks, but he didn’t care. “Really?”

“Yeah, but he’s a little blind,” you teased, almost looking a little bashful despite the unwavering confidence in your voice. “I’ve been waiting for him to ask me out but he hasn’t been catching my hints.”

“He sounds a little stupid,” Nico murmured. Maybe he would’ve felt embarrassed if his heart didn’t feel like it was about to beat out of his own chest. “But I bet he’s wondering if you’re free at seven tonight.”

“Let him know it’s a date,” you said, grinning right back at him.

.

[grave-z-boy]

are you comfortable with writing about a transman? if so id like to see arthur morgan comforting ftm!reader, maybe calling him a "good boy" to make him happy x

Arthur Morgan x Trans!male!reader

Summary: Reader runs into an old family member and is desperately in need of comfort afterwards. (Once again making excuses to be sad and transgender)

Words: 1264

Warning: hurt/comfort, pre-transition reader is referred to as “dead” and “little girl” by reader, reader threatens his cousin, shitty family members.

A/n: shorter fic cuz I've been banging my head against the wall trying to get the rest of my writing back.

Masterlist

“You need to eat.”

You glanced up at Arthur, the fire between the two of you illuminating him in a orange glow. Your food had gone cold, and you didn’t mean to be wasteful, but today was…a lot. You shifted uncomfortably on the large rock you'd perched yourself on.

“‘M not hungry.”

You heard him sigh as you stared down at your plate.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or are you just gonna sit there and sulk.”

“It's nothing-”

It was something, it was definitely something. You went into town on your own, bright and early so you could be in and out of the shops and get back to camp while the sun was still up. That was the plan, pick up some spices, and oddly enough a picture frame, Arthur had asked for it but he said it wasn't for him, probably gonna be a gift of some kind, you didn't think too much about it.

While you were making sure you're satchel was still secure, you heard a familiar voice.

“D/n?” he called from across the street.

You froze, but just for a moment, you tried climbing onto your horse as fast as you could by you were stopped by a firm grip on your shoulder. Turning, you saw him, right in front of you, your cousin, your asshole of a cousin, Damian.

“Well I'll be damned, it is you!”

Taking a breath you said, “Do I know you?”

“‘Do you’- d/n stop playing around!”

His voice was loud, loud enough to garner unwanted attention from those around you.

“I don't know no d/n sir, you've got the wrong man, now you best take your hand off me before you lose it.”

He backed off, a small apologetic yet nervous smile on his face, “sorry, you just uh, look an awful lot like my little cousin.”

Finally mounting your horse, you looked down at the man. You didn't say anything, just holding his gaze in yours for a long moment before giving him a quick nod and riding off.

You rode out of town faster than you should have, gaining various shouts and complaints from the townspeople who'd nearly stepped in your way.

As you broke out into the open road, your mind swelled with thoughts.

D/n was dead, she’d been dead a long, long time and you really didn't need reminders of her life, especially not the parts she hated.

You didn't want to hate your cousin, you just did. He was an ass and so was the rest of his family, you guess that technically included you too, but you never really felt like they were your family- even when you were little. You were different, so they treated you different. You never knew what tipped them off so early. Maybe you played with the boys too much, or you were too rough with the girls. Whatever it was, they knew before you did, they considered their daughter dead before she was, and they treated you like you killed her.

You liked being dead now, you thought you wouldn't have to worry about your family anymore, they had a whole funeral for you and everything, you figured that they'd move on, that if you did run into them, they'd take you as a ghost and nothing more. Your cousin was always an asshole though, and could never quiet get with the program, that made y'all alike in some ways, but mostly it just drew a bigger rift between you and your family. Everybody loved him, but they hated you, wasn't that funny?

You skid to a stop right outside of camp, zoning back into your surroundings just in time. Hoping off your horse, petting her for a short moment before tying her to a post.

It didn't take long for Arthur to find you, having only been in camp a couple of minutes before he spotted you. Before he even reached you, he could see the grim look on your face as you sat on your cot, glaring at the ground.

Arthur sat next to you, rubbing your back with his hand for a short moment. Arthur wasn't really a touchy person, not in front of people at least, a soothing touch on the back was as close to a kiss as you'd get with this many people around.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for a short moment before starting back down at the ground below.

It didn't take much for him to convince you to take a ride with him, especially when he offered to let you ride his horse with him, you appreciated it, knowing that yours would have bucked you off the moment you saddled her after you nearly ran her through camp. You almost felt bad- when you climbed on the horse behind Arthur, watching him avert his gaze from anyone who looked in your direction.

He wasn't ashamed, you knew that, he was just private, didn't like it when people paid too much attention to your relationship, or you at all for that matter.

You rode together for a long while, once you figured the road was clear enough, you wrapped your arms around Arthur and rested against his back, you felt him tense, then ask if you were okay, you nodded, he relaxed after a moment, quietly continuing down the road, he knew you weren't alright, not fully, but he figured talking could wait a couple of hours.

Now you're here, you sat on a rock while Arthur set up camp, when you mumbled an offer to help, he shot it down, reassuring you it was fine.

By the time food was cooked, the sun had set completely, the fire being the only source of light.

“- I swear I just…ran into somebody today.”

You could here the faint clink of silverware against the bowl as Arthur set it to the side.

“‘Somebody’ like who?”

You sighed.

“Like my cousin, Damien, ran into him in town today.”

You weren't fully sure you told Arthur about Damien, but when you looked up at him over the fire you could see a look of annoyance on his face, so you had to at least have mentioned him and his aggravating exploits.

“It's stupid, I just… I don't know. I thought that I would never run into them again, or maybe that they wouldn't recognize me if they did. But he called that little girl's name and it just felt like my heart had stopped.”

Starting down at the dirt, you heard Arthur push himself up off the ground, the dirt crunching beneath his boots. Then he was sitting right next to you, the stone just big enough to hold two queers at once. Meeting his eyes again, you opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a long, tired sigh.

“I know, “ he said, his voice so calm and soft, a tone reserved for those that deserved it, “come here, boy..”

And you did, leaning your head on his shoulder, buried in the nook of his neck, your arms just barely around him in an effort. He wrapped his arms around you far tighter, pulling you into him, feeling your shallow breaths as the day's events replayed in your mind.

“That's it, good boy,” he muttered.

A small smile formed on your face. You hummed in contentment, squeezing him a bit tighter, forcing a small chuckle out of him.

“You liked that?” you nodded, he laughed again.

“It's helping..”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

[eggcompany]

Dumb Dog Part 1

It's not Derek's fault when he's hurt he wants Stiles. He can't help the warm loose headspace the younger man pulls him into. Stiles didn't know when he found Derek in his bed after school it would lead to this. He didn't even consider it possible. He never thought he'd end up being the werewolf's personal rut toy.

Or that one day he'd be fucking into the alpha, be held so close, listening to his desperate little sounds. Life's always been like that for them though, hasn't it

Derek nearly * died *. He deserved some proper pack cuddles. But Scott was busy with Allison and Stiles kept his window unlocked. It really wasn’t his fault when he crawled through the window and spent a few hours laying in the pile of dirty laundry before stripping himself out of his dirty clothes and climbing into the soft, good smelling bed. 

~~~

Stiles came home from school, humming the tune to some song or maybe it was two songs that sounded sort of the same but it didn’t matter. At least not when he opened his bedroom door and the curtains were drawn and there was something on his bed. 

“Oh my god what the fuck is that” Stiles said out loud as he switched on his light to see what it was. He was sort of scared that it was something horrible, something that he probably shouldn’t just blast in the face with the bright ceiling light. But he didn’t need to worry. It was only Derek. 

A growling, grumbling Derek. In his bed. Under his blankets. 

“Dude why are you in my room? Actually that doesn’t surprise me that much. Why are you in my bed?” Stiles asked but flicked the light back off and dropped his back pack by his desk. He toed off his shoes and sat down on his rolly chair, looking expectantly at the lump on his bed, only black spikes of hair showing.

“Hurt” Derek grumbled and Stiles rolled his eyes waving his hand even though Derek had his face buried in the comforter. 

“And? I know you’re hurt. I pulled an arrow out of your back. Yesterday.” Stiles said in a flat way. He knew Derek was hurt. He’d yanked a poison tipped arrow out of the wolf yesterday. There had been a trap laid and Derek had fallen in, the arrows were posted like spikes, easily stabbing the wolf in the side. It had created a massive wound, having rotted away most of the flesh that surrounded it. Gruesome, to say the least. Derek huffed, tired from being awake, frustrated at why Stiles so far away and why he was still talking .  

“Wolves pack up, we heal better together. Scott would be more effective but you’re more available.” Derek explained and Stiles nodded. He was second choice for weird wolf rituals. Great. 

“So why are you in my bed?” The younger man asked again, trying to get to an actual answer. Derek huffed and sat up, face pale and sweaty, dark circles carved around his eyes. Stiles gasped a little, he couldn’t help it. Derek looked like a ghost in the dim light. 

“Fuck, I need to be close to someone to heal faster. I have a massive hole in my back and being near someone is going to get it over with faster. You can sit on the bed or get in here with me, just help me.” Derek explained and started to get more breathless. He looked… desperate. Begging almost, like a wet dog looking through the window. Stile smirked and rolled his eyes. 

“You want me to cuddle with you?” He asked, joking. Mostly. That was until Derek nodded, huffing as he laid back down exhausted from it all already. Stile just stared at him, waiting for it to be a joke. He promptly ignored the feeling in his stomach. 

The younger man just cleared his throat and turned around to his desk, pulling out his books and his laptop. 

“Uh yeah. Okay. I’m going to finish typing my essay and stuff then. Dad’s on nights this week so I’m just going to have leftover lasagna for dinner. You can have some too, uh if you want some.” Stiles said, trying to sound very very normal. Even as his stomach did weird flips. 

It worked, Derek was quiet and still and Stiles actually got most of his essay finished. It was fine. It was okay. 

Well actually, it was okay until Derek started to whimper. He was asleep, deep asleep, but twitching and whimpering, mouth twisted up like he was hurting bad. He was twisting around to lay on his side instead of his belly, knees drawing up closer to his body, shoulders jerking. 

Stiles watched him from his desk for a minute before turning back around to his laptop. But he couldn’t help but worry there was something wrong so he stood at the foot of the bed and shoved the frame a bit. 

“Dude, wake up. Are you alright?” Stiles asked before Derek was wiggling the blanket away from his face, showing his snarling face. Not hurt. Nightmare. 

Stiles shook his ankle, trying to wake him out of it. He didn’t think about how weird it was that Derek didn’t have any leg hair. 

“Derek, Derekkkk, wake up! Dude you’re having a nightmare. Wake up, c'mon dude don’t freak out on me” Stiles tried to wake him, he spoke at a regular level, scared a yell would cause Derek to wolf out. 

Derek just curled up and sobbed, eyelashes getting teary, foot jerking out of Stiles' grasp. The human rushed to stand by his head, hands flittering around, unsure whether or not to actually touch the wolf or not. 

He ended up rubbing Derek’s shoulder and oh. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt. Stiles just didn’t want to hurt him since yeah he had a huge hole in his back. Which, once the blanket was shoved off Derek’s shoulders, was starting to show. It was more healed than the last time Stiles had seen it but it was still pretty bad, angry red rimmed with black ooze staining the gauze that covered the worst of it. 

“Derek, cmon wake up. Ugh you’re a big dog. Wake up a dog… ears?” Stiles talked to himself before pushing his hand into the thick dark hair that was damp with sweat. He stroked the top of Derek’s head, which only made him twitch more but when the human finally scrubbed behind Derek’s normal ears, the wolf sighed, relaxing. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and rubbed over the creases of Derek’s ears with the pads of his fingers. The wolf’s entire body relaxed, a grumble rolling from him which Stiles took as a positive. 

“Yeah, yeah, you big mutt.” Stiles said and kept scratching the unfairly soft hair behind Derek’s ears. It was nice actually, the way Derek relaxed and fell back to calm sleep. His face was so relaxed even with the dark circles under his eyes and the sick pale that was taking over his skin, he looked beautiful. Beautiful? Handsome. A good looking guy. Yeah. Not weird to think your friend is handsome. Handsome. 

But for some reason Stiles couldn’t peel his eyes away from the way Derek’s soft looking lips were parted and the slightest glint of white teeth showed between them. The way his eyelashes were like fans cast down over his perfect cheekbones. The way his big hands were laying on the bed in front of his bare chest. Oh his chest , stiles thought as he slowly peeled the blanket down further, just a few inches. Just to get a better look at the perfectly smooth skin of Derek’s chest. So soft looking, nipples perked up once the blanket exposed them to the cooler room air. 

Stiles was dizzy. And hard. This was Derek’s fault not his.

“Are you going to maul me if I lay next to you?” Stiles asked, hoping maybe Derek was awake or would say he could leave now or something. 

He was met with nothing, of course. Just a peaceful sleeping werewolf. 

“Fine, it’s fine, whatever.” Stiles finally decided and flipped the blankets, his blankets, up on the opposite side of Derek. This was his bed. He could take an afternoon nap in his bed if he wanted to. 

“Dude… pants off and all? This is my bed.” Stiles said exasperated and stripped out of his own shirts, toeing off his socks too. He kept his own pants on, needing some extra protection over his hardon. Just in case. 

Stiles shook out his arms and tried to relax. It was his bed. Afternoon nap. With an almost naked werewolf. Almost naked, very very hot buff guy with a bulge the size of Texas in his worn out grey briefs. Don’t look at his bulge, Stiles told himself and then looked again. Derek’s briefs were snug, holding onto his thick hips and cradling his bulge in a way that made Stiles feel like he was on fire. And maybe a bit self conscious. And a little impressed, if he was honest. 

“Not my fault. Not my fault. He was in my bed first. Not my fault.” Stiles told himself as he laid down, back to Derek, and covered them both back up under the blankets. He laid perfectly still, mind trying to record everything it could. 

Derek was… warm. Snuggly too especially when he threw his arm over Stiles chest and his leg over the human’s own. Stile’s refused to move but Derek pulled them together, chest to back, head to toe touching. Like he was trying to get rid of any air between their bodies. 

Derek was heavy. And big. And warm. And his dick was actually in the crease of Stiles' ass. The wolf’s arm was fuzzy and warm and his hand was huge and rough where it cradled the side of Stiles peck, his thigh was massive, and where his scruff was against Stiles neck made him feel a shivery kind of arousal. 

Stiles was… hard. Mostly. But also nervous, especially after a few minutes Derek made a whine and twitched again. Bucking. Hips twitching. Stiles gasped but Derek was squeezing him, arm tightening, thigh shifting higher to lineup so his bulge was rubbing right between Stiles ass, hips shoving. 

Stiles was shocked for a minute before the next thrust came and he realized what he was being used for. He was thankful for keeping his jeans on. 

“Fuck… Derek. Don’t do that.” Stiles said weakly as he clung Derek’s wrist where he was holding the human close, not letting Stiles get away. 

Derek just kept going, hips shoving and thrusting, huge hard cock pressing against Stiles' ass. The rhythm was steady. Long thrusts forward and then slow drags back. It was making Stiles breathless. The heat now radiating from the wolf, the drag of thin cotton over thick denim, the wet pants that were being blown over the sensitive back of his neck. 

“Dumb dog, stupid fucking…. Derek come on” Stiles begged as the wolf’s mouth opened, hot breaths turning into the graze of sharp pearly teeth and wet tongue.

Derek let out a growl, pulling Stiles closer, teeth pressing into Stiles' skin, breaths becoming whiny sounds. His hips were shoving harder against Stiles, like he was trying to shove through the clothes to actually fuck him. Like he was desperate for just a little more. 

Which was… Stiles barely ever kissed anyone. Let along had sex. With a guy. Who was a werewolf. With a huge cock. Huge cock and obviously very powerful hips. Stiles was paling at the idea but then Derek was whimpering. 

“Please…. Please…” Derek begged, stubble rough on Stiles ears. Stiles couldn’t help the twisty feeling getting tighter in his gut. It was such a desperate begging whimper. 

“Derek” Stiles finally responded and rolled around so he was facing Derek. The wolf’s hips kept rocking toward Stiles even as his eyes opened and found Stiles' own brown ones. 

“You’re awake.” Stiles whispered, he would be mad if Derek wasn’t grinding their crotches together. Derek just whined, eyes all big and full of need. 

“Let me. Let me play mate you. Please? It helps. I’ll make you cum too.” Derek asked and his shaky hands pulled at Stiles' jeans waistband. Stiles was staring at him in shock. What? His brain was on half speed but he didn’t just…

“What?” Stiles asked confused and Derek let out a whine, pushing his face to Stiles to just nuzzle at his lips and cheek. Stiles' eyes fluttered as the soft graze of Derek’s lips ghosted across his own as he rubbed their faces together. The wolf spoke into the soft space under Stiles' ear. 

“Play mating… won’t mate you. Just… rubbing. Skin to skin with you, I’m hurt, don’t know what I’m saying. Just let me please Stiles” Derek begged and pushed his forehead against Stiles, big eyes all full of puppy want. It wasn’t fair. 

Stiles swallowed and nodded, rolling back over so they were spooned together. 

“Fine but when you’re sober I’m blaming you for this. Don’t kiss me. Underwear stays on.” Stiles decided and unbuttoned his jeans, wiggling them under his butt. He felt Derek’s smile as he shoved his face into Stiles' soft half grown out hair. 

“Thank you, thank you, so nice, thank you” Derek said happily and fished his hard cock out of his briefs, spending no time shoving between Stiles' thighs, moaning at the tight soft relief on himself. Stiles was in awe as he looked down and could see the tip of Derek’s cock. 

Derek was in a hurry, head all blurry and off kilter. He quickly fucked into the precum slicked passage of Stiles' thighs, chasing the good feeling that was getting more and more overwhelming. Stiles bit one of his own hands, trying not to let any embarrassing noises out while his other hand held onto Derek’s forearms where it was holding across his chest again. 

Stiles was so close, even without touching himself. Derek was making short ‘ hah, hah, hah’ sounds followed by long whines. The entire bed moved with each of the wolf’s thrusts, the way he pulled his hips back until just his tip was trapped between Stiles' legs before slamming back forward. The feeling of such a big burning hot cock rubbing across the underside of his own cock and balls was enough to have Stiles' gasping. 

He was tensing his thighs, trying to keep from cumming when Derek yelled out. Short, higher pitch than  what Stiles would have expected, and matched with arms squeezing the air out of Stiles.  It only took Stiles being able to breathe again to realize the wetness between his legs. 

“Done?” Stiles asked, trying to act cool as he reached down to his own dick, giving the base a good squeeze. Derek hummed, nuzzling into the human’s hair and body slowly relaxing, like he was melting. Stiles felt relieved and started to stroke himself, short and quick, he was covered in precum already. He was nearly there, feeling himself toeing the line as a rough palm covered his hand. 

“Let me” Is all Derek said, sleepily but his hand was sure and heavy. Stiles took his own hand away to cover his mouth. Derek pumped him quickly, grip a little loose, but enough so Stiles was moaning out after a few strokes. After spilling across the bed, Stiles felt the need to get up, to say something to clear the air. But Derek just hummed and grabbed Stiles' hip, hand wet. 

He was fast asleep before Stiles could even get a word out. 

Stiles laid there, trying to get it through his mind that what they just did was kinda sex. And kinda amazing. And he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time Derek ended up rutting against him. 

Next Chapter ->

[munson-blurbs]

hi ^^ can you do best friend!eddie teaching virgin!reader how to give head ?? like she’s so curious how it all works and i feel like eddie would be so vocal omg like so instructional while trying to keep his cool lol

I know this trope has been done a lot, so I hope y'all enjoy my take on it 💚

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (m!receiving), fem!Reader, kinda perv!Eddie, mention of weed, Eddie & Reader are both over 18

WC: 1.8k

--

The cafeteria is buzzing with conversation, including the table where you sit amongst the Hellfire boys. Mike and Lucas are arguing over something–you can’t be bothered to pay attention to their constant squabbles anymore–while Dustin is whining about his failing Spanish grade to Gareth and Jeff.

The only ones not talking are you and, surprisingly, Eddie. He’s nibbling on a pretzel, reminding you of one of the bunny rabbits that congregates in your yard. You’re not exactly sure why he’s so quiet, but you take this opportunity to whisper, “Can we go out to your van for a sec?”

His eyebrows pinch together in confusion; if you wanted weed from him, you would wait until after school hours to buy. Well, buy wasn’t the right word, considering Eddie always gave you yours for free.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, sliding his chair back from the table without bothering to push it back in. If one of the meathead jocks happens to trip over it and twist an ankle before their precious game, that’s not his problem.

You wait until you’re outside, away from anyone who could possibly overhear the absurd request you’re about to make, before you start speaking. “So, um, you know how I have that date tonight? With Mark?” you ask, biting your lower lip nervously. You can taste the strawberry gloss that you’d reapplied after finishing lunch.

Eddie’s already digging through the glove compartment for the baggie he keeps stashed away. “You want some for him, too?” His tone is impatient; irritated, even, as he pulls out the blunt he’s already rolled for you. “Because I only brought one.” For you, he adds silently.

“Wha–oh, no; I didn’t need any weed,” you tell him, shaking your head before dropping your gaze to the gravel beneath your feet. “It’s our third date, and I was thinking he might wanna…y’know…do stuff?” You cringe at the phrasing, but press on. “But I…I don’t really know how.”

“Sweetheart, if you’re confessing your virgin status to me, I already know,” Eddie says with a smirk. “I mean, we’ve been friends for a million years. If you did it and didn’t tell me, I’d be pissed.”

You manage a giggle at his candidness. “Nope, still a virgin,” you report miserably. “And last time, he asked me to give him head, but I told him I had to get home. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t wanna do it wrong.”

Eddie shrugs. “Just don’t use teeth,” he replies casually. “Other than that, there isn’t much you can do wrong.” He starts back towards the school, pausing when he realizes that you’re not by his side. “Look, I don’t have any other tips. I’ve only ever been on the, uh, receiving end of dick sucking.”

“Yeah, well,” you mumble, shoving your hands in your pockets and brushing the toe of your sneaker against the ground, “that’s kinda what I wanted to ask you. I was thinking that maybe I could…practice on you?”

Eddie’s eyes practically pop out of his head. “You…you wanna do what?”

“Forget it. It’s stupid, I’m sorry. Can we never talk about this again?” Tears well up in your eyes, and you try to blink them away before he can notice. What were you thinking? Asking your best friend if you could give him a blowjob?

“Hey, no, I just wanted to make sure that’s what you meant.” He smiles, letting his hand graze yours. “Do you mind…in my van?”

You nod, returning his smile with your own shy one. “Um, yeah. I mean, no, I don’t mind. I can give you head in your van.” 

Eddie swallows a lump in his throat, opening the back door and helping you inside. He lays down on the shag carpet–the one you always tease him about–and pats his thigh. “C’mon over.” He watches as you timidly straddle his waist, trying not to sit down on his lap. “You’re not gonna crush me, y’know,” he jokes lightly. “And even if you did, s’not like I’d be mad about it.”

You hesitate but ultimately let yourself rest on him; immediately, his cock starts to stiffen, and you pull back. “Shit, I-”

“S’okay,” Eddie says, tilting his head. He’s not about to let you know that this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten him hard; just the first time you know about. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Fingers fumbling with his belt, you pull on the strip of leather until the shiny metal clasp unhooks from its notch. He undoes the silver button on his pants but lets you tug his zipper down until you get a glimpse of his blue-and-white checked boxers. “Can I take these off?” you ask.

“Y-Yeah, ‘course,” he stutters, sitting back on his elbows to give you more leverage. You have to keep yourself from gawking at his hardened length as it rests against his Iron Maiden shirt, tip leaking a pearly bead of pre-cum. He mistakes your awe for nerves, and he quickly adds, “if you changed your mind, I’m not gonna be mad or anything–”

“No,” you shake your head. “I just d-don’t know where to start.”

Relief visibly floods his body. “I like being teased a little. Like, kissing it or licking it–holy fucking shit.” His train of thought is abruptly cut off when your tongue flattens against the base of his shaft, dragging upwards until you reach the head. His lithe fingers grab onto the collar of your cotton t-shirt, twisting the fabric around them just to steady himself. 

“Like that?” you ask, giving him eyes that are far too innocent for someone who just coated his dick with her saliva. 

“J-Jus’ like that,” Eddie nods, gripping your shirt tighter as your lips brush against his length with tiny, measured pecks. “And then you’ll wanna–fuck–wanna focus on the tip. Wrap your lips around it, there you go.” His toes curl as you lower your mouth, licking at the saltiness. “Make, like, circles w-with your tongue.” 

You do as he says, feeling him twitch against your parted lips. A wanton moan escapes him, and it’s music to your ears. A sign that you’re doing something right. 

“When you’re ready—Jesus H. Christ, your mouth feels s’fucking good—hollow out your cheeks and kinda…glide down? I dunno, all the blood is rushing to my dick right now.”

You blanche as you reposition yourself, glancing at his girth. “Eddie, I…I don’t think I can fit all of you in my mouth.”

His fingernails could tear through your shirt with the grip he has. “Shit, y-you can’t say that. Actually, you can. Tell me how fuckin’ big I am, baby.”

Baby. You try not to let this new pet name distract you as you say, “you’re huge, Eddie. I won’t be able to take it.”

“Yeah? Gonna choke on my cock?” Eddie growls, momentarily forgetting his role as oral sex tutor. “S-Sorry. Um, if you can’t, you can use your hand to help you out.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching back down. One hand rests on his thigh while the other wraps around the base of his dick. He hisses at your touch, and you smile despite the butterflies in your stomach. 

“M-Might help if you spit on it. My, um, my dick.”

The trail of saliva drips down until it reaches his wiry patch of pubic hair. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few more times for good measure before opening your mouth a bit wider and bringing your head down. 

“Thassit, keep doin’ that. Don’t worry about getting it all; jus’ do what you can.” His knees tremble as you move a bit faster. “You can do the t-tongue thing when you come back up. I really like that, fuck.” 

You want to ask about the pace: is it too fast? Too slow? But when you lift your gaze to meet his—your lips still on his length—he lets out a whimper. A fucking whimper. 

“Yes, look at me, baby. Look at me while you blow me,” he pants. “Wanna see your cute little mouth stuffed full of my cock.” And if that wasn’t enough, what he says next could stop a bullet in mid-air: “You’re better than I ever imagined.”

That’s enough to warrant you to ask a follow-up question, and Eddie could cry when you pull away. “You imagined this?”

“Mhm,” he squeaks out. “Wanted you f’so long. Please just keep going. Please don’t stop.”

So you don’t. You find your rhythm, using his groans and twitches to find what he really likes. It’s messy and different but so fucking right. 

“Hnng, baby, ‘m gonna cum. You might wanna—”

But you shake your head gently, not wanting to break the momentum you’ve built. You lock eyes with him, silently telling him that it’s okay.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. You can spit it out if you don't wanna swallow, pretty girl. B-but ‘m about to c-cum—fucking shit!” You take as much of him as you can until you start to gag, and you feel his hot release hit the back of your throat. It’s a lot; much more than you’d anticipated, but you swallow it all. 

Eddie stares at you incredulously, momentarily speechless. “Did you just…?”

“Was I not supposed to?” The intimacy of it only dawns on you now. He’s just teaching you, and now you’re going on a date with someone after swallowing his cum. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

He barks out a laugh. “Do not apologize for that. Just wasn’t expecting it.” He sits all the way up, adjusting his softening dick and re-fastening his pants. “So…that’s how you give a blowjob. Any questions?”

There’s an awkward silence as you contemplate, ultimately deciding to ask. I mean, you’d just performed oral sex on him; he could answer a measly personal question. 

“When you said you wanted me for so long…did you mean that? Or were you just saying it?”

Eddie’s gaze is suddenly glued to the van floor. “Look, you’re with Mark now. I can’t…”

“Did. You. Mean. It?” You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for his response. 

He relents after a moment. “Yes, I meant it. I’ve had this big, stupid crush on you, but I kept making excuses not to ask you out, and then you got with Mark—”

You cut his rant short with a clumsy kiss, noses hitting each other as you press your lips to his. You stumble a bit and he catches you, bringing his hands to your hips. “I have a big, stupid crush on you, too,” you admit, “but I figured you would’ve asked me out if you felt the same way.”

This time, Eddie kisses you, soft and sweet. “I can taste myself on your lips,” he murmurs into you. One finger grazes your pants button. “Do me a favor?”

“Yes, I’ll cancel with Mark,” you say, teasing but truthful. 

“I mean, you fuckin’ better,” he laughs, but he shakes his head. “Nah, I need you to lie down f’me.”

Your brow creases. “Why?”

“A gentleman always returns the favor.”

--