#honeys drabbles

[satsugo]

୨୧ like imagine booking a flight with bakugo, he pays for y’all to sit together, and some random lady thinks she’s bold enough to claim your seat??? you’re ready to go full feral but he gets there first 😭 protective, pissed-off katsuki just hits different okay mlist.

bakugo katsuki x reader

He paid extra.

That’s the only thing keeping him from blowing up the goddamn row — the fact that his name is on the ticket and he paid to sit right next to you. Not behind you. Not across the aisle. Next to you.

But now, there’s this woman — maybe late twenties, maybe just miserable — parked in your spot like she owns the whole damn cabin. Earbuds in, tray table already down, arms spilling over the divider like the seat was hers by birthright.

“No,” she says, flat and smug when you politely point out that she's in the wrong seat. “I’m not moving. The flight's full.”

Your eye twitches. You’re halfway to popping off — ready to ruin her whole day — but before you can even breathe fire, a hand slips around your waist, grounding.

Bakugo.

He steps forward, jaw set like stone, and says — low, venomous, restrained:

“She’s in the wrong fucking seat.”

It’s not loud. Not yet. But the weight behind it? Unmistakable.

The woman scoffs, opens her mouth to argue — but Bakugo’s eyes are already narrowing. “I paid extra to sit next to her. You wanna call the attendant or should I?”

You watch her shrink. A muttered curse, a grumble, and then — with more noise than necessary — she stands up and stomps down the aisle.

Bakugo doesn’t even look at her. Just turns to you, gaze flicking over your face.

“Tch. You were really about to go full psycho on her, huh?”

You blink. “And you weren’t?”

He smirks — but it’s soft, barely there. “Nah. I was just gonna make her cry.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[tired-biscuit]

i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!

he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.

always in a good way when it’s with him.

especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.

but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.

however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.

but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.

he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.

you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.

this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.

because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.

if only you could just—

“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”

“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.

“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.

“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.

it seems like you’re no quitter either.

“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”

you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.

maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.

“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.

unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.

it’s definitely progress.

and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.

[honeyroots]

do you think dean or ben like to go down on their partners

YES !! wait hold on anon, you've inspired me:

MDNI. 18+

DEAN WINCHESTER - dean winchester wants you to sit on his face when he's craving you. he wants to be stifled by your core, only able to breathe against it as he laps it up. he keeps his hands on your thighs so you don't try to shut them when you begin to get overstimulated. as soon as you start squirming, the inevitable restlessness taking over, he reassures you, "i know it's a lot. it's okay, you're doing so well. just one more, baby," because he NEEDS to taste your orgasm again. feeling the vibration of his voice against your thighs, his lips moving against your sex as he speaks brings you over the edge.

SOLDIER BOY (BEN) - ben thinks that eating pussy in a right of passage for a man. he likes to be head buried into you, nose flicking your clit as he moves his head back and forth. but don't forget that sometimes ben can be a little mean— he wants you completely submissive to him, so he's eating your cunt over your underwear, making sure you're in a pair of white cotton panties. nothing special, but light colored enough that when his spit (mixed with your arousal) sinks into the fabric, he can see the outline of your core. "there she is," he would taunt you, looking up at you with a gleam in his eyes, "you just get so excited to see me, sweetheart."

[softh0neycomb]

Baker!Reader X Butcher!Simon

First little noodlings

You’re sat in your local Costa, sadly picking at an overpriced, sad sandwich and lukewarm coffee. Chains are never your first option if you can help it, but this small town doesn’t have a local cafe open past 10am.

Another sigh, you could do it so much better, you think, grimacing at a bite of soggy bread. As a baker, you know good bread and this, this is not good bread.

How difficult can it be, really, you sip from your cup; musing.

You could do it, you think, you already have a steady business as an online bakery and a presence at the closest local markets, known for your delicate bakes with pretty decorations.

The savoury side of things though…you know what’d you’d do, sandwiches with homemade focaccia, doorstep thick toast, savoury pastries.

It’d have to be right though. The voice pops up unbidden and you bite your lip, your need for perfection is both a blessing and a curse.

You abandon the remnants of your sandwich and head home thoughts churning.

In your kitchen, you create a focaccia, flaky salt, the good olive oil, rosemary and cherry tomatoes.

Once it’s cooked you realise you don’t have the right meats and you drag yourself to the store, you stand in front of the deli meats aisle for longer than you want to admit, until your fingers start to get a little numb and you take home a selection and painstakingly try a little of everything with the bread and nothings right, nothing works.

You hiss in frustration before cutting a large chunk and wrapping it in wax paper and grabbing your keys.

You know you must look like a crazy person, stomping into the butchers and dropping the bread on the counter in front of the mountain of a man who works there, bottom half of his face covered by a black mask.

“I need help” you say shortly “I’ve tried the supermarket meats and it’s not right.”

He stares at you, shocked, confused, you can’t tell.

“Look you’re an expert right?” A slow nod. “Good. I’m fed up of having no good cafes so I’m gonna do it myself but I’m a novice at savoury, so taste that.”

You wave a hand irritably at the wax-paper wrapped focaccia “and please tell me what meat is supposed to go in it.”

There’s a beat, two, before callused hands are unwrapping the bread and tearing a chunk off, corner of the mask lifting to accommodate before being lowered.

A moan. “I know” you say, slightly smug “so I’m not putting it with mediocre fillings”

The man hums, swallowing, before turning to a leg of something along the back counter and cutting a thin slice, dropping it onto a paper plate before handing it to you.

“Try that” he rasps, you take the plate and try the meat, it’s salty, slightly smoky and so much better than whatever you brought from the supermarket and combinations throw themselves into your head.

You’re unaware of the butcher staring at you.

“How much will I need to make at least….four sandwiches?” You half ask, half demand.

“Bout 15 slices” he replies after a moments thought.

“Great, that then please” you say sweetly, “and you can keep the rest of the bread.” you add on when you’ve paid and have the wrapped meat in your hand before almost running out of the shop to get home.

Simon stares for a long time, before devouring the rest of the bread.

[nonranghaes]

heads up! food mention at end :)

seungkwan's chin rests on your shoulder as he holds you from behind, listening as you vent your frustrations for a bit. his fingers are tangled with one another as he loosely links his arms around you, hands resting against your stomach. you're comfortable, though, even if his back is hurting just a little from this position, and he's more than willing to put up with a little discomfort while you air your woes right now.

"so... yeah," you finish off after a moment, hands resting atop his own. your fingers run along the back of his hands, smoothing the edges of his sweatshirt. "it's just a little frustrating, i guess. i don't mind listening to other people, but... it just sucks when people interrupt me when i'm trying to talk, y'know?" you seem to melt into him a little more, pressing yourself further against his chest. for a moment, you pause, glancing down at his sleeves. you bought him this, and he knows the gears are turning in your mind. "it's not like i talk a lot."

he hums in agreement, pressing a soft kiss against your neck before resting again. "that's why i make sure you get to talk," he mumbles.

you chuckle a little. "i know... but you don't have to snap at mingyu to be quiet."

"he likes it." he kisses your shoulder this time, and you can feel the curve of his smile against the fabric of your t-shirt. "he was too loud that time. you know that."

"i do. and i know i have friends who do let me talk when i feel like it..." you sigh. "it just sucks when i want to vent and can't." you turn your face so that you can press a kiss into his hair. "thank you, honey."

it's what i'm here for, he wants to say. but he doesn't. he just hugs you a little tighter for a moment, eternally considering himself lucky that he gets to listen to all of your thoughts--good or bad--when you feel like sharing them. he hums for a moment, as if he doesn't know one of the things that can make you happier. "i'm craving honey toast," he says. "do you want some?"

"yes, please," you sit forward so that he can get up...

only to get caught by his arms as he pulls you back in, stealing another quick kiss before he lets you go. "i love you," he says quietly. "thank you for trusting me with these things."

and he sees the way the light hits your eyes when you say you love him back, the way you genuinely seem to brighten up when you smile. you take his hand before he can leave you to make your snack, pressing a kiss against his knuckles. "thank you for being someone i can trust."

[honeyglee]

hmmmm I’m thinking about Steve Harrington who’s always been a service dom by default. Who just wants to please his partners in any way he can. And as he explores his sexuality more he realizes he quite likes being a service sub as well. He flourishes under his dom’s directions and is endlessly thrilled by the praise he receives when he does a good job. And he always does a good job. But he never quite relaxes enough to stop being the one serving.

Until Eddie.

Eddie Munson with his deep voice and warm laugh and kind dark eyes. Eddie who sees right through him and understands that what Steve really needs is to be given the full pillow princess treatment. Eddie who makes it his mission to get the boy to melt under him no matter how long it takes.

And it doesn’t take long in the end. Steve breaks after just one full afternoon of slow grinding, soft kisses, and strong hands with practiced ringed fingers handling his body with so much care he could cry. Eddie has him pinned to his soft mattress but he’s not rushing for climax, just taking his sweet time and worshiping his body, showering him with praise in that delicious voice that makes Steve’s head go fuzzy.

“Thats it sweetheart, just let me take care of you. My good boy.”

Steve crumbles all at once, his pretty brown eyes all glossy with tears that collect on his lashes and finally spill over. He’s stuffed so full of love that it bursts out from him in heaving sobs. Dizzy and shattered from the feeling of being so cherished. Cherished, for once not for what he can do, but just for being him.

He whimpers as he comes down in between kisses, and he sniffles as Eddie sits behind him in the bath and gently washes his hair. And when he’s all wrapped up in Eddies strong arms and soft words and sweet kisses, nestled under warm clean sheets, he finally lets out a long shaky sigh before falling into the most restful sleep he’s had in a very long time.

[giuliettagaltieri]

A River of Honey

Pairing: Husband!Gojō x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Navigating through life with your husband and son who both seemed to have developed an appetite for something only you can provide.

Warning: breastfeeding, mild lactation kink, innuendos

Word Count: 1142

With the two of you being forced into a marriage you did not want, it was difficult to coexist with each other, let alone initiate anything between you.  Your two-year marriage did end up with you having an 8-month old son as Gojō is only a man, ever so vulnerable to the natural charm of a woman.  But aside from sharing a child, you have nothing else that binds you to each other.

But lately, his crystalline blue eyes have been wandering to your ample bosom much too often.

Being in the Gojō estate house, you had to follow a few rules.

One is that you are never allowed to speak ill of your husband and your family.

You must not meet any man unaccompanied.

Entering the council hall is strictly forbidden.

Your hair must be in a specific bun, adorned with ornaments to symbolize status.

And lastly, you must follow the traditional dress code.

Most of the time, you wore kimonos, all having the colors of the Gojō banners.  It was their way of branding you as theirs.  And your husband did not like that.  But you, well it always reminded you of his eyes so you cannot bring yourself to complain.

During the course of your pregnancy, your husband protested about making you wear heavy fabric when it was too hot.  They did not relent.

So, your husband took it upon himself to rid your closet with the intricate kimonos and obi.  He threw them all in the cold of the night through your window, and shot a blast of cursed energy on the pile just for good measure.

From then on, your kimonos were lighter.  You did not have to wear multiple layers.  And even after you gave birth, the clan decided not to test their luck and just let you wear whatever is comfortable for you.  After all, you gifted the family a promising heir.  One that looked exactly like the master of the house, an exact replica of his father.

Gojō leaned on a tree in your garden one day, his legs stretched out in front of him.  He was watching you as you sat by the pond with your little boy on your lap, pointing at the koi fish that swam by.

“No.”  He hears you chuckle.  “We don’t eat them.”

As Gojō expected, a tiny frown forms on your son’s face the moment you said ‘no’, his lips wobbling and he turns to his father as if silently asking for rescue.

You sigh as you stand up.  “Wanna come to dada?”  Upon hearing this, your son hesitates and his tiny fists tighten on your sleeves.  But before he can protest, you drop his bum on Gojō’s lap.

“Hey there, bud.”  Gojō grins but the little boy doesn’t respond to him as his eyes remain trained on you as you sit next to your husband and pick up the book you brought with you earlier.

A poke to your son’s cheek finally made him look at his father, with a slightly irritated look in addition to his in-distressed expression.

“Mama’s not upset.”  Gojō says as he smoothens the hair of the child.  “She’s only teasing.”

Your son thinks for a moment and slumps on his father’s chest, his cheeks squished as he looks at your face.  Waiting for you to confirm it.  But you pretend not to hear as you turn the page on your book.  You’re not going to tolerate this attitude, you don’t need two spoiled Gojōs.

“Lighten up, Satoshi.  We’ll get you a non-koi fish to eat later.”  Gojō tried again, his grin widening every moment.

But Satoshi scowls at his father and shook his head. 

“Oh?  You don’t want to eat fish anymore?”

His son shook his head once more.

“What do you want to eat then?”  Gojō scratched his head.  “Want some taiyaki?”

Satoshi glares at his father.  “No!” 

Gojō’s eyebrows rise slowly.  “Come again?”

A red hue appears on Satoshi’s nose and judging by the large gulp of air he took, a wail is most certainly coming.

“MAMA!”  He bawls, his hands outstretched to you as large tears spill to his cheeks. 

Gojō grimaces, quickly handing you your son.  “Alright go to mama.”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh as you drop your book to the side to cradle your baby.  He buries his face to your chest, soaking your kimono.  You rub his back in a soothing manner.

“What a crybaby.”  Gojō laughs, making his son glare at him behind his tears.

“Don’t listen to dada.”  You smile while smooching Satoshi’s chubby cheek.  “Stop crying now, I’ll ask them to make you something good to eat, okay?”

Satoshi looks at you with apprehension. 

“What?”  You smile sweetly.

He looks away from you and his tiny baby hands play with your kimono making you laugh.

“You have to talk, Satoshi.”  You say even though you know what he’s doing.

“Milk mama.”  He mumbles while he fiddles with his fingers.

After looking around your garden and not seeing anyone, you shift your kimono to the side and unbutton your nursing bra showing your lush breast and still puffy nipple.  Satoshi latches instantly.  His eyes become droopy almost immediately, breastfeeding is becoming a swift sleep inducer to him.

You turn to your unusually quiet husband and see just in time how he stared at your bosom with his pupils dilating as he swallowed audibly.  Warmth ran through your body and you looked away quickly, pretending that you saw none of it.

“That’s really convenient huh.”  He spoke, his voice a few timbres deeper.  “You just unbutton and your teat is out.”

“Mhm.”  You hum as you play with a lint on your lap.

Gojō wets his lips and he tries to look away but his eyes often wander to you every now and then.  You see his leg bouncing slightly in a steady motion.  And his hand raked his hair way too much that it started sticking out to multiple angles.

“I should put Satoshi back in his room.”  You say softly after you unlatched your son and tidied your clothes.

Gojō is quick to stand and offer his hand to you.  “I’ll come too.”

You thanked him and walked side by side with him.  He doesn’t tolerate you walking behind him.  

You smiled at him gratefully as he opened the door to Satoshi’s room and placed the pillows around your son’s crib.  Gojō pretends to look interested in a furby, as your neckline dips while putting your son down.  His heart softened when you smoothed his hair as you whispered, “I love you”.

He guided you out of the room and you are about to head back to your garden when his arm finds your waist and you are being led to your bedroom instead.

“My turn now, mama.”

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[nottivagos]

syn: Mechanic!Danny gives you a lift home after seeing you drenched at the bus stop after work.

wc: 2.1k

an: MECHANIC DANNY FLUFF!! this scene has been stuck in my head for a while, im just glad i finally wrote it!

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

Everything just seemed to be not on your side today.

A busy day at the workshop brought struggles of its own for a start. Endless amounts of paperwork, filing and invoices had to be done, the droning rings and buzzes of the office telephone nearly every five minutes which was then followed by clients barking their demands for MOTs and services only for you to scribble down pathetically and messily, to the annoyed grunts and angry orders from Danny and the others made you want to melt into the floor and never emerge up ever again.

It didn’t help that you’d become so absorbed with work and getting everything done that you’d missed your typical bus that you’d usually get at the end of the day. At this point, you were at your breaking point. Whilst standing at the bus stop, your blurry, tearful vision showed that as you gulped your stressed sorrows away.

Minutes droned on as you waited impatiently for your bus to arrive. You were agitated and emotional, the mixture of pent-up stress from the long week made a nice cocktail bomb of emotions ready to burst at any moment.

Then the rain came. How great.

If you didn’t expect your day to get any worse, this was the final nail in the coffin. The small, unnoticeable pitter patters soon thundered down onto the glass shelter as you tried your best to take cover underneath it whilst trying to maintain warmth in your flimsy coat during the torrential downpour, which you silently begged to end as soon as possible.

Droplets relentlessly trickled off the edge of the bus stop, the water dripping down hitting your scalp and dampening your perfect hairstyle with no mercy whatsoever. So much for styling it this morning, huh?

At this point, you were hoping for a miracle. Now nearly completely drenched to the bone, and unable to catch a ride home due to the incompetent bus service that carried out through your little town, you silently prayed someone would drive past, feel some sort of pity for you, and offer you a life home.

However, that ‘saviour’ wasn’t someone who you’d suspect it to be. After all, not all heroes wear capes. Or in this instance, they wear dirty work polo shirts that don’t fit them as well as they used to.

After finally locking up his garage, ending his long day of mechanic hell, Daniel was driving home when he noticed a shivering figure waiting hopelessly in the bus shelter close to the garage. As he drove closer, his windscreen wipers violently swiped the water from his glass just so he could make out yourself shivering like a lost puppy in the rain due to the weather’s dramatic change in climate.

At first, he was hesitant to give you a lift home. Gritting his teeth slightly, his expression hardened. He’d already had enough of you and your shenanigans for one day whilst in work, but there was something inside of him nagging for him to show you a meagre inch of kindness in asking you if you needed a lift home.

Taking a short drag of his cigarette to try and compose himself, his other hand maintained control over the steering wheel. Whilst driving closer and closer to you, the cars he seemed to be in convoy with ultimately determined his decision in whether he should offer you a ride home or not.

Mercilessly, the cars that sped past you splashed through a large puddle that had formed next to the curb due to the rainfall. The impact of them driving through it caused a rather large gush of water to drown you even more than you already were.

Danny’s grip on the steering wheel slightly tightened as he pressed down on the accelerator pedal a little too much just to express his irritation at the prickish drivers before him. He then quickly regained some composure, before abruptly swerving into the bus lane. The sight of the random car speeding into the bus lane made you jump slightly.

A rolled down window followed, before you were met with your seething boss with a cigarette wedged in between his teeth looking at you with a knowing look. “Well, are you gettin’ in or what?” His voice was rude and blunt, despite it holding some genuine care in it, his eyebrow raising as you made eye contact with him.

“Come on sugar, I ain’t got all day!” Danny exclaimed as you replied with a swift nod, scrambling from the rainy outside to the warmth of his car, as you pulled the door open and plopped into the dirty passenger side with a relieved sigh.

The interior of Danny’s car was well… messy. Hell, ‘messy’ was an understatement. Oil and grime were smeared on the glove boxes and armrests, littered receipts and other sorts of work manuals scattered the vehicle’s floor, the stagnant stench of past smoked cigarettes seeped into the seats and dust collected over the years made you choke slightly as he pulled the car off from the curb.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Danny grumbled dryly, noticing a small grimace that had formed on your face. “I’m planning on cleanin’ it this weekend,” he obviously lied through his teeth, whilst eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s fine, honestly,” you reassured him with an awkward smile, posture tensing as you sat on the worn and aged passenger seat.

For the first few minutes, the journey was awkward to say the least. Surprisingly enough, Danny had some courtesy despite his lack of it in the garage. He’d turned down his loud rock music when you’d entered the car, so you were left with a palpable silence you could’ve been able to cut through with a knife.

You shifted a couple of times in your seat uncomfortably as Danny took small yet long drags from his cigarette. The pull out cup holder had become a makeshift ashtray over the years, you inferred. Danny’s ex wife has always hated his smoking, (which Danny was very vocal about whenever you yourself complained or expressed your concerns) and just ‘mess’ in general, but it seemed ever since she’d left that he’d accumulated enough mess in his car that only five (or maybe even more) ‘deep cleans’ would fix.

“So,” Danny broke the silence as he began gruffly, “Where are you heading?”

“Home,” you quickly replied, “I missed my bus and it started to rain.”

“I figured,” he grumbled in response, obviously unamused by you stating the obvious. “Where do you live?” he asked, his voice a little softer than usual, taking a brief glance at you. “I can drop you off. Only if you’d like. It’s no problem.”

A small blush burnt your cheeks at the gesture. “It’s not that far from here,” you began with a soft smile, matching his short-lived glance. “Just up these two streets and then you take a left,” you guided with a hand gesture which Danny followed with a little huff and a small smile himself.

“Didn’t expect you to be a local girl,” he commented lowly underneath his breath, nodding in acknowledgement.

Another awkward silence followed, the hums and roars of Danny’s car engine and the whirring of the heaters blasting hot air onto you both acted like white noise for those uneventful moments.

“Thank you, by the way,” your mumble broke the silence, the apple of your cheeks still a subtle pink colour. “If it wasn’t for you I probably would’ve been waiting for ages,” you added with a small chuckle, trying to downplay your predicament.

“It’s not a problem, really,” he chuckled with a nonchalant shrug. “Always happy to help if you need it, pet.”

There it was again. The nickname. You’d never fully understood the origins of why Daniel called it you so often, other for reasons of harmless endearment purposes or for slight degradation due to the fact that you were the only woman who worked in the garage, but God did it make your insides flip and become fuzzy.

“Are you pretty local then too?” You asked as he continued to navigate through the worsening conditions of the roads and weather.

A short scoff followed. “Born and bred, princess,” he muttered before he pressed the dying butt of his cigarette against the plastic tray. “I never left, actually,” he added as you followed his moments, “never saw any reason to.” He joked half-heartedly, as you noticed his pudgy belly confined by his seatbelt.

As well as this, you couldn’t help but notice his burly, large tattooed arms that revealed themselves as his work polo rode up his bicep. The most noticeable to you was his left side, which showed his rose tattoo on his left hand, and the cupid on his forearm hidden by some unruly hairs now, but you couldn’t help but notice a woman’s name hidden underneath the fabric riding up his bicep whenever his muscles flexed slightly whilst gripping the wheel.

You knew you shouldn’t ask. It seemed wrong to ask. But as stupidly curious as you were, you did anyways.

“Who’s that woman written on the bottom of your bicep?” The question itself was innocent enough, however the response that followed from Danny surely wasn’t.

As soon as you watched Daniel’s jaw lock into place, (undoubtedly from the annoyance and irritation that having this woman’s name tatted on his arm brang), the tense muscles that followed as he got the steering wheel into a death grip, his knuckles going white from the intensity of his clasp on it, you knew you’d messed up.

Frowning upon his reaction, your eyebrows furrowed in sympathy, as you felt terrible for asking. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t.”

Your lips pursed shut as you stayed silent. Gulping nervously, you kept your eyes glued on the road ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with Danny. In that moment a pit of dread formed in your stomach, you thought for sure that he was about to slam the brakes and make you walk home in the rain, but instead, he stayed dangerously silent.

Danny, however, after a few moments, sighed. He couldn't stay mad at you for your curiosity, and it wasn't like you wouldn't find out one way or another.

“It's my ex missus,” Danny replied reluctantly, brushing a large hand through his messy mullet. “I got it in our early days,” he added, his hand coming down to scratch his beard before glancing at you again, “drunken mistake, actually.”

Oh. So that was the ex wife.

“I'm so sorry, Daniel,” you apologised softly, looking up at him. “I-I- didn't know,” you continued, your voice remorseful and shaky as you whispered.

Daniel sighed again at the sight of you. Something about your expression just made his hard exterior melt away, his eyes widen slightly as his gaze softened. It was different than when he was with his ex. He felt purer, with less of a need to be angry or rude. He felt at ease.

“Hey,” his voice was a gentle whisper, glancing over at you for a moment before he placed a reassuring hand on your thigh. “It's alright, darlin’, you didn't know,” he added, his thumb rubbing soothingly across your clothed thigh.

“Yeah– But–”

“But nothing,” he said with a smile, a genuine reassuring one as he squeezed your thigh, whilst he turned into your street. “You didn't know, and that's alright.”

In that moment, you felt your cheeks burn again, your ears pricked hot as your insides flurried happily. “This one's mine,” you pointed out your house with a small smile to Danny as he pulled up on the side of the curb.

“Thank you for the lift,” you broke the silence as you faced him after unbuckling your seat belt. “I really appreciate it,” you added with a soft smile.

Danny chuckled, the creases on his face more distinct as he smiled back at you. “It was my pleasure, princess,” he said as he withdrew his hand from your thigh. “Anytime you need a lift, call me,” he added with a slightly cheesy wink, which made you giggle in response.

In a flash, you pressed your lips against Danny's, feeling him tense at the abrupt action before coming to cup your cheeks when he eventually melted into the gesture. You pulled away with a sweet smile on your lips, watching Danny pant softly from the passion in the gesture.

“Goodnight, Danny,” you whispered gently as you moved away from him in the driver's seat and out of the car. “See you on Monday,” you added with a bat of your eyelashes, “and drive safely home, please.”

“A-always,” Danny responded, dumbfounded as his wide eyes watched you walk into your house after giving him a wave goodbye. He ran his thumb over his lips, still completely flustered by the fact that you'd kissed him as he sat in silence for a few moments outside your house, trying to recollect his thoughts. <3

like mechanic!danny? fancy sending me an ask in my ask box so you can be added to my notebook! - notti <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Words Like Honey 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Ransom Drysdale (Professor AU)

Summary: it's hard making friends at college, but you might just be looking in the wrong places.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You reach for the last coconut bar in the basket. As you take it, another hand stops short and you turn to the man you didn’t notice right beside you. You have a bad habit of zoning out in crowded places. Your sister calls it tunnel vision. Often times, you would just sit and stare at family gatherings with all the people and sound. 

“Oh, oops, sorry,” you hold out the bar, “did you want this one?” 

The man glances at you, a tick in his cheek, “aw, sweetheart, don’t you worry about that. I’m just fine with a brownie.” He reaches to take a brownie from the basket instead, “nice of ya to offer, though.” 

“It’s not problem,” you say, “I don’t mind trading.” 

“No, no, now what kinda gentleman would take from a pretty gal like yourself? You go on and enjoy that,” he smiles. “Don’t meet many polite ladies ‘round here, now.” 

“Oh,” your cheeks heat up, “thank you, sir.” 

“And I’m sure you don’t need old men sayin’ so,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll be on my way then.” 

You smile as he moves to get around you. The space is tighter than you expect and his belly presses slightly against you as he sidles past. He gives and apologetic nod, “sorry, sweetheart.” 

“No worries,” you assure him and slip past, turning to peruse the packets of flavoured hot chocolate by the hot water karafe. 

You choose the smores flavour and tear it open. You fix up your cocoa and pop a lid on top. You take your sweets to the cashier and swipe your student card. It isn’t the best use of your meal plan but that sweet tooth kills you.  

You have about an hour before your next class. You come out into the cafeteria area and glance around. There’s not much room in the midday rush. The first week is always the busiest. 

You could sneak your hot chocolate into the library but you’re not sure it would be any less crowded. You see the same man at a table. He shimmies on his seat as he puts his briefcase next to him. He’s older and judging by his checkered button-up, a professor.  

You measure your options. Second year and you still haven’t found any friend. Your grandma says to put yourself out there but Cameron in your baking class said your souffle looked flat and laughed with Dustin and Penny.  

All you want is a place to sit. 

You approach the man, your stomach fluttering. You really hope you’re not bothering him. You keep your hot chocolate close to your chest. 

“Ahem, erm, excuse me, sir,” you say. He looks up as he presses his thumb down to unlock his phone. He lays it on the table and retracts his hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a pest, again, but...” you look around, “do you mind if I steal this seat? I promise I’ll be quiet.” 

“Go on,” he gestures to the chair. “I’ll only ask ya one thing.” 

“Oh, sure,” you look at him like a frightened fawn. 

“Your name? Must be as pretty as you.” 

You could melt. The way his accent turns his voice to syrup and his words make it even sweeter. You grin. 

“Saffron, sir,” you set down your cup and square. You extend your hand in an overly formal gesture. “And you?” 

“You can call me Lee, sweet cake.” He shakes your hand. His grip is firm and tight. He reminds you of your neighbour who used to mow the lawn for your grandma. Always helpful. 

“Lee,” you sit and blow over the slot of the lid. “You must teach. Oh, sorry, I said I’d be quiet.” 

“Nah, it’s alright,” he waves away your apology. “Is it that obvious then? You count the grays?” 

He touches his temples and you giggle nervously. “No, no, I didn’t mean that. I only... well, you could be a student. Gerry in my pastry class, he’s got grandkids.” 

“I ain’t got none of those now,” he snorts and points at you tersely. 

“I--” You pull back and touch your cheeks, “oh boy, I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.” 

He laughs, “I know. I’m yankin’ ya chain. So, I s’pose you’re a student then? Culinary? You mentioned pastries?” 

“Oh, yes.” You nod and cross your arms over the table. “I always cooked with my grandma and I figured, if you’re good at something, you should keep doing it.” 

“That does sound like a good plan,” he says.  

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod. 

Awkwardness sets in and you try to figure out what to do with yourself. You scratch your shoulder then reach for your hot chocolate. You take another drink and set it down. You take the coconut square and put it in your bag. 

You take out your laptop, hoping to busy yourself as the tension builds. You should have just gone and sat in the quad. Too late now. 

You open up the lid and type in your password. Of course, it needs to update. As you wait for the rolling circle to finish, your vision blurs. All this activity makes you want to disappear. 

Your eyes come back into focus as your computer chirps. You blink and notice movement on the other side. You glance at Lee as he pulls his phone close and squints at the screen. There’s something odd about the intensity of his gaze. You swear, he’d just had it right across from you. 

Well, you weren’t paying attention. There you go again, blocking out the world. If you stopped that, you might actually make friends! You frown and cup your chin in your hand. 

“’samatter?” He asks, once more jarring you from your self-imposed isolation. 

You shake your head and sit up, “nothing. Just... thinking.” 

“Hm, well whatever ya thinking of, it can’t be so bad. Not enough to make a sweet thing like you so sad,” he says. 

“Really, it’s not. You know, college can be stressful,” you force a smile. 

“It can be. Piece of advice,” he leans forward, “get out while you can. Don’t stick around like me.” 

“Oh, well, thanks,” you reply. “I think I’ll end up in a kitchen somewhere. Hopefully.” 

“Kitchen’s a nice place to be,” he winks. “Make all sorts of tasty dishes. Make people happy. Not many people happy about a term paper, ya know?” 

[kigieri]

Meeting The Parents

The Danny Ric Series🍯🦡

Daniel Ricciardo × Reader

Meeting Daniel's parents feels daunting, but he supports and reassures you. He fell in love with you after all, so his parents are going to love you as well.

A/N: Welcome! I hope you enjoy The Danny Ric Series. It is dedicated to the wonderful man that brought so much joy to Formula One and its fans. I sadly did not feel inspired to write the actual meeting, but I hope you will enjoy this little fic anyways.

This story on AO3.

It was daunting, the mere idea of meeting his parents. They had been together for almost a year, but in between the F1 season and her own job she had not yet made it to Perth and the home where he grew up. This, however, was about to change.

Standing in front of the mirror she tucked at her dress. It was one of her favourites, just long enough that she was perfectly comfortable and a fabric that made her feel good. She let her hands glide over it, trying to calm herself.

It was not the first time she would speak to Daniel's parents. She had participated in a few phone calls. Even the odd facetimes here and there, but she held herself in the background, not wanting to intrude on their time.

Even though, with the Ricciardo family, that was easier said than done. Daniel had been so proud to introduce them and his mother always asked for her to just shortly pop in front of the camera and to say 'hello'. They were always greeting her with enthusiasm and a joy that was contagious.

Now she stood in front of the mirror in their hotel room. They had, at her insistence, booked a hotel for the night. Daniel had told her time and time again that that was not necessary, but she was refused to meet his parents at 2 AM after flying for over ten hours.

That argument had also, ultimately, convinced Daniel. He did not want his parents to drive multiple hours to come pick them up, which they insisted on, and neither did he want to drive that long in the night himself.

In the end, they had settled on taking a room at one of the fancier hotels at the airport. They had checked in right after getting their bags and collapsed on the bed. Now, a good night of sleep richer, they had only a bit of time left until they needed to check out. Daniel's parents were going to pick them up and drive them to their home.

She walked over to the vanity, picking up her earrings and putting them in. Daniel had sat down on the bed after getting ready. He was marginally less concerned, since he was not about to meet anyone new, but her worry worried him in return.

"You look great. Stop worrying. They already love you, your outfit is not going to change that, and neither is your self-doubt. I know it's stressful, but it is really not necessary." He smiled at her, but she just looked at him with slight concern on her face, clearly now thinking about all the possible ways she could unintentionally mess up.

Daniel stood up and walked over, taking her hands in his and kissing them. "You look absolutely stunning, as you always do. But they're going to love you either way, because even if you turn up in a jumper and jeans, they're going to be convinced by your personality. Which is what I fell in love with." She looked at their hands, squeezing his slightly. "I know their approval means a lot to you, so I simply want to be perfect."

He shook his head. "No, don't even start that. You are perfect just the way you are. I simply want you to be who you are. The lovely, caring, empathetic woman I fell in love with." He lifted her head by the chin to kiss her. "Okay?" He asked and she nodded in return.

They gathered their last remaining belongings and after looking around the room one last time to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything, it was not as if they'd unpacked much, they left.

While waiting for the elevator, she stepped from one foot to the other. Daniel regarded her from the side. He understood her nervousness, his parents were very important to him, but so was she. They already loved her anyway. He could not stop gushing about her and the few interactions they had had were enough for his mother to make jokes about grandchildren and for his dad to talk about wedding bells.

This was not even taking into account his sister and nephew that had already met her at this year's Australian Grand Prix. They had absolutely loved her and she was so wonderful with children, he knew his sister was just waiting for the next time she'd get him alone to start making innuendos.

The elevator arrived and they both stepped in, their luggage was going to be brought down for them, they did not need to worry about it. She pushed the button for the lobby and, while watching the doors slide shut, she reached for his hand. "I love you, and they're going to too. You're amazing." He smiled at her. She didn't look back at him, her gaze focussed on the elevator doors. "I know. I know, okay... They're super friendly. I love your mom, your dad is cool, but I'm still nervous okay?" She looked at him and he was hit by a wave of adoration for her, that he might never get used to. He squeezed her hand. "Yes, okay."

As it is announced that they had reached the lobby, the doors open and Daniel could already spot his parents. Meeting them might be a bit nerve wrecking but, as he had said, there was nothing to be afraid of. He adored her and so would his parents.

@kigieri 2024. All rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate or repost any of my work.

[satsugo]

୨୧ grumpy bf!bakugo grumbles and sulks while you walk to far ahead. then grabs your sleeve like he didn't just call you annoying. enjoy love bug! mlist.

bakugo katsuki x reader

The sidewalk was cracked in places — just like Bakugo’s mood.

You were a few paces ahead of him, walking fast, arms swinging, a skip in your step like the late afternoon sun had personally charged your battery.

Bakugo lagged behind with his hands in his pockets, jaw tight, hood up, scowl deeper than usual.

“Why the hell are you speed-walking?” he grumbled. “This ain’t a damn race.”

You didn’t slow down. “Maybe if you kept up for once, old man!”

He huffed. Loudly. Dramatically. Then stopped walking altogether.

You noticed a beat later, turning around mid-step. “What now?”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first. Just stood there, eyes half-lidded, lips pressed into a flat line.

“You’re annoying,” he muttered.

You blinked, confused. “Okay? And?”

He stalked forward — slow, steady, all heat and quiet frustration. You thought maybe he was about to scold you again.

Instead, he grabbed your sleeve.

Not your hand. Your sleeve.

A soft tug. Subtle. Like he didn’t want to admit he was the one who moved closer.

Your breath caught, but you didn’t say anything.

So he did.

“Stay close, dumbass.”

You didn’t reply — just bit your lip and looked away, smiling like an idiot.

And if his hand stayed there — fingers curled around the cuff of your hoodie the whole walk home — neither of you brought it up.

Not even once.

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Abandoned nests didn’t happen nearly as much nowadays, what with the new preservation regulations, so naturally June had sat in front of the incubator all night. She wasn’t even aware it was no longer night until Seth arrived.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Have you slept at all?”

“I don’t want it to hatch all alone!” June protested, rubbing her eyes. She ducked her head to peek through the glass door of the incubator. The glittering purple egg sat unmoving under the dim light. “Not that anything happened,” she yawned. “I bet it was waiting for you.”

Seth made an amused, but deeply sceptical noise in reply. “Have you eaten at all?” he pivoted back to her generally inadvisable life choices.

“You found it,” June evaded with an accusatory wag of her finger. “You wait and see, it waited to hatch until you were here.”

“That isn’t a thing,” he argued, making his way to the little kitchenette.

“You see if it isn’t a thing!” June looked at the egg again. It didn’t have any identifiable markers on it so there was no telling what might hatch out of it. But it must be a sizeable dragon. The egg was as big as a fresh coconut.

Seth sat down beside her and silently held a bowl out to her, with his eyes raised meaningfully in response to her half-uttered protest. June looked down at the bowl. Apple slices in honey.

“Oh!” she took the bowl rather awkwardly, looking away from Seth’s smug expression. “Thank you! Sorry for forgetting. Sweet new year.”

He smiled, clinking his own bowl against hers before also peering through the little window. “So when will it hatch?”

“If I knew that I wouldn’t have had to—”

CRACK

Seth started back with eyes wide as saucers.

“Didn’t I effing tell you!” June cried in a half-whisper, bouncing out of her seat with excitement. She carefully opened the door to the incubator, heart pounding. There was a bright, shiny bit of horn poking through the purple shell.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Seth choked beside her.

“There they are!”

A tiny muzzle poked impatiently through the cracking eggshell, gleaming little claws soon to follow.

“Oh it’s a silverscale…” June breathed. “Oh my… Seth, look.”

Very slowly she slid out the tray, just in time for the baby dragon to emerge fully from its egg, kicking triumphantly at its remnants with its back paws. The scales on its underside were a very dark blue, but its horns and claws and all the glittering scales along the top of its head and its back were a beautiful silver. The little dragon sat up, looking left and right with a remarkably round snoot and fixed its shining pale eyes on Seth.

For a moment all three of them seemed to hold their breath and then the hatchling leapt straight onto Seth’s shoulder. He nearly reeled backwards and June propped him up, barely containing her excitement. The little dragon gave an authoritative squawk and bonked it’s little horned head against Seth’s yaw.

“Ow,” he protested, temporarily shaken out of his bewilderment. The dragon squawked again.

“What did I tell you,” June said, half smug, half jealous, and one hundred percent delighted. “Bonded to you from the start.”

Seth didn’t answer. He sat very still for a moment and then, very slowly, lifted the bowl of sliced apple up to his shoulder. The little dragon peered down at it, wobbled, and then stuck its head fully into the bowl to begin scarfing down apple.

“Oh…” June laughed, grinning at Seth’s helpless expression. “You are going to be absolutely besotted with this one.”

[daydreamsandcaffeine]

pocketful of sunshine

hi, hello, it's me, drabbling again (and in a new fandom at that) after years of not doing so, but inspiration struck and would not leave me alone.

inspired by @violencelittlething's modern AU universe and very much inspired by this tiktok, I present a fluffy little Imrrick family mother's day drabble.

💕💕💕💕

To the untrained ear, the house is seemingly quiet as he closes the garage door behind him, but he hears the soft giggles and subtle kicking of feet on the staircase. He rounds the corner while keeping both hands behind his back, finding his toddler, sat on the stairs, bursting with infectious energy.

“Did you get the flowers, daddy?” She asks in a whisper, tone full of anticipation.

“I sure did, Bun.” Garrick chuckles at her excitement while bringing his left arm forward to show her a large bouquet of pink roses. 

Little Quinn lets out a tiny gasp and claps her tiny hands with glee, golden curls bouncing with the gesture. “They’re so beautiful! She’s going to love them! Can we go up and give them to her now with the other presents?”

“We sure can, but before we do that, I have another surprise. This one’s just for you.” As he finishes his sentence, he extends his right arm out towards her with a tiny bouquet of pink and orange wildflowers.

The little girl’s pale green eyes widen at the arrangement, and a squeal of delight passes through her lips. “Really?? For me?? It’s so pretty! I love them!” She curls her fingers around the bouquet to take them from her father and immediately dashes to the giant mirror by the stairs to admire her gift. “Daddy, look! I can be just like mommy today.”

Garrick looks on and can’t help but grin widely at his three-year-old and her adorable antics. “You look just like she did at that age, bug.”

“Really?!”

“You sure do.” He’s about to take a picture of the scene in front of him, when his ears pick up on feet quietly padding down the stairs.

“What’s going on down here?” An amused tone is evident in her question.

Delightful squeals turn into a panicked gasp. “Mommy, you’re supposed to be upstairs, so we can give you the presents!”

Imogen strides towards the mirror and crouches down in front of her daughter, a soft smile on her face. “Well, Bun, I heard your squeals and had to come see for myself what you and your dad were up to.” She replies, tucking a golden curl behind Quinn’s ear.

Forgetting that she was upset that the surprise for her mom wasn’t going as planned, Quinn giggles. “Look what daddy got me! We have matching presents!” She proudly shows her mom the bouquet of wildflowers while Garrick simultaneously presents the large bouquet of pink roses into her viewpoint.

“They’re very pretty, Bun.” Imogen’s smile grows at her daughter’s pride and enthusiasm. She shakes her head as she takes the pink roses in hand. “You two spoil me too much.”

Garrick sits down to join his girls and leans over to kiss Imogen’s forehead. “Because you deserve it, and we love you.”

Quinn wriggles closer to her mom. Not to be outdone by her dad, she plants a big kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Yeah, you deserve it cause you’re the best, mommy!” Quinn’s face brightens even more when she says, “And now I can be like you today with my own flowers!”

Too choked up to speak by the pure admiration and sentiment behind her daughter’s words, Imogen wraps an arm around Quinn and squeezes her mini-me oh so tight. “I love you, Bun.”

And in that moment as mother and daughter are wrapped up in each other while still holding onto their flowers, Garrick snaps a picture of his girls - his world.

[softh0neycomb]

It’s okay dove, I did you a favour.

CW: Kidnapper!Simon, bondage, intox, f!reader, fingering, implied piv

You wake up in inches, still half asleep when you realise, these are not your sheets, this is not your bed. It’s only then you realise your wrists are tied above you, bound in a black rope that’s taut to the headboard.

You do what anyone would, struggle but the shifting highlights another issue…there’s rope wrapped around your chest, framing your tits, sliding over your wide open thighs. Immobile. Trapped.

“You’re awake” a gruff voice says from somewhere, “how’s your head pet?”

You try and respond, demand whoever this is lets you go, fury sliding through your veins but all that leaves your mouth is a jumbled mess and a whine.

The man laughs, “easy now, you were drinking like it was the end of the world last night.”

You moan, fragments returning, a house party, cheap vodka…a callused hand stroking your face, your eyes snap open.

The man in front, well, over you is big, corded muscle that speaks to destruction, mask covering the lower half of his face.

“It’s alright” he soothes, rubbing his thumb over a cheek “been watching you for a while dove, you and your pathetic boyfriend.”

You suck in a breath “he doesn’t treat you like you need hey?” His thumb continuing its gentle stroke of your cheek, you can’t help but lean into it.

“I watched you, get absolutely shitfaced, drag him into the bathroom” he chuckles lowly, “barely had time to pull the shower curtain across before you were in there.”

Your face heats, his thumb starts stroking your bottom lip.

“You were so dirty, in that tiny skirt, begging him to fuck you over the sink.”

You make an indignant noise and he shushes you placatingly.

“But he wouldn’t, would he? Not even when you slipped your flimsy excuse for knickers off.”

You try and turn your head, his grip turns mean “ah, ah, eyes on me love.”

“It was easy after that, following you, watching you get even more plastered, especially when you started to grind against me in that short little skirt, no knickers on”

You stare up at him, wide eyed as he traces a hand down your neck and over your chest before pinching one of your nipples hard and making you gasp.

“Thought I was your useless boyfriend didn’t you?”he coos condesendingly as he continues hand sliding over your hip and between your spread thighs. “Didn’t even notice I’d slipped something in your drink…silly dove.”

His fingers find your clit and tap gently; you buck at the sensation “there she is” he grins, at least, you think he does from under the mask.

“So I brought you back here, made sure you wouldn’t hurt yourself” a finger circling your hole, barely slipping inside, making you whine impatiently.

“Needy” he huffs at you, indulgent.

“See I did you a favour dove, taking you from that pathetic excuse of a man. He don’t treat you like you need…like the little whore you are.” Two fingers suddenly buried inside you, stretch almost burning.

“No” he coos as he fucks his fingers in and out of you, revelling in the wet sounds coming from your pussy and the broken gasps escaping your mouth.

“Doesn’t give this little cunt what it needs.”

It’s overwhelming, it’s simultaneously too much and not enough, eyes going glassy as the heel of his palm rubs against your clit.

“Don’t worry dove, I’ll take such good care of you” he grunts, speeding up, chuckling when you babble at him.

“I’ll treat you how you need, keep you nice and docile on my special drugs, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

A soundless nod, orgasm so close.

“Course you would” he chuckles “perfect. Little. Dove.”

You come, squeezing around his fingers so tightly he swears under his breath, fucking you through the aftershocks languidly before he shoves his fingers in your mouth.

“Suck.” He demands and you lave your tongue over the digits in your mouth “thas a good girl.”

Your eyelids start to droop and he chuckles “that’s it dove, back to dreamland” he hoovers over you, cock pressing at your entrance.

“I’ll just take what I need. You don’t worry about it.”

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Smutty thought that we need to be a reality 🥵:

Rough, intimate and slow missionary where Bucky has every inch of his body pressed to hers and her hands pinned on either side.

Like he can't get enough of the skin-on-skin contact and his lips can't seem to settle on a place to kiss so her entire neck and chest is marked up.

The craving! The NEED!

Ya' know? 🫠🥵

Oh, yes!

The unexpected thing for you was mostly that this was your and Bucky’s first time together, too. The tension had been unbearable for months. You’d had his lips so close, so often, you had convinced yourself you already knew what they felt like. The way everything else blurred when you and him would lock eyes. The way the barest of his touches would make your spine lock up, then melt… You were absolutely certain that your first collision would be fatal and cruel and messy and passionate-

And it had been. The kiss was devastating and your body was keeping up with him while your heart stumbled and stuttered. Finally. Oh God, finally. It seemed Bucky’s relieved groan was echoing your sentiments exactly. His hands were so large on you, like their warmth stretched beyond his skin. He enveloped you with so much more than just his body and your core had burned with need.

You barely noticed the needy whines that glided from your lips onto his. He just chuckled gently and shushed you sweetly. Patience, he seemed to say. You just wanted his hands everywhere, wanted his mouth to wander further.

Down, preferably.

However, Bucky had other plans. You had been so ready for him to rip your clothes off and then proceed to rip you to shreds. The gentleness and passion he displayed was disorienting. Like any movement would give you too much space to get away from him and he simply couldn’t risk it. Not now that he finally had you. Not ever again.

So when your bodies had finally reached the bed, your ankles locked around his hips and pulled him up against you to show him exactly how badly you weren’t planning on letting this go unfinished. Letting him go unfinished.

You barely needed foreplay. As much as Bucky would have absolutely fucking loved to play around with you, warm you up - he quickly found out you didn’t need much more warming up after all of those months of build-up. In fact, one more desperate sound out of you and he wouldn’t have stood a chance. “Next time,” he promised. “I’ll take my sweet time with you next time.”

You had made a non-committing noise and dismissed the promise because you just needed him, but he paused and looked down at you.

“I mean it, sweetheart,” he swore. “No needy sound is going to keep me from turning you inside out.” He followed that promise with a playful swipe of his fingers through your soaking core. “But now, I just want to feel you everywhere. I’ll have you on just my tongue another time,” he says with a smirk and pulls his fingers to his mouth, having a luxurious taste before pressing a long kiss to your mouth.

And before you could call his bluff, he nudged the head of his cock against your entrance and the words died on your tongue.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

His forehead had dropped to yours, jaw clenched unbearably tight. “Gimme a minute, baby.”

Those fucking pet names-

“Come on, Buck,” you tried again. “Please. I need you inside of me. I want to feel you. Please.” Every word had sounded softer as they faded into pleasure. And as your words disappeared, Bucky pushed in. And in. And in.

Both your mouths had dropped open and no sound had come out. Even your breaths had stalled, chests pushed together. It took everything in Bucky not to close his eyes. But the flush in your cheeks and the sight of your puffy lips parted in pleasure kept him locked in and alert.

His arms locked around your head as he pressed soft kisses to random areas of your beautiful face, his breath hitching as you fluttered around his cock violently to adjust to him. He hoped you did that every time. He hoped your cunt was this welcoming to him every time he fucked into you. This warm, this wet, this sweet, this heavenly. He’d make sure of it.

The weight of him between your hips was enough to nearly make you come. His firm thighs pressed to the back of yours, his arms around your head, his gleaming skin wrapping you in his scent, the pudgy and firm muscles of his chest and abdomen pressed against your soft flesh, the image of his flexing glutes as he rolls his cock into your deepest wall- Ah yes. All of that.

Bucky loved a lot of things, but he barely loves anything more than having you the way he had you that first time.

When he finally, finally had you.

[byexbyez]

i know he’s being cute or whatever but his ass can NOT brush my curly hair dry nuh uh