#i'm reading jaws so mood

[gigicaldwell]

JAWS 1975, dir. Steven Spielberg

[agxxb]

Prettier Than a Star (pt2) .𖥔 ݁ ˖

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: after you and rafe hooked up, he couldn’t stop thinking about you… good thing you couldn’t get him out of your mind either.

warnings: smut. fluff. rafe is a sweetheart & lowkey whipped for reader. possessive!rafe. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), vaginal fingering. use of pet names (baby, babe, sweetheart). praise. best friend’s brother. one mention of y/n. [3k]

read part one here!

Rafe had spent the past few days thinking about you. He couldn’t get you out of his head, couldn’t stop thinking about the way you looked, the way you felt, the way you sounded. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, every time he touched his skin, he felt your hands.

But it wasn’t just lust. He tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself that it was just a fling, that it was nothing more than physical, but there was something about you that he just couldn’t get out of his head, that he couldn’t shake off.

He had tried to stay away, to put some distance between you, but he couldn’t get you out of his mind. You were like a drug: addictive, intoxicating, all-consuming �� and he needed another hit. He tried to distract himself, tried to keep himself busy, but it was no use. You were under his skin, invading his thoughts, making him feel things he didn't even know he could feel. He had never felt this way about anyone before, a need so intense it was like you were a narcotic.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Sarah asked her brother as she entered the kitchen, heading towards the fridge to grab a cold bottle of water.

Her voice startled Rafe, the boy looking up from his laptop with wide eyes. He relaxed after seeing who it was, scowling and moving his attention back to the bright screen in front of him.

“Nothin’,” he muttered gruffly, but the tension in his body betrayed him, his jaw tight.

He didn't want to talk, didn't want to explain why he was in such a bad mood, because she still didn’t know about what had happened between the both of you. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear indifferent, but he couldn't hide his irritability.

Sarah knew not to push Rafe’s buttons, knowing she could be on the receiving end if he snapped, but she also knew him well enough to know that ‘nothing’ was almost always something. She simply hummed in response, taking a sip of her water and looking at him over the bottle.

Rafe shot his sister a glare, his irritation growing. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."

Before Sarah could reply, his phone buzzed. Glancing down at the device, his finger hovered over the new message.

𝙉𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝘽𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙚𝙣?

Rafe’s eyes widened once again, though this time it was in surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear from you, let alone receive a message asking to meet up. He clicked on the notification, thumbs tapping away at the screen as he quickly wrote out a reply and sent it.

Shutting his laptop – and not bothering to turn it off – he stood from his place at the kitchen island and put his phone in the front pocket of his jeans.

Rafe's reaction to the text message did not go unnoticed by Sarah, she couldn't help but feel intrigued, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. "Who was that?"

“None of your business,” he said, tone somewhat harsh. However, he knew that was a lie. With you being her best friend, Sarah had every right to know… but he couldn’t tell her.

Your hands shook as you typed out the message. You hadn’t stopped thinking about Rafe since his party: the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he sounded… You knew you shouldn’t be feeling the way you did, but you couldn’t help it — and that only added to the guilt you felt.

Your heart raced as you awaited his response. You couldn't shake the feeling that clawed at hour stomach, couldn't ignore the little voice in your head telling you that what you was doing was wrong. The guilt you felt when you thought about Sarah, his sister, your best friend, only made everything worse. You knew that you were crossing a line that you shouldn’t, that you were betraying her, but you couldn’t help it.

You felt something for him, and you needed to know if it was reciprocated.

A few moments went by without any word from him, and you began to regret sending the message. Just as you went to delete it, your phone dinged — a new message. You picked it up, seeing Rafe’s name on your screen with his response below it.

𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣.

When you read his reply, a flutter of excitement washed over you, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. You put your phone down and took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You knew you should be feeling penitent, but all you could feel was excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.

Ten minutes felt like ten hours as you waited anxiously, tapping your fingers against your thigh out of habit. You didn’t know what to expect, what to say, how to act, but you knew that you needed to see him, needed to talk to him.

About fifteen minutes went by before you heard a knock at your door, your heart leaping into your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and stood up slowly. Every step you took towards the door felt like an eternity, your legs feeling weak, your knees like jelly. You reached for the handle, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

You could feel the tension in the air, the electricity between you. For a moment, neither of you said anything, you just stood there, looking at each other. Finally, he spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Hey.” His voice was low and rough, though simultaneously soft and affectionate.

"Hi," you replied, doing your best to keep your voice steady. "Come in."

Rafe gave you a small smile as he stepped through the doorway, his body moving with confident grace. You closed the door behind him, feeling his presence fill the small space, consuming you completely.

He stood there with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders relaxed, expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, just watched you with an intensity that made your heart race.

You lead him up to your bedroom, not wanting a million and one questions if your parents ended up coming back whilst he was at yours. As soon as you walked through the door, he closed it behind him, almost trapping you in with him. The space suddenly felt small and intimate, filled with the tension that crackled between you.

You walked over to sit on your bed, watching him glance around your bedroom. It was the first time a boy had ever seen your room, and you were somehow comfortable with it, despite knowing your parents would freak out.

Rafe took in every detail of your room: the soft, floral-patterned duvet on the bed, the fluffy pillows, the framed photos of you and your family… He couldn’t explain the feeling in his chest as he looked around, a strange mixture of possessiveness and belonging.

“It’s very you,” he said as he turned around, his gaze finally landing on you, sitting on the bed, your legs crossed in front of you. A small smile found home on his lips as he spoke, and you blushed a little at his words, his observation.

"You think so?" you asked, your voice soft as your eyes met his. You couldn’t help but return the gesture, a gentle smile of your own curving your lips. Rafe nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from reaching out and touching you.

He walked over to you, sitting down on the side of the bed, in front of you. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "Why’d you ask me to come over?"

The question he ask brought back the nervousness you were feeling earlier, and you hesitated for a moment before responding. "I… I needed to talk to you," you said, your voice quiet but steady.

“So talk.”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. You’d wanted to talk to him, but now that he was here, sitting in front of you, waiting for you to say something, you felt a little unsure of yourself.

“I think…” you began, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You took another deep breath before your rambling started. “I think I like you. Well, I’m pretty sure I do, but I’m scared because I overthink a lot. I can’t stop thinking about how I’m basically betraying Sarah and if you didn’t feel the same way, I could ruin two friendships that I really cherish all because I-”

Before you could continue, you felt his lips on yours, cutting off your endless string of words.

Rafe had watched as you rambled, his expression softening ever so slightly. He had expected a lot of things when you asked him to come over, but admitting to liking him hadn’t been one of them.

The moment his lips touched yours, all your thoughts vanished, replaced by the intense sensations flooding through you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, all you could do was feel. His palms were against your cheek, his thumbs gently stroking your jaw, whilst your hands found their place on his wrists.

He pulled away just enough to speak, his voice a rough whisper. “You need to stop talking, babe.” The nickname, coupled with his gravelly voice and intense gaze, sent a shiver of pleasure through your body. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the party.”

His eyes were full of affection as he looked at you, a gentle smile on his face that held nothing but adoration. He ran his fingers along your jawline, tracing your features like they were delicate, something to be treasured.

“Really?” you asked, voice but a whisper and laced with surprise and curiosity.

Rafe slowly dragged his thumb over your lower lip, his touch gentle. “You’ve got no idea what you’ve been doing to me,” he said, voice softer than you had ever heard it. “Can’t think straight when I’m around you. Can’t concentrate on anything else but you.”

Your made him feel strangely vulnerable, a feeling he wasn't used to, but at the same time, he found that he didn't mind it that much. He was so used to being used, being treated like a prize to be won or an accessory to be flaunted. But now, with you, he found that he actually wanted more than just a meaningless fling.bHe didn't know how to handle these new feelings, but one thing was sure — he wasn't going to mess it up.

You suddenly leaned down and captured his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You didn’t verbally agree on what this meant for you both, but you didn’t need to. You deserved so much more than someone like him, but he wanted you, and he didn't want to let you go.

Rafe Cameron wanted to be selfish — an action he was used to.

He moaned against your mouth, one of his hands leaving your face and moving down to your waist, gently squeezing. His body twisted round slightly, his front now facing you as he leaned closer to you and deepening the kiss.

The sound of his moan sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a sense of pride that you could make him feel something. His hand on your waist was firm, almost possessive as he squeezed, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes.

His tongue ran along your lower lip, silently asking for access, and you parted your lips for him, allowing him to explore your mouth. The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, and you soon found yourself with your head on your pillow, Rafe hovering above you.

Rafe groaned against your lips as your leg brushed against his hardening cock, the feeling sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you, his voice low and guttural as he spoke. "You feel that? You feel what you do to me?"

Rafe’s lips trailed down over your jawline, down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and small love bites as he went. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, breath hot against her skin. “And I’d tell you every day… if you’ll have me.”

You nodded, filled with emotion at his sweet way of asking. “Every day sounds good to me.” Placing your hands against his cheeks and bringing his face back to yours, you captured his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You let out a soft moan against Rafe’s lips.

He loved the sounds that escaped your lips and the way you arched into his touch. It fueled his desire for you even more, knowing that he was the one making you feel this way.

He kisses across your cheek before he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips trailing kisses down your sensitive flesh, his free hand roaming down your body. You giggled as he did so, bringing your hands up to rest on his back. "That tickles!"

He continued his assault on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses and love bites across your sensitive skin. A low, gravelly chuckle vibrated from his throat as he heard you giggle, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his rough, deep voice low in your ear as his lips moved to another sensitive spot, his tongue darting out to tease your skin.

Your giggles turned into a soft moan, your eyes closing as you relished in the pleasure Rafe was giving you. He licked and sucked on you skin, leaving his mark on your neck — letting every one know who you belong to: Rafe Cameron.

Rafe lowered his hand from your waist, his fingers working deftly against the buttons of your shirts before his hand reached in. You moaned as his thumb came into contact with your puffy clit, biting your lip as your head tilted back.

Rafe moved away from your neck, eyes flickering down your lips. “Nuh uh, Sweetheart. Wanna hear you.” You let your lip go, letting it bounce softly back into place. “Good girl.”

Your eyes rolled back when you felt two of his fingers enter you, stretching you out. You were so wet, they slid in easily, not a sting of pain in sight. “Fuck!” you moaned when he curled them, his fingertips rubbing against that spot inside you.

Rafe suddenly reached up and cupped your face in one hand, his thumb stroking gently over your cheek, "Look at me,” he ordered, though his voice held no bitterness. You did as was told, looking up into his blue eyes whilst yours watered in pleasured. “That’s it, baby. Feel good?”

“So good,” you whispered, hand squeezing his bicep.

Rafe’s movements suddenly stopped and you whined in disappointment. “When I ask you a question, I expect to hear the answer.”

“Feels so good, Rafe,” you spoke louder, a moan quickly following as he started fucking you with his fingers. “So fucking good…”

“You belong to me,” Rafe mumbled, seemingly to himself despite also talking to you. He wasn't used to ever being possessive, especially over a person, but the thought of you belonging to anyone else pissed him off. “Say it. Say you belong to me.”

“I belong to you, Rafe,” you cried out, looking up at the man above you and his fingers moved faster. “I’m yours.”

“Damn fucking right you are.”

Rafe suddenly removed his fingers and got off your bed to unbuckle his belt. The clanging caught your attention, and your mouth watered as you watched him pull it from the loops of his jeans — which were next to leave, his shirt following after.

He crawled back over you, claiming your mouth with his as he kissed you deeply. His hand moved to your bottoms, hooking his fingers on the edge and pulling both your shorts and underwear down at the same time. He pressed his forehead to yours. “You want this?”

“So badly,” you begged, nodding against him. Your hands came back up to his back — touching the bare skin this time. “Please, baby.”

"Yeah?” Rafe placed his hands on your stomach, pushing your top up as his hands went higher. He cupped your tits, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You nodded again, reaching a hand down to stroke his cock, thumb rubbing over the head to collect the pre-cum. His eyes fluttered closed, a moan leaving him. “Fuck.”

He gently slapped your hand away, replacing it with his own and guiding himself to your entrance. Your eyes rolled back when he pushed forward, sinking into your warmth. Your nails dug into his biceps as he pulled back, only to thrust back into you.

“Damn," he groaned. "You feel so good, baby. So damn good.” He rested his forehead on yours again, watching himself disappear into you with every movement of his hips, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he felt you, all of you.

One of his hands moved to your throat, adding just enough pressure — the way you like. “Just like that,” you moaned, your legs wrapped around his waist so he could go deeper, ankles crossed at his lower back.

Rafe wanted to see your face while he was inside you, wanted to see the look on your face as he made you feel nothing but pleasure. He used the hand around your throat to nudge your chin upwards, you getting the hint. You did as he wanted, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. He groaned as he looked at your face, his eyes roaming over your features, taking in every little expression, every little sound that escaped your lips.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his hips speeding up, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. He suddenly pressed his lips to your neck as he mumbled against your skin, "God, I can't get enough of you."

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, the sensations mounting as he continued to move with you, his force gradually increasing. He nipped at your skin, his teeth sinking in just enough to leave a small mark. He wanted to claim you, to mark you as his, to leave a physical reminder that you belonged to him.

"Need you to fill me up," you moaned, pleading with him. It was a need, not a want. You loved feeling him cum inside you last time, and you didn’t know how you went so long without it. "Please."

His breath caught in his throat as he heard your words, his body reacting immediately. He pinned you down onto the bed, his voice low and guttural, "You want that?"

"Need it," you cried, tears welling in your eyes from the pleasure Rafe was giving you. He could sense you were on the edge, and he knew exactly what you needed, what you craved.

He started moving faster, his hips snapping against the backs of your thighs in a firm, steady rhythm. He was so close to the edge, he just needed to hear you say it one more time...

"You're mine, baby. Say it."

"I'm yours, Rafe," you clung onto him, letting out a loud moan as his thumb found your clit again — the little bundle of nerves swollen and begging for attention. “All yours.”

He felt a primal satisfaction surge through him as he listened to you speak, and his thrusts got faster, less controlled. Your legs started to shake, so close to the edge, and your fingernails dug into the skin of his back, scratching down it once again and leaving bright red marks in their wake.

"You're all mine," he grunted against your skin.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

A loud moan ripped through your throat as you came undone around him, head thrown back against your pillow and eyes squeezed closed.

Rafe felt you squeeze him, the sensations sending him over the edge. He let out a guttural groan as he came, pushing himself as deep as he could go and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he shuddered. He couldn't speak for a few moments, his body going boneless as he collapsed on top of you. He was completely shaken, his body quivering from the force of his orgasm.

He lay like that for a moment, trying to catch his breath as it left him in ragged gasps. He eventually spoke, his voice low and gravelly, "Damn, baby. That was..."

"Incredible."

The two of you basked in each other’s arms, sweat dripping down your bodies. You were feeling relaxed, content in Rafe’s arms… until you heard the front door open.

“Y/N, we’re back!”

[mssalo]

after hours

Joel Miller has been yours for a month now, and while things between you are steady, Jackson’s demands have kept you too busy for his liking. Missing you fiercely, Joel decides to pick you up after a late night, only for his mood to sour when Paul monopolizes your time. What starts as a simple check-in turns into something much more when Joel finally gets you alone or well... the other way around.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Sub!Joel, Dom!fem!reader, explicit sexual content, oral (m! and f! receiving), throat fucking, Joel nearly getting rimmed (not quite yet, though - we getting there), Joel kissing your feet for a sec, jealousy (hello, Paul), office sex kinda, praise kink, Joel being a desperate, needy mess, - and soft emotional moments because I'm nice

This can be read as a standalone but officially its part two of ma'am.

7k. Enjoy!

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The sun had long since set, casting Jackson in a blanket of cool twilight. Joel sat at the small kitchen table in his house, staring down at the unlit candle sitting in front of him.

He turned it slowly between his rough fingers, the faint scent of something warm and sweet drifting up to him- something that reminded him of you.

He’d found it earlier on patrol, tucked away in an abandoned cabin, and the moment the smell hit him, you’d been all he could think about.

The softness of it, the quiet comfort - it was you to him. He wasn’t sure why he picked it up, not at first.

Gifts weren’t exactly something he knew how to give anymore, and hell, he didn’t even know if it was too early for something like this. A month together wasn’t long, but for Joel, it felt like something impossible.

You had slipped into his life like sunlight, warm and steady, breaking through cracks he didn’t know were there. In just a month, you’d pulled him out of a place he thought he’d never leave, and it scared him sometimes - how much he cared. How much he wanted to hold onto you.

But lately, Jackson had taken up so much of your time. You still saw each other - quiet dinners, soft conversations, and kisses stolen in the fading light of day but that’s all there had been.

Between long shifts, late nights, and endless meetings, you’d been stretched thin, and Joel could see it. He didn’t resent you for it - how could he? You were the heart of this place, keeping everything and everyone steady. It was just…

He missed you.

And tonight, when the clock struck well past 11, and you still hadn’t come home, something in him stirred. Joel wasn’t the type to chase someone down, but tonight, he couldn’t just sit in the quiet house anymore.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed his jacket, stuffing the candle carefully into his pocket. The cold air bit at his skin as he stepped out onto the gravel path, boots crunching softly as he made his way toward the main building where he knew you’d still be.

As he climbed the stairs and spotted the warm light glowing from beneath your office door, he felt some of the tension ease in his chest.

You were safe. Good. But then he heard it—soft voices, yours and another man’s - Paul.

Joel paused just outside, his jaw clenching. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but something about it—about how Paul’s voice carried that too-familiar tone, how your own voice stayed calm and professional - made his teeth grind.

Paul. Joel knew exactly who he was, young, good-looking, dependable. Always where you were, always taking up your time. Joel resented him for it. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he was damn sure Paul wanted you - how could he not? Hell, Joel figured everyone did.

You were strong, beautiful, impossible to ignore.

And Joel? He still didn’t quite know how he’d gotten lucky enough to have you, and it ate at him, hearing Paul’s voice when he wanted to see and talk to you so badly himself.

His brow furrowed, and he stopped just outside the slightly ajar door.

“- appreciate the update, Paul,” you were saying, your voice calm and professional. “We’ll make adjustments to the roster tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” Paul replied, his tone polite but with a hint of familiarity that set Joel’s teeth on edge.

Joel peeked through the crack in the door and felt his chest tighten.

You were leaning partially against your desk, your posture relaxed but commanding, your sleeves pushed up to your elbows as you gestured toward a stack of papers in front of you.

The soft lamplight illuminated your face, highlighting the curve of your jaw, the way your blouse clung just right.

You looked… god, you looked so fucking good.

Too good.

Joel’s jaw worked as he stepped into the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his presence heavy and awkward.

You glanced up at him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “Joel?”

He shifted on his feet, his gaze flicking between you and Paul, unsure of what to say. His fists clenched at his sides, and he suddenly felt out of place, like he was intruding.

Paul turned to look at him as well, his expression polite but curious. “Evening, Joel,” he said with a nod.

Joel gave a tight nod in return, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to think of something to say. But his gaze kept drifting back to you - your relaxed posture, the slight smirk tugging at your lips as you studied him.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you read the situation.

“I think we can wrap up for tonight, Paul,” you said smoothly, your voice taking on a sharper edge. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow.”

Paul blinked, glancing between the two of you before nodding. “Sure. Have a good night.”

You waited until Paul had gathered his things and stepped out of the office before turning your full attention to Joel. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the desk, one brow arched as you studied him.

“Well?” you said, your tone light but teasing. “What’s on your mind, Miller?”

Joel shuffled his feet, his eyes darting to the floor. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “Just… you were workin’ late. Wanted to check on you.”

Your lips curved into a slow smile, and you pushed off the desk, stepping toward him. “And here I thought you were giving Paul the stink eye,” you teased, stopping just in front of him.

Joel’s ears burned, and his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “Wasn’t givin’ him anythin’,” he mumbled, his gaze stubbornly avoiding yours.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, tilting your head as you watched him squirm. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Joel’s voice was quiet, thick with a mix of concern and something deeper. “You shouldn’t work so late,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto yours for just a moment before darting away again. “It ain’t good for you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Baby, I’m alright,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

But Joel’s jaw tightened, and his shoulders remained stiff. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a clear sign he was holding something back.

You stepped closer, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his scruffy cheeks. “Hey,” you murmured, leaning in until your forehead almost touched his. “I mean it. I’m okay. You can breathe, you know.”

He exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into your touch. “Just… can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice rough and low. “You do too much. Somebody’s gotta make sure you take care of yourself.”

Your smile softened, and you pressed a brief, chaste kiss to his forehead. “You’re sweet,” you said, your tone teasing but warm. “But I’ve got this, Joel. I promise.”

With that, you turned back to the desk, leaning slightly as you reached for a stack of papers you’d been organizing before Joel arrived.

Your blouse shifted as you moved, the fabric pulling taut across your back and revealing a hint of the smooth skin at your waist. You pushed up your sleeves absentmindedly, as you flipped through the papers with a focused efficiency that had Joel rooted in place.

Joel tried to focus on your words, on the way you calmly explained whatever you’d been discussing with Paul before he barged in, but his mind betrayed him.

His eyes trailed over the curve of your back, the dip of your waist, the way your pants hugged your hips. His pulse quickened, heat creeping up his neck as he imagined you sitting back on that desk, your legs spread as you guided his head between them.

Fuck.

Joel clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides as he tried to shove the thought away, but it was no use.

The image was too vivid—the taste of you, the sound of your breathy moans, the way you’d hold his hair as he worshipped you. He could practically feel the pressure of your thighs around his head, your voice low and commanding as you told him to keep going, good boy.

“Joel?”

Your voice jolted him from his spiraling thoughts, and his head snapped up. You were looking over your shoulder, one eyebrow raised, your lips tugged into a curious smirk. “You okay over there?”

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Just… thinkin’.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, turning fully to face him now.

You leaned back against the desk, crossing your arms over your chest, and Joel’s eyes—completely against his will—dropped for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. Your smirk deepened, and Joel’s ears burned.

“You sure about that?” you teased, tilting your head. “Because it seems like your thoughts might be wandering.”

“I—” Joel started, but the words caught in his throat.

He looked away, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought to regain control. But the way you leaned against the desk, your confidence radiating in every movement, was doing things to him he couldn’t stop.

You watched him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, your smirk softening into something more thoughtful.

Then, you straightened, uncrossing your arms and stepping closer. “Joel,” you said softly, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart skip. “What’s really on your mind?”

His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, your fingers brushing lightly over his forearm.

He wanted to answer, but the words tangled in his throat, his mind still clouded with the image of you, the way you’d look under him—no, above him.

You tilted your head, studying him like you could see right through him, and your lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I see,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement.

Joel’s mouth opened, then closed again. He shook his head quickly, his ears burning, but you didn’t let him squirm away this time.

You stepped even closer, your fingers trailing up to rest lightly against his chest. “Come on, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing. “You can tell me.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to yours, then away again. “It’s… I just—” He stopped, his hands clenching at his sides as he let out a frustrated sigh. “You make it impossible to think, y’know that?”

Your smile widened, your head tilting as you regarded him.

“Oh?” you said, your tone light but edged with something darker, something that made Joel’s stomach flip. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”

Joel hesitated, his gaze flicking to the desk behind you for just a second before he looked away again, his jaw tightening. But it was enough. Your eyes sparkled with realization, and you leaned in, your voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Thinking about me on that desk, baby?” you murmured, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Thinking about how good it’d feel to put that mouth of yours to work?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, his pupils blown wide. “I—fuck,” he rasped, his voice breaking

Your smirk deepened, and you reached up to brush your fingers through his hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “Go on, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like velvet. “Say it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was caught mid-thought.

“I—fuck,” he rasped, voice cracking under the weight of whatever was bubbling inside him.

You smirked, tilting your head, and let your fingers glide into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“All day, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you—‘bout gettin’ my mouth on you. Feelin’ your thighs against my face, your taste on my tongue. Can’t stop.” His voice dropped into a low growl, his breath uneven.

“Can’t even fuckin’ think straight when you’re standin’ there lookin’ like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Didn’t I take care of you this morning, sweet one?”

His jaw flexed, and he groaned softly, his eyes dropping to your lips, then trailing over your body with an intensity that made your stomach clench.

“It wasn’t enough,” he muttered, voice desperate. “It’s never enough. You ruin me, darlin’. I just… I need you.”

You leaned back against the desk, arms crossed casually over your chest, and his eyes followed the movement, locking onto the subtle shift of your body.

“Take my pants off, Joel,” you said, your voice calm but firm, like it was the simplest request in the world.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his fingers already moving before he could fully process your words.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he stepped closer. His hands were unsteady, reverent, as they found the waistband of your pants, hesitating for just a moment before undoing the button and sliding the zipper down.

The air between you crackled as he knelt in front of you, his hands gently tugging your pants down over your hips.

His lips parted, and you heard the faintest gasp as your panties came into view, a darkened spot already visible where your arousal soaked through.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered, his voice low and wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t even know what you do to me.”

You smirked, leaning forward slightly, one hand brushing through his hair. “I know exactly what I do to you, baby,” you murmured. “That’s why you’re on your knees for me, isn’t it?”

Joel tugged the rest of your pants free, his movements quick and deliberate, pausing only to slide your shoes off and set them aside.

The moment your legs were bare, he hesitated, his eyes darting down to your feet before he leaned in suddenly, pressing his lips to the top of one foot.

The soft, warm press of his mouth sent a shiver through you, and you let out a startled laugh, tilting your head as you looked down at him. “Joel,” you said, your voice low with curiosity and amusement. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his lips traveled over the arch of your foot, slow and reverent, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick and trembling.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. Every part of you—” His tongue flicked out briefly, dragging along the delicate curve of your ankle. “—drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your breath caught as his hands slid up to cradle your calves, his lips brushing against the arch of your other foot.

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft but edged with heat. “Are you a feet-guy now?”

His head snapped up, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes were dark with pure, unfiltered want.

“I’m a you guy,” he rasped, his voice rough and uneven. “I’d worship every inch of you if you let me, ma’am.”

The sincerity and desperation in his voice made heat pool low in your belly, and you smirked, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Every inch, huh?” you teased, your tone sultry. “Guess I should let you, then.”

His lips parted as he stared up at you, his chest heaving like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “Please,” he whispered, the single word dripping with need as his hands gripped your legs tighter. “Let me.”

Joel didn’t hesitate when you gave him a soft nod, your smirk still firmly in place.

His hands slid slowly down your thighs, reverent and careful, like you might vanish if he wasn’t gentle.

Joels lips parted as he lowered his head, brushing a slow, deliberate kiss against your knee before trailing lower, his breath warm and shaky against your skin.

“Go on, baby,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilted your head, watching him with a lazy sort of dominance. “Show me how much you mean it.”

Joel groaned softly, his hands trembling as they gripped your thighs tighter. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, the heat of his lips sending a shiver up your spine.

His nose brushed against your skin as he moved closer, inhaling deeply like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “Smell so good. Always do.”

Your smirk deepened, and you gave his hair a soft tug, guiding him closer to where you wanted him.

“You’ve got a smart mouth when it comes to saying all the right things, Joel,” you teased, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, put it to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel rasped, his voice trembling. He didn’t waste another second, his lips brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.

The first touch made him groan, the sound desperate and guttural as he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging against your clit.

You gasped softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. “That’s it, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm and encouraging. “Yeah, just like that.”

Joel’s tongue flicked out, dragging along the wet patch that had already formed against the thin fabric.

He moaned as the taste of you hit his tongue, and the vibrations of the sound sent a sharp jolt of heat through your core.

His lips latched onto you through your panties, sucking softly as his nose pressed harder against your clit, grinding into you with every movement.

“You’re such a good boy, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk. “Look at you, so desperate to please. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He whimpered, his hands sliding up to grip your hips as he buried his face deeper against you.

“Every day,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Think about it every damn day. Wanna taste you, wanna make you feel so good.”

You smiled, the sound low and indulgent as you gave his hair another tug. “Then take them off, baby,” you whispered, your tone commanding but patient. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel’s hands shook as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, his lips brushing against your hip as he slid them down your legs.

He didn’t even bother to move them completely out of the way, his attention entirely on the sight of you bared before him. His breath hitched, and he licked his lips, his eyes dark and filled with reverence.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice wrecked.

You chuckled softly, leaning back against the desk and letting your thighs fall open a little wider.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leaned in, his lips parting to drag his tongue slowly through your folds.

The first taste always made him moan so loudly you couldn’t help but smile, and his tongue worked with desperate precision, lapping at your entrance before moving up to flick over your clit.

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed, your nails grazing against his scalp. “You’re so eager, baby. So good at this.”

He whimpered against you, his tongue pressing harder against your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking gently.

His nose brushed against you with every movement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he lost himself in you.

“Keep going, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm but firm.

Joel moaned again, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as his tongue worked faster, licking and sucking like a man possessed.

He was all-in, his desperation and devotion pouring into every movement, every sound, every shuddering breath.

Joel pulled back briefly, his face slick with your arousal, his breaths heavy and uneven. His thick fingers slid up your inner thighs, his touch featherlight, reverent, like he was handling something holy.

He reached your folds, his large fingers spreading your pussy lips apart, exposing your swollen, glistening clit to his dark, hungry gaze.

“Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice low and trembling as he stared.

His fingers gently held you open, and for a moment, all he could do was look - memorizing the way you glistened, the way your cunt clenched with anticipation.

His mouth opened slightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he bit down softly on the plush skin of your inner thigh, making you jolt.

“Joel,” you warned, your voice thick with arousal. “Don’t just look.”

Slowly, he leaned in to take your throbbing clit into his mouth again. - But then, under his breath, he grumbled,"Bet that asshole Paul ain't ever seen somethin' this fuckin' pretty."

Your brows furrowed immediately, the heat between you both briefly eclipsed by confusion. "Paul?" you snapped, your grip tightening in his hair, pulling his head back roughly.

Joel winced but didn't dare meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed as his lips glistened from where he'd already tasted you.

"You're jealous?" you demanded, a mix of amusement and annoyance in your tone, though there was something undeniably sultry in the way you said it.

Joel stammered, shaking his head, though his guilty expression betrayed him. "I just- he don't deserve to be 'round you like that."

You blinked, momentarily surprised by his audacity.

Then, something wicked curled in your chest, and your smirk returned as you leaned forward, your fingers threading into his hair to tug him to his feet.

Joel stumbled up, flustered, his face red as you pushed him back against the table with a force that knocked the breath out of him.

"You're jealous of Paul," you said again, quieter now, voice dripping with mock disdain as you stepped closer, your hips brushing against his.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the table for balance as you caged him in, your body pressing against his like he had nowhere to go.

His lips parting to reply, but no sound came out. His eyes darted to yours, wide and needy as you leaned in close, your lips ghosting over his ear.

"Would I touch Paul like this, Joel?" you murmured, your voice low and teasing as your hand slid down to press against the thick bulge straining in his pants.

Joel let out a strangled whimper, his hips jerking forward instinctively at the contact.

"Answer me," you commanded softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make him groan. "Would he be this hard for me?"

"Fuck-no," Joel choked out, his voice wrecked and trembling. His knuckles turned white where he gripped the table, his whole body tense beneath your touch. "Ain't no one else gets this. Just me. Please - always me, ma'am."

"That's what I thought," you whispered, a smug smile curving your lips as you slowly unbuttoned his pants.

Joel's chest rose and fell in sharp, shaky breaths as he watched your every move, his gaze dark and glassy with need.

"You think Paul could ever handle me the way you do?" you continued, teasing the waistband of his boxers now, your fingers brushing the bare skin of his hips. "Think he'd know how to please me like you do, baby?"

Joel shook his head desperately, his voice barely a whisper as he rasped, "No, ma'am.Never."

"Good boy," you purred, leaning back just enough to look him in the eye.

Joel's hips bucked forward slightly, his cock throbbing beneath your touch, but you stilled him with a firm press of your hand.

"You really think l'd let anyone else have me like this?" you murmured, your tone low and commanding. "You think I'd let anyone but you eat my cunt in this office?"

Joel whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he let out a shaky, broken sound that shot straight to your core.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Please— don't stop."

You smirked, leaning down to press your lips to the corner of his jaw, letting your teeth graze his skin. "You want me to prove it to you, hm, baby?"

Joel nodded frantically, his head falling back as his entire body trembled beneath you.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice raw and needy.

"Please... Show me l'm yours. I'll do anything, ma'am. Anything."

And with that, you sank back down to your knees in front of him, dragging his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, leaving him bare and vulnerable as you stared up at him, the wicked gleam in your eyes making Joel's cock throb painfully in anticipation.

"Alright, handsome," you whispered darkly, your lips brushing over the sensitive tip of him as Joel let out a desperate groan, his hips jerking forward.

"Be a good boy, and I'll make you feel like the only man in the world."

Joel's head tipped back, his hands scrambling for purchase on the edge of the table as your mouth closed around him, and the only word he could manage was a broken, worshipful, "Fuck."

You kissed along the thick length of his cock, slow and deliberate, dragging your tongue in a wet line up the underside until you reached the sensitive tip.

Joel’s body tensed, and a deep, broken groan tore from his throat as his hips jerked forward, chasing your touch.

“Ma‘am,” he choked out, his voice rough, his knuckles white where he gripped the desk behind him. His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths, eyes blown wide with need as they met yours.

You smirked wickedly, your lips brushing over his flushed, aching head. “Yeah, baby?” you teased, your voice dripping with dark amusement as you kissed him softly, deliberately avoiding where he wanted you most.

“Looks like you’ve been neglected.” You licked up the shaft again, savoring the way he whimpered, the sound breaking into a low, strangled growl. “But that’s on me, huh? I’ve been so busy…”

Joel’s head tipped back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You’re—fuck, you’re what Jackson needs,” he stammered, his voice wrecked and almost pleading. “S’okay. I get it. You—you’re keepin’ us safe.”

His hands shook as he forced himself to look back at you, his eyes glassy with desperation.

“Oh, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk as you nipped lightly at the sensitive skin, making him jolt with a sharp inhale.

“Jackson might need me—but I got someone else at home who needs me now too, hm?” You shot him a pointed look, your tongue flicking out to swirl around the tip as Joel let out a wrecked noise that made you clench around nothing.

His breath stuttered, his entire body trembling beneath your touch. “Me,” he rasped, his voice cracking into a whimper, the word soft and desperate as it fell from his lips.

You hummed, lips curling as you dragged your tongue along the sensitive ridge beneath his head before wrapping your mouth around him completely, taking him slow and deep until the tip nudged the back of your throat.

Joel let out a loud, guttural groan, his hips jerking involuntarily as he felt the wet heat of your mouth envelop him completely.

You pulled back just enough to let him slip free, a trail of spit and pre-cum stretching between your lips and his swollen, aching cock.

It twitched violently in the cool air, slick and flushed dark at the tip, thick veins standing out along his length as it oozed a steady bead of milky pre-cum.

Your eyes trailed over it with a wicked glint, drinking in the sight of him—so messy, so utterly ruined—and your lips curled into a slow, smug smile as you lazily pumped him with your slick hand.

The noise it made was filthy, each movement a slow, deliberate glide of your palm over his slicked skin. “Look at you, Joel. You’re already such a mess for me.”

You dragged your thumb over his leaking slit, smearing the pre-cum down the length of him, and his hips bucked sharply, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.

“Christ,” he choked, his head falling back, his jaw slack as his chest heaved. “Darlin’, please - please, I- ”

“Please what?” you teased, your tone light and mocking as you leaned back in, your lips brushing over the tip again, barely there.

Joel’s whole body jolted, and he whimpered—so loudly—as your tongue darted out to swirl around him, gathering the salty slick that had gathered there.

“Wanna fuck my throat, baby?” you murmured darkly, your gaze locked on his as your lips curled into a slow smile.

“Is that what you’re so desperate for? Hm? That big cock of yours buried all the way in, feelin’ me tight around you?”

Joel let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a plea, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice raw and wrecked. “God, yes, darlin’. I—fuck—please.”

“Then go ahead,” you purred, your hand stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. “Go on, Joel. Take it.”

He froze for half a second, as if the permission short-circuited his brain, before he stepped closer, his hands finally leaving the desk to cradle your jaw.

You let your mouth fall open, your tongue teasing his tip as he slid in, slow and careful, testing the waters. Your eyes stayed locked on his, and you hummed approvingly, encouraging him to move deeper.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you murmured between breaths, your voice thick with sin. “I can take it.”

Joel groaned, deep and guttural, as he pushed further, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You swallowed around him, and the sound that ripped from his chest was wrecked, his hips twitching as he fought not to lose control.

Slowly, he rocked forward, fucking into your mouth with careful, shallow thrusts, each movement slick and filthy with spit and pre-cum. You could feel him throbbing, could hear the desperate, broken noises spilling from him every time he hit just right.

“Jesus,” Joel gritted out, his voice low and wrecked as his fingers threaded into your hair, guiding you gently. “Feels so fuckin’ good, ma“am. So fuckin’ perfect—goddamn.”

You let him thrust just a little deeper, taking him until your nose pressed against the dark curls at the base of his cock.

Your throat flexed around him, swallowing him whole, and the growl that tore from his chest was loud and shattered, his control slipping further.

He pulled back, your spit trailing in thick, messy strings along his length, and you let out a satisfied hum as you pulled away completely, your lips wet and slick with him.

But you weren’t done.

Your hands slid up his thighs as you leaned lower, pressing your lips to his balls. Joel’s hips jolted sharply, his legs trembling beneath him as you kissed him softly, your tongue flicking out to trace the sensitive skin.

You smirked against him, releasing him with a wet pop before flattening your tongue and dragging it slowly, teasingly, down the sensitive skin just beneath his balls.

Joel’s whole body jerked, his knees threatening to give out as he let out a choked, desperate shout, his fingers tightening painfully in your hair.

“Yes,” he gasped, the word breaking as it tumbled out of him. “Yes, fuck, yes!” His voice cracked, hoarse and wrecked, as you continued your slow, deliberate path, your tongue barely grazing where he was most sensitive.

The filthy noises spilling from him grew louder, more frantic, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you pushed him further and further over the edge.

“Like that, baby?” you purred, pulling back just enough to whisper against the trembling skin. “Want me to lick even lower, huh? Is that what you want?”

Joel let out something between a sob and a growl, his head snapping back as his mouth fell open, panting for air like a man starved.

His body shook violently, and before he could even get the words out, his release hit - a sharp, shuddering jolt that tore through him like lightning.

“Fuck- oh, ma‘am- fuck!” Joel roared, his hips surging forward as his cock throbbed and pulsed, spurting hot, thick ropes of cum across your face and blouse, the first one hitting so hard you moaned softly at the sheer force of it.

His voice echoed off the walls, a deep, primal sound that he didn’t try to be quiet - didn’t care who heard.

“Shit- oh, darlin’ - fuck, I- ” Joel was lost to it, wrecked and trembling, his hands shaking in your hair as his cock twitched again, more of his release spilling onto your tongue and chin.

You caught as much of it as you could, sucking softly at the head of him as he moaned, loud and shattered, the tension in his body finally breaking.

“Such a good boy for me, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice thick with satisfaction as you swirled your tongue lazily over his still-pulsing tip, gathering the last drops of him.

His cock was slick and messy now, glistening with cum and your spit, and the sight of him—ruined and trembling, his thighs shaking so hard he could barely stand—made you smirk with pure satisfaction.

Joel’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stared down at you, his face flushed and wrecked, his chest heaving like he’d run for miles.

“Jesus,” he rasped, his voice barely there, as if the words were dragged out of him.

You licked at your lips, smearing a streak of his release off your cheek with your thumb before sliding it into your mouth, sucking softly as you held his gaze.

Joel’s body jerked at the sight, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull you up or drop to his knees.

“Made such a mess, baby,” you teased softly, reaching up to stroke his still-twitching cock, your hand gliding easily over the slick mess coating him.

Joel groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips gave an involuntary jerk at your touch.

“Didn’t even care who heard you, huh?”

Joel let out a low, wrecked sound, his face buried in his arm as he leaned heavily against the desk for support. “Don’t fuckin’ care,” he muttered, his voice muffled and rough. “Let ‘em hear. Let ‘em all know I’m yours.”

You smirked, rising slowly to your feet, your body grazing his as you straightened. Joel’s hands found your waist immediately, his grip still shaky, like he needed to hold on to you or risk collapsing completely.

You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, low and sweet, “That’s right, baby. You’re mine.”

Joel groaned softly, his head tilting back to meet your gaze, those dark eyes still heavy-lidded, glassy with the remnants of his release.

There was something else there too - something softer, flickering in the depths as he stared at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Always yours,” he rasped, his voice still wrecked but thick with something deeper. “No one else, darlin’. Just you.”

Your smirk softened, your fingers sliding up to trace along the stubble of his jaw before you cupped his face gently in your hands. “Yeah?” you murmured.

Joel’s breath hitched as you tilted your head and kissed him—softly, slowly—your lips molding to his in a kiss that stripped away the desperation and left nothing but warmth.

He sighed into it, his arms wrapping fully around you now, pulling you in close until you were flush against him.

You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “I’m yours too. Always.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his hands tightening on your waist as his thumb traced slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Okay, baby? No need to give Paul the stinky eye,” you teased softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Joel’s brows knit together, his face shifting into something defensive but playful as he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“I wasn’t givin’ him the stinky eye,” he grumbled, though the way his jaw twitched betrayed him.

You snorted, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up. “Joel,” you teased, your grin spreading wide.

Joel’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through, and he huffed softly, shaking his head. “You’re seein’ things, darlin’,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind his words.

You laughed harder, leaning your forehead against his as his low, rough chuckle finally broke free, rumbling deep in his chest.

The sound sent warmth flooding through you, and before you could say another word, his lips found yours again.

This kiss was softer now—easy, lingering, the kind of kiss that said I’m here, and you’re mine.

Joel’s hands slid up your sides, cradling you close as you melted into him, the laughter fading into something softer, something sweeter.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, you brushed your nose against his. “You were totally giving him the stinky eye,” you murmured, grinning.

Joel chuckled again, shaking his head as he pressed another kiss to your lips—soft, deliberate, and warm. “Maybe,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and fond. “Maybe I was.”

Smiling, you brushed your fingers along his jaw, your touch gentle, grounding. “You’re the sexiest and most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on,” you murmured softly, the sincerity in your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Joel froze for just a moment, his brow furrowing slightly like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. Then, his face softened, his cheeks coloring just a little as his lips curved into a lopsided smile.

“You really think that?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost uncertain, as though he didn’t quite believe it.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “No, Joel. I know that. Don’t go gettin’ all humble on me now.”

Your fingers tangled gently in his hair, your voice a whisper. “No one else could hold a candle to you, Joel Miller. You’ve got no reason to be jealous of anyone.”

He huffed out a small laugh, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer, like he needed to feel you against him to believe it.

After a minute - you stepped back. “C’mon, handsome,” you teased, your voice soft but playful, “let’s get home, yeah?” You winked at him, your grin infectious.

Joel huffed a soft laugh, his hands still resting on your hips. “Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, proud smile. “I got somethin’ for you at home. A little somethin’ I found today.”

Your eyes lit up, curiosity sparking as you tugged his hand gently. “Ooh, a present? You’re spoilin’ me, Miller,” you teased, grinning wide.

Joel chuckled, ears red, shaking his head as he let you pull him along.

· · ──𖥸

“A candle?” you breathed, your eyes widening as you turned it over in your hands, the label simple but faintly worn.

The smell of something warm and sweet reached your nose, and you blinked up at Joel, completely caught off guard.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the floor as a faint pink crept across his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, a little awkwardly, his voice low. “Found it while we were out on patrol. Smell reminded me of you… I don’t know, somethin’ soft and warm—real nice. Figured maybe you’d… like it.”

He shifted slightly, his hands fidgeting against his jeans as he added quickly, “I mean, it’s nothin’ fancy. If it’s too much or too soon—”

“Joel,” you interrupted softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you brought the candle closer, inhaling the faint, soothing scent.

Something in your chest tightened, an unexpected warmth spreading through you that made your throat feel thick. It had been so long—years, really—since anyone had given you something just because they thought of you.

Joel paused mid-ramble, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, worry lingering in his expression.

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward and kissed him—soft, sweet, and lingering.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky, tears threatening to spill as you smiled up at him. “Thank you so much, Joel. You don’t… you don’t know what this means to me.”

Joel’s brows softened, his hands reaching out to cup your face gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, “you’re welcome, darlin’. I just… I wanted you to have somethin’ nice. Somethin’ that’s yours.”

You smiled, blinking through the tears as you leaned into his touch.

“No one’s given me a gift since I was seventeen,” you admitted softly, a hint of laughter in your voice as you tried to play it off, but Joel’s expression only grew more tender.

“Well, I’m makin’ up for lost time, then,” he said, his voice steady, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You let out a soft laugh, pressing your forehead against his, your hand still clutching the candle like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re somethin’ else, Joel Miller,” you whispered, your voice fond and thick with emotion.

Joel chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Yeah, well… you’re worth it.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

PROMISCUOUS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !!)

SUMMARY: in which y/n’s outfit on set for outer banks causes quite a problem for her boyfriend, drew.

based on this ask !! thank you so much my lovely, you always have the BEST requests :) my requests are unfortunately closed at the moment as i have a lot to catch up on, but i hope you all understand <3 PLEASE READ A/N AT THE END !!

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: allusions to sex, mentions of alcohol, cursing, drew getting a boner (i’m gonna’ rate this one 16+?), reader being a baddie !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The Outer Banks set was buzzing with energy as the cast and crew prepared for the next scene. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the lavish beach house where the party scene was being filmed. Music blasted from the speakers, extras milled about with red Solo cups in hand, and the scent of saltwater mixed with the faint aroma of fake alcohol. It was the kind of chaotic yet controlled environment that made filming party scenes both exciting and exhausting.

Y/N adjusted her outfit, running her hands over the fabric of her black halter top. The plunging neckline dipped dangerously low, exposing a generous amount of skin, while the silky material draped perfectly over her curves. It tied at the back of her neck, leaving her shoulders and most of her back bare. Paired with it was a black micro mini skirt that sat low on her hips, held in place by a wide belt with a bold silver buckle. The skirt barely reached mid-thigh, leaving her legs completely exposed—save for the sleek, knee-high platform boots that gave her an extra few inches of height. The chunky heels made her legs look even longer, accentuating the confident, sultry energy she was radiating. To top it off, she had a pair of black wraparound sunglasses perched on her head, the silver star details on the sides glinting under the bright set lights.

She knew she looked good.

And judging by the way Drew was staring at her, so did he.

He was sitting in Rafe Cameron's signature relaxed but dominant posture—legs spread slightly, an arm draped over the back of the couch, watching her with a look that made her stomach flutter. His jaw was slightly clenched, his tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek, and his eyes were absolutely eating her up.

"What?" she asked teasingly, placing a hand on her hip.

Drew shook his head, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "Nothing, just... wow."

"Wow?" She cocked an eyebrow, stepping closer so that only he could hear. "That all you got for me, Starkey?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head slightly as he looked her up and down. "You look fucking hot, babe. And you know it."

A pleased smile spread across her lips, but before she could say anything else, the director called for places. Drew, still in character as Rafe, patted his lap, inviting her to sit. She obeyed, gracefully perching herself on his thighs as they prepared for the scene.

The cameras started rolling.

Y/N's character giggled, twirling a lock of her hair as she gazed up at Rafe with adoration. Her hands rested lightly on his chest, playing with the fabric of his open button-up shirt. Drew, fully immersed in character, smirked at her, his hands gripping her waist as they leaned in close.

"You having fun, baby?" he murmured in his low, sultry Rafe voice.

She let out another flirtatious laugh, tilting her head as she gazed at him. "Always, when I'm with you."

Their lips met, and the kiss quickly deepened. It was just a scene, just acting, but there was an undeniable heat between them. Y/N's fingers curled into Drew's shirt, pulling him closer, while his hands squeezed her hips possessively.

Drew knew they had to keep it professional—had to keep it controlled—but damn, Y/N wasn't making it easy. The way she moved against him, her warm body pressed so close, the scent of her perfume mixing with the ocean air... it was driving him insane.

And then he felt it.

A very real, very inconvenient problem.

The director finally called, "Cut!" and Y/N, still giggling, made a move to hop off his lap. But before she could stand, Drew's hands tightened around her waist, keeping her firmly in place.

She looked down at him, puzzled at first, until realization dawned on her. The moment she understood, her lips curled into a devilish smirk.

"Oh," she whispered, her voice laced with amusement. "Really?"

Drew groaned softly, tilting his head back against the couch. "Don't start, Y/N."

"But I haven't even done anything," she teased, her fingers tracing light patterns over his chest.

"Exactly," he muttered, his grip tightening slightly. "So just stay put for a sec."

Y/N bit her lip, her mischievous streak taking over. "You know, Drew, sitting like this probably isn't helping."

Before he could stop her, she started peppering kisses along his jaw, her lips feather-light as they trailed toward his ear. She wiggled slightly in his lap, knowing damn well what she was doing.

Drew inhaled sharply, his fingers flexing against her hips. "Y/N," he warned under his breath.

"Hmm?" she hummed innocently.

"Oh my God, you two are disgusting," Madison Bailey's voice suddenly cut through their little bubble.

Y/N froze for a second before slowly turning her head. Sure enough, Madison, Rudy Pankow, and Chase Stokes were all standing nearby, watching them with knowing smirks.

Drew groaned, immediately burying his face in Y/N's neck in sheer embarrassment.

"Oh no," Rudy cackled, pointing at them. "No way."

Chase burst out laughing. "Drew, man, are you serious?"

"Shut up," Drew muttered, his voice muffled against Y/N's skin.

Madison grinned, crossing her arms. "It's totally understandable, though. I mean, have you seen Y/N? She looks hot as hell tonight."

"I mean, yeah, but control yourself, bro," Rudy added, still laughing.

Y/N, feeling quite pleased with herself, simply wrapped her arms around Drew's neck and shot them a smug smile. "Can you blame him?"

"Oh, don't feed his ego," Madison groaned, shaking her head.

Drew, finally regaining some composure, lifted his head, his face still slightly flushed. "Are you guys done?"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll leave you two lovebirds alone," Chase said, grinning as he and the others walked away, still chuckling.

Y/N turned back to Drew, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead. "You good now?" she asked sweetly.

Drew let out a long sigh, giving her a pointed look. "Yeah. Thanks for making it worse, by the way."

"Anytime, babe," she replied with a wink before finally getting off his lap.

They moved on to the next scene, which—of course—just so happened to be one of the more intimate ones between their characters. The set was quieter now, the party extras having cleared out, leaving just the crew, intimacy co-ordinator and the main cast.

Y/N's character stood in the dimly lit hallway of the beach house, waiting for Rafe. Drew stepped into place, his hands slipping around her waist as he pulled her close for another kiss—this one slower, deeper, more intimate.

Y/N felt him exhale sharply against her lips before he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, "This is gonna' be a long day."

She grinned against his lips, suppressing a laugh. "Better buckle up, Starkey."

And with that, the cameras rolled again.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

hi all !! sorry for disappearing, i’ve been really sick, to the point i’ve been off work and been out on antibiotics :( but i’m slowly getting there and i’m going to try my best to get some requests published !! i have quite a few in my drafts that need cleaning up, but for now my requests are CLOSED :(

for anyone who follows me that’s an inhaler fan, i’m currently working on a bobby skeetz x fem!of fic that i’ll be publishing on my wattpad soon !!

i’m going to be very busy over the next few weeks as i have a lot going on, so please be patient with me <3

[magical-reid]

Hi I’m sorry to bother but I wanted to know if you have read or seen a fic with Bucky and he has a girlfriend he hasn’t told anyone about but him, nat and Sam so they meet her

I'm not the best person to ask for recommendations, but I'll make you what you're looking for! I hope you like it!

Secrets and Surprises

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 900

Summary: Bucky has been keeping his relationship with you a secret from most of the team, only confiding in Sam and Nat. But when the truth finally comes out, it’s not at all how he imagined.

You stretch up on your tiptoes, reaching for a coffee mug from the top shelf in Bucky's apartment. The morning light filters in through the kitchen window, casting soft shadows on the floor. Just as your fingers graze the handle, you feel a pair of strong hands settle on your waist, pulling you gently against a broad chest.

“Morning, doll.” His voice is husky with sleep, and you feel the warmth of his breath against the side of your temple as his lips brush lightly over your skin.

You smile softly, turning to face him. “Morning,” you murmur, your fingers still on the mug as you give him a teasing smile. “I was going to bring you coffee in bed.”

Bucky’s eyes gleam with mischief as he leans casually against the counter, his arms folding across his chest. “Sweet of you, but you know I can’t stay in bed when you’re up.”

You roll your eyes playfully and hand him his mug. “You’re too soft for me, Barnes.”

He lets out a chuckle, his usual steel-hard exterior slipping as his gaze softens. “And you love it.”

It’s true. There’s something endearing about seeing the once-feared Winter Soldier, a man who had faced battles that would break most people, now wrapped around your finger. But it still made you laugh, watching him melt in ways only you had seen.

As you’re about to tease him more about it, his phone buzzes on the counter. Bucky glances down at it, and his expression falls slightly.

“What’s up?” you ask, sensing the sudden shift in his mood.

“The team. Steve’s calling a meeting.”

You arch an eyebrow, setting the coffee pot down. “You gonna tell them about me?”

Bucky hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. His expression is conflicted, but not out of shame. It’s more complicated than that. After everything he’s been through, he wanted something untouched by scrutiny, a part of his life just for him. He’d only let Sam and Nat in on the secret—because, well, they weren’t easily fooled.

“I will,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a hint of regret. “Soon.”

You nod, your heart understanding his need for space. You’re not in any rush to share this with the world.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Later, the day unfolds in a way you never anticipated. You're sitting at your favorite café, sipping your latte, when your phone buzzes with a text from Sam.

Sam: Come to the compound. Trust me.

You furrow your brow, looking at the message. Sam was never cryptic without a reason.

Without hesitation, you gather your things and head to the Avengers Compound, curiosity gnawing at you. When you arrive, FRIDAY greets you smoothly, letting you in without question. That’s a red flag in itself—Bucky must’ve given her clearance to let you in.

As soon as you step into the common room, a silence hits. The entire team is there, staring at you.

Natasha’s smirking, her arms crossed, while Sam’s wearing a grin that could rival a Cheshire cat’s. And Bucky... Bucky looks like he’s about to burst into flames, his face turning slightly red as he meets your gaze.

“Uh…” you start awkwardly, shifting on your feet. “Hi?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, his expression shifting from confusion to suspicion. “You have a girlfriend?”

Wanda’s jaw is slightly dropped, and Tony raises an eyebrow. “I thought Bucky was sneaking out for midnight brooding walks… but no, turns out he’s been sneaking out to you?”

Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Okay, before anyone starts—yes, we’re together. Yes, I was going to tell you all. No, I didn’t because…”

“Because he’s a secretive little punk,” Sam cuts in, clearly enjoying the moment.

Bucky glares at him. “Not helping, Wilson.”

You suppress a laugh, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “So… surprise?”

Natasha leans back, a satisfied grin on her face. “About time you met them. I was getting tired of being the only one who knew.”

Clint raises a hand. “I have one question. Why were we left out?”

You glance at Bucky, who shrugs sheepishly. “Didn’t want you all scaring her off.”

Tony gasps dramatically, hand over his heart. “Us? Intimidating?”

You snicker, shaking your head. “Maybe just a little.”

The room erupts into overlapping conversations, questions firing off from all directions. How long have you been together? How did you meet? Why the hell did Bucky think he could keep a secret like this from a team of superheroes?

Bucky pulls you closer, his arm wrapping around you, a sign of both protection and reassurance. “Guess the secret’s out.”

You grin up at him, squeezing his hand. “Told you they’d find out eventually.”

Sam slaps Bucky on the back with exaggerated force, clearly enjoying the drama. “Man, you really thought you could keep a secret from us? Rookie mistake.”

Bucky groans in frustration, but you just laugh, feeling more at home with these people than you expected.

This definitely wasn’t how you envisioned meeting the Avengers. But looking around, at Bucky, at all these people who had been through so much and yet still felt like family—this was perfect.

[the-modern-typewriter]

In a recent post you said most of us weren't here for vampires but I beg to differ; your vampire snippets are literally enthralling. If you're in the mood to write another one, here's an excuse for you to do so (pls they're so good-), preferably with an enemies to lover vibe? Who doesn't love a little dramatic tension, right? Thank you!~

"Don't turn around."

The human paused, heart slamming in their chest at the voice. The hall of mirrors was eerie around them, all shadows and neon and flashing lights and distorted glass that offered them no sign of the vampire behind them. After a beat, the hunter kept walking, gaze trained to the wall of mirrors lining the left.

Somewhere, in the distance, they could hear screaming. It was difficult to tell if the sounds were horror or delight.

"What happens if I turn around?" the human asked.

"I'll have to kill you, and neither of us wants that."

"I'm a hunter. I'm pretty sure we both want that fight. Kinda how it goes, you know?"

Yet, the hunter didn't turn around. They had a weapon on them, of course, because they always had a weapon on them. But they hadn't come to the fairground to wage battle against terrible evil. The night was supposed to have been a fun one, candy-floss sticky and sweet with first kisses. A stupid lump wedged in their throat. They hastily wiped the remnant tears from their eyes.

They felt the vampire move next to them, though they heard no steps and felt no breath. Only the slight emanating chill of the undead. Despite themselves, despite knowing better, they searched the glass for any sign. There was nothing.

"What do you want?" the hunter demanded.

"What do you want, coming here?"

"I didn't know this was vampire territory."

"I suppose you are just a baby hunter. How old are? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen," the hunter snapped.

The vampire chuckled. "Seventeen," they echoed. Musing. There was something in their voice that the hunter couldn't quite read.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

The hunter rolled their eyes. They supposed they should have been terrified - on any other day they would have been. They hadn't technically done their first solo hunt yet and even one vampire was not a creature to be taken lightly. Everything in their head was too loud for terror. Too raw.

"Is it the girl you liked, or the boy?" the vampire asked.

"Excuse me?"

"The boy and the girl who were kissing here, not long ago. That you saw. I saw you see them. You looked like you'd been staked through the heart. Which is the one you liked?"

The hunter whirled, furious. They caught a blur of movement before an icy hand clamped over their eyes, slamming them back against the glass hard enough to knock the breath out of them. They were surprised the mirror didn't shatter. Their head throbbed and a low whine of pain slipped free of their throat. The vampire caught their wrist before they'd finished reaching for a weapon, grinding that into the glass behind them too.

"I said," the vampire's lips pressed against their ear, voice a sudden lethal hiss, "don't turn around."

"And I don't take orders from vampires!"

"Touchy subject, was it?" The vampire's grip tightened hard enough to hurt.

"If you're going to kill me, just kill me!"

The vampire was silent, at that. They did not retreat, but their grip eased enough to be only iron instead of something painful. Their body felt hard and lean and strong against the hunter's. Dangerous and gorgeous. Nothing like the gentle wholesomeness of-

"The boy," the hunter said. "Eddie."

"Eddie. And you are?"

"Fuck off, leech."

"You're hot," the vampire said. "Eddie's an idiot."

It startled the hunter enough that the venom died on their tongue and their mouth dried. They'd expected - well, anything but that perhaps. They would have gaped at the vampire if they could see past the press of darkness over their eyes. They were sure their jaw dropped.

Hot. A vampire had just called them hot. Maybe they had concussion. A shiver ran down their spine.

"Want me to kill her for you?" the vampire asked, conspiratorial. "Bet I could make it look like an accident."

"No! She's my friend."

"Some friend. Want me to kiss you?"

The hunter - the hunter had absolutely no idea what to say to that. Well. They knew what they were supposed to say. No. Nada. Absolutely not. Vampires were vampires, and the only acceptable way to deal with them was to stake them.

The vampire chuckled again, presumably at their expression. They pressed a kiss to the hunter's throat, above their jugular. The hunter's breath hitched anew.

"God, you're so angry and so hurt," the vampire said. "I want to eat your heart. You're gorgeous. You can cry again if you like, I won't mind. I won't judge."

Vampires, their parents always said, craved life. It was why they were found so often in bars, or fairgrounds, or the other high points of the night. It wasn't just hunting. They were drawn to the sound, and the vibrancy, like ravenous ghosts clawing at the wounds of the world.

Somehow, it made the hunter feel less pathetic. For all those chuckles, it felt a bit like power. They could only imagine what their parents would say to that. No doubt they would berate the hunter for their unforgivable stupidity, because vampires killed hunters and hunters killed vampires and if the fairground was actually a travelling coven then -

"Do you want to kiss me?" the hunter asked.

"Yeah."

"That's embarrassing for you."

The vampire scoffed.

"And crying alone in a funhouse over some boy who doesn't even know vampires exist is cool?"

"I thought you weren't judging."

"Vampires are all shameless liars. Didn't your parents teach you that?"

Despite themselves, the hunter snorted.

"It's because you're not normal," the vampire said, in a different voice. Quieter. Suddenly serious. "Not like them. Can't do the things they do, because you're too busy stuck trying to slaughter the likes of me. Eddie's normal. Safe."

The hunter swallowed.

"Yeah."

"Yeah," the vampire echoed once more.

The vampire kissed them then, or maybe it was the hunter that started it, but it was clumsy and shockingly gentle and good and definitely the dumbest thing that the hunter had ever done. But they weren't thinking about Eddie anymore. It was impossible to think about Eddie with that cold perfect mouth and the adrenaline searing heat through the hunter's body. Every instinct in their body screamed danger and it was the most glorious distraction from heartbreak.

Their body arched against the glass, pressing foolishly closer.

They were left panting.

Then the vampire kissed them again, and it was a little less clumsy, more claiming, like the vampire was learning how to do it. Like maybe they'd never kissed anyone either. Like maybe they really were seventeen, and had thought their life would all work out differently.

"Next time," the vampire said, and nipped their lip just enough to draw blood. "Don't turn around. I've gotta go."

They shoved the hunter away, and - the hunter wasn't sure if they were left alone with the empty reflections, because they didn't turn. They looked at themselves, all dark eyes and hurt and confusion, in the glass.

All hunger.

They smiled, wiping their own blood from their lip.

They did look hot, actually.

For at least a moment, they walked out of the hall of mirrors feeling better than before.

[capquinn]

quinn would be soo caring and patient during your pregnancy like never getting upset when mood swings occur because he knows how much of an experience pregnancy can be

i fear i'm genuinely in love with my quinn, guys. like it’s bad 😭😭 no man is ever gonna compare to this

You feel it bubbling up before it even happens — the frustration, the inexplicable annoyance, the sudden, irrational urge to cry for absolutely no reason at all. You can’t even pinpoint what’s set you off.

Maybe it’s the sound of the spoon clinking against the bowl as Quinn rinses it in the sink. Maybe it’s the way he’s standing there, completely unbothered while you’re simmering, his broad back turned as he hums under his breath, so at ease when you feel anything but. Maybe it’s just him, existing, breathing, not reading your mind.

And when he glances over, all soft eyes and casual concern, and asks, “you okay, sweetheart?” — you snap.

"Do I look okay?” you bite, crossing your arms, tension coiled tight in your shoulders.

Quinn blinks. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t huff or roll his eyes, just pauses — tea towel in hand, brow furrowing like he’s flipping through a mental checklist of things he might’ve done wrong. He’s scanning your face, looking for an answer, and it makes you even more annoyed because there is none.

You exhale sharply, pressing your fingers into your temples.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you mumble, already feeling the heat crawl up your throat. “I just —”

The frustration builds, your breath catching, and Quinn is already moving.

"Hey," he murmurs, closing the space between you, voice gentle but steady. He doesn’t touch you yet, just keeps his voice low and sure, like he’s smoothing over the edges. "What’s going on?"

You shake your head, throat tight. “I don’t know.”

And that should be frustrating, should be confusing, but Quinn just nods.

"Alright," he says simply. "You want to sit down? Maybe drink some water?"

You glare at him. “I don’t need water, Quinn.”

“Okay,” he agrees easily, tipping his head, completely unfazed. “You want me to sit with you? Rub your feet?”

You let out a watery laugh, because of course that’s his response. Not irritated, not defensive — just quiet patience, just Quinn. He’s so steady, so calm, and it makes the knot in your chest snap. Your eyes burn, and before you can stop yourself, a tear betrays you, slipping down your cheek.

“Oh, baby,” Quinn murmurs, warm and soft, already cupping your jaw, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “Talk to me.”

You sniff, gripping the front of his hoodie. “I was mean to you just now.”

His lips twitch like he wants to laugh but knows better. “No, you weren’t.”

You were, but okay.

You let out a long sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest. “I just feel off. And I don’t know why. And it’s so stupid.”

Quinn exhales against your hair, his hands smoothing slow circles across your back.

“It’s not stupid,” he says, voice firm, certain. “You’re growing a whole human. Our human. You get to feel however you need to feel.”

And God, that just makes you cry harder. A fresh wave hits before you can even try to stop it, a tiny, broken noise slipping out as your shoulders shake. It’s ridiculous, you know it is, but the way he says it — "our human" — it’s too much. Too soft, too full of love, too Quinn.

He chuckles softly, not unkind, just fond, tipping your chin up so he can brush his sleeve across your damp cheeks. His thumb lingers, smoothing over your skin, and he smiles, dimples and all, like he’s got all the time in the world for this, for you.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, letting it linger, smiling against your skin. “Saw that coming.”

“You’re laughing at me,” you grumble, lips wobbly.

“I’m not,” he says, even as his smile grows. “I just —” He shakes his head, presses a kiss to your forehead. “I just love you, that’s all.”

You sigh again, letting yourself sink into him, pressing your face into his chest. “Even when I’m mean to you?”

His arms tighten, hands spreading wide against your back.

“Even then.” A pause. “…But you’re never mean to me.”

You lift your head, narrowing your eyes.

“Quinn.”

His mouth twitches. “What?”

“You liar.”

His grin grows, shameless and affectionate, and he steals another kiss against your temple before murmuring, “c’mon, baby, let's sit down. Let me take care of you.”

[comatosebunny09]

quickie | sylus

summary: you don't know what's amiss. but you're plucking the wine glass from his hand without thinking, setting it atop the coffee table with a soft clink alongside yours. smile pretty, leaning in all slow for a taste of his lips. warnings: smut, alcohol, female anatomy described, fwb (?), oral, unprotected p-in-v, reader has hair, fluids, cervix fxcking, dirty talk, praise, size kink, light choking notes: i'm sorry. ovulation week continues. thank you for reading this. ❤️❤️❤️

It starts off pretty tame.

With two friends seated on a couch in your living room, sharing wine, laughter, and stories of past missions gone awry. 

He has your feet in his lap, massaging them. Can't keep his eyes off you, the firelight from the mantle flickering over your visage, adding to the romance of it all. 

He's smoothing his hands up and down your leg. Grows bolder with each pass over your thigh, kneading the flesh until it craters. Smirks in that way that bleeds sex when you catch him, not at all ashamed or shrouding his intentions.

The mood shifts, the air charged with something heavy. You don't know what's amiss. Maybe it's the alcohol coloring your veins, emboldening you. But you pluck the wine glass from his hand, setting it atop the coffee table with a soft clink alongside yours. Smile pretty, leaning in all slow to sample the taste of his lips.

He encourages you. Tenderly cups the nape of your neck, sighing hot into your mouth. You move like two lovers entangled in a waltz. It's as natural as day sliding into night, and red wine tastes much better when it comes from him.

You grow more confident in your approach, easing your hand down the rigid pane of his body as you push your tongue into his sweltering mouth. He groans something hoarse. Croaky like the crackle of a fire, drawing you closer with an arm snaked around your waist.

You don’t relinquish the seal of your mouths as he tugs you onto his lap. The kiss grows more heated. Tongues twining, teeth gnashing. There’s a hand fisted in your hair. His chest heaves with unrestrained desire. Palms roam to your waist as you shallowly grind against him, his arousal making itself known between your legs.

With a gruff chuckle, he fastens you to him with one hand. Eases you both off the couch to the floor where you straddle him, pulling away from his mouth to stipple his jaw and throat with kisses. 

He sighs, craning his neck back. Chuckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing against your lips. You nip at his carotid, fingers making easy work of the fastenings to his dress shirt. He feels so good, all hot and pliant like this, palms molded to your ass, coaxing you to undulate your hips against him. 

You peel back, and he follows your cue, maneuvering your bodies until he’s lying back on his elbows. Watches you through hooded, expectant eyes, his once carefully coiffed hair falling down to frame his cheeks.

You’re devious. Slide down the sprawl of his body, kissing, sucking. You nip his pecs, drawing the prettiest sounds from him. Lick his nipple into your mouth, and he bucks against you on instinct, losing himself to the hot draw of your mouth. 

You pay his other nipple the same homage. Trail love bites down his torso, sampling the salty tang of his abs as you lick between the dips and grooves down to his navel. He chuckles, ticklish, propped on one elbow whilst using his other hand to smooth some hair away from your face.

You’re at his waist now, and you lock eyes as you press your cheek against his clothed cock. Nuzzle it like a needy kitten, and he watches you with his eyes sliding into a lustful shade of burgundy. His palm frames your jaw, and he thumbs your bottom lip, smearing your lip gloss and drawing your mouth open. 

He wordlessly gives you his consent. Lets you unravel the buckles, buttons, and zipper of his slacks without contest. Lifts his hips, helping you slide his pants and briefs down, just enough for his cock to spring free and bounce against his abdominals.

Saliva puddles in your cheeks. The head shines with a pretty bead of pre, and the warm, musky scent he exudes is so inherently Sylus. His mouth curls around a silent ‘o’ when you test the waters. Lick languidly up the underside of his shaft towards his mushroomed head, and he pulsates so nicely against your tongue. 

Quietly, you maneuver yourself into a more comfortable position between his legs once you’ve slid his pants off his ankles. You grab him at his base, licking the briny pre-spend into your mouth. Dip your tongue into his slit for another taste. He shudders, and a hand instinctively eases into the hair at the crown of your head. You giggle something innocent, thinking he’s just the cutest thing.

His gaze reads, ‘Don’t tease me’ before you take him into the torrid cavern of your mouth. Suck the throbbing head first before gradually sinking him deeper inside, loving the familiar pulse of forked veins in your mouth. You stroke the flesh where your mouth can’t reach with your hand because he’s massive and thick.

He tempers the pace of your sucking. Ruts into the tight squeeze of your throat, occasionally holding your head in place so you can agitate your gag reflexes. And you choke so nicely for him, coughing around his girth until spit and pre-spend bubble at the base of his dick. 

“So good,” he commends through pursed, spit-slicked lips. “So fucking good. You take me so deep, sweetheart. Mm, just like that.”

His praise is music to your ears. Makes your pussy throb, and you’re reaching between your legs to assuage the pulse of your clit as he fucks your mouth in earnest. 

His moans grow sparse as time passes. Hips roll like waves kissing the shore, and you know by the tightening of his muscles that he’s close. You’re about to finish him off with a flex of your tonsils, but he has a fistful of your hair, pulling your mouth off him with a lewd pop.

Globs of saliva connect your mouth to his cock, and you inhale like surfacing from a pool, a drunken, fucked-out swirl to your eyes. 

He bites his bottom lip. Taps his weighted dick against your tongue, groaning low and throaty at the sight.

“C’mere,” he croons. And without missing a beat, you climb up to straddle him once more like the obedient little thing you are. 

He rucks your panties to one side, exposing your leaking cunt and swollen labia. You roost your hands on his chest to steady yourself. Grind experimentally against his shaft, the sensation on your clit making your body pulse and your head fly back.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. Traps one of your nipples between his fingers through the thin layer of your dress while his other thumb brushes through your folds. He curls a palm around your nape, snatching you down for a kiss that’s sloppy and briny with the tang of his pre-cum. 

He grips your thigh to widen your legs. Rolls his hips until the head of his dick teases the sticky, slutty pucker of your pussy. You moan into his mouth, his thumb pushing against your larynx as he tempts you with the prospect of choking you.

“Wanna fuck me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You nod all too quickly, and he huffs a laugh, spreading your ass cheeks until your pussy squelches with his cockhead fully sucked into the warm clench of your cunt. 

You groan in tandem at the union of your bodies, his voice strained with the effort of entering you. 

He sinks into you with shallow, sticky thrusts until he’s all the way in, kissing the crown of your cervix with the head of his dick. You lean back with your hands perched his knees, bouncing on his lap once you’re acquainted with his size. He meets you halfway, fingers clasped around your ankles, and he fucks up into you until a viscous cream of your nectar adorns his base.

“Take me, baby. Take me,” he dotes, entranced by the sight of you riding him so effortlessly.

The sound of skin meeting skin and heated sighs stain the air. He grits his teeth while you ride him. Loses himself to the hot suction of your pussy. To the way your tits bounce once he’s tugged the neckline of your dress beneath them and the sinful noises you make. 

He reaches up gradually to shove his thumb in your mouth. Your tongue curls around it, and you peer down at him through heavy lids, loving the way he feels stroking in and out. He’s such a pretty mess, that carefully constructed composure he usually boasts thrown to hell. Given all to you, only to you.

You’ve lost sense of time. Not sure how long you’ve been at this, fucking like two beasts in heat. The telltale throbbing of his cock lets you know that he’s close. And you dredge a bitten-off sound from his chest when you constrict your walls around him, quickening his descent into madness.

He leans up on his elbows. Closes a hand around your throat and squeezes. Mouth hinges open, his scarlet eyes swimming through syrup.

“I’m gonna…fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, spurring you onward as you fuck him faster, your pussy hiccupping with the threat of your own release.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” he breathlessly chants, the tendons in his jaw flexing.

He suddenly grows quiet. Angles his head back, and he shudders as you drag his orgasm from him. He paints the channel of your sex with hot spurts of cum. So much that it leaks down the sides of his dick, puddling in the neat patch of hair bordering it. 

He pumps into you until he’s overstimulated and you’ve thoroughly milked him. He tugs you down into a lazy kiss when he seeps back into his skin. Thumbs your nipples, softening inside you.

Sylus is a considerate lover. He knows you’ve yet to reach your peak, so he keeps your lips sealed to his while he plays with your clit. Pinches, rubs, pulls. Swallows your moans, stroking and thumbing until you’re pulsing and throbbing and quaking around his dick with your release.

You share a laugh like two enthralled lovers as you curl into him, his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. He soothingly combs through your hair as the firelight dances over your intertwined bodies, whispering the sweetest things into the night like you both aren’t a sticky, sweaty mess of limbs and sin.

[cherrysweets-world]

Invidia

masterlist - part two

Pairing - unrequited Geta x caracalla’s wife!Reader, Caracalla x fem!Reader

Summary- Geta wants what he can't have - his brother's wife.

Warnings - minors dni, intense pining, sexual contact, concubines, brief sex, unedited, can be read as a standalone

Word Count - 1.2k

Geta loved his brother. He knew this. Sometimes Caracalla even knew it too. However, as of late, it had been hard to remember.

The room was crowded and the air was hot and heavy. Some noble was in front of Geta, discussing some plan or other. Normally Geta at least tried to stay engaged, but tonight it was particularly difficult.

Caracalla was having no trouble staying preoccupied. No-one dared even approach his brother, lest they break his good mood. A mood brought on by his delightful new wife, who was currently sat square in Caracalla's lap.

It was unusual for noble women to engage in such openly intimate behaviour. Caracalla's happiness was so rare, though, that they didn't even look twice. If you could keep the young Emperor distracted and engaged in less blood thirsty pursuits then who were they to judge? It had been a peaceful month because of you and Geta could tell everyone, from the servants to counsel men to himself, was grateful for it.

Grateful and bitter, he thought to himself. It was not so long ago that he thought he was the fortunate one. Caracalla had always been resentful that he had been betrothed to a woman when Geta was free to choose for himself. Geta had privately agreed and had thought that he might never marry. It was perhaps the one duty that his brother had taken on so he would not have to.

His sister-in-law laughed loudly, leaning into Caracalla to whisper some secret thing to him. Geta's ears burned and he found himself leaning further toward them, as though he might hear what you had to say.

Caracalla responded with a raspy giggle, hands busying themselves on your thighs. There was nothing sexual about it, really. Just close intimacy, unlike anything either of them had shared with anyone before. Geta squeezed his hands tight, imagining what it would feel like to trace those very same patterns as Caracalla.

He could take it no more. "Senator, please, you must enjoy yourself," he tried to grin, "Rome has earned herself a break, has she not? Please, taste the wine, the food. Perhaps the women?"

The senator gave a full laugh. "Perhaps, Emperor Geta, perhaps."

Geta got to his feet immediately. The senator had hardly had the chance to turn around before Geta was across the room and standing before his brother and you.

"Geta," you said, surprised, "we were just thinking of rescuing you."

Caracalla gave him a look that said he was very much not planning to do that. "My wife is very thoughtful, is she not?"

"She is," Geta responded, hoping for nonchalance. "She is also the Empress of Rome. Do you think it is wise to be groping her like that so publicly? She is not one of your whores."

"Oh, I do not mind," you dismissed his concern, "they all know who I am. And it soothes my Emperor to have me so close."

"It does," Caracalla confirmed. "I cannot say you bring me the same joy, brother. I'm sure there are many others who would love to entertain you."

Geta's jaw worked as he considered this. There was no playfulness in his brother's eyes, he was serious. It was off putting to see him so lucid. How was this fair? Geta was the one who worked hardest to rule over Rome and her subjects. He was the Emperor people came to with their questions and simpering proposals. So why had his brother been blessed with a woman such as you?

He knew he should be more grateful. Caracalla had not had a serious episode since the night he met you. When he did have one it was quickly ended by you. In general he had become much more reasonable and everyone was all the happier for it.

Caracalla seemed especially aware of the blessing the Gods had granted him. He did not find Geta's interest in his wife amusing.

Caracalla did not even know the half of it. Geta had been yearning for you since the night you met. You had caught them both at a vulnerable moment and had comforted them when no one else had or could. How could he not want to be around you? He saw the contentedness you brought his brother and could not help but want that for himself.

Sometimes, at night, when he knew the pair of you were enjoying yourselves together, his thoughts turned a dark path. Caracalla had only been married to you for a month - it was not too late to annul the marriage and take you for himself. Darker still, he thought about sending Caracalla far, far away and telling you that he had died. You would turn to Geta for comfort and -

"Geta," you interrupted his thoughts, "are you well? You seem distracted."

"You are most kind, my sister-in-law," he smiled wearily, "I am. . .tired. I will retire early."

You opened your mouth as if to say something more but Caracalla leaned close, nuzzling your neck and tickling a giggle from you. It was shameful how hard the sound made Geta's cock and he almost grabbed it, right there in front of everyone.

Caracalla stared at him from your neck, blue eyes watchful and knowing. Although he was angry at Geta's wanting, part of him was also satisfied to have something that was finally his and his alone. Even better than it was you.

"We shall retire too," Caracalla said, hands coming up to cup your waist and graze the bottom of your breasts. He was making it no secret exactly what the pair of you would be getting up to and white hot jealousy almost skewered Geta to the spot. He wanted to tear you from his brother's arms but he was well aware had no right.

It was a terrible though, but sometimes Geta wished his brother was sicker again. Maybe then you would have come to him more often, or he would have been able to steal you away without his brother's unusually watchful eye. Something about you made him better, though, more alert. Geta did not want to think of what Caracalla might do if you were taken from him.

Geta stared longingly at the side of your face. You did not look back. Of course you did not. You had no interest in a man who was not your husband, who was not Caracalla. You were a good woman and would never think twice about another man. Geta admired this quality whilst equally resenting it.

He bid you both tonight and turned on his heel, dodging various people on the way out. He selected a concubine, a girl who, if he squinted, almost looked like you and retreated to his chambers.

He fucked her with her face turned into his bedding, imagining it was his brother's wife wrapped around his cock instead. Geta imagined what it would be like if he had been the one to marry you. If he was the one to occupy all your thoughts and attention.

It could be different with you, he thought. Maybe he would be gentle for once. You likely would be. Then again he had seen you flirting with Caracalla and you were not shy. Geta would have to take his time, savour the skin on skin contact with you, savour your noises and looks. It would be unlike how it was with his concubines because it would be you and he had never wanted anything quite so badly. It was to these thoughts that he came.

Still, these fantasies were not enough. He had to know.

Author’s Note - he’s too horny. I think this needs a part two, what do you think?

dividers by @enchanthing

[httpuckdrop]

boyfriend? – ws2

will gets possessive (jealous) when seeing you with other guys.

pairing: will smith x friend!reader

genre: fluff, college!au

word count: 760

warnings: mentions of alcohol

author's note: been in SUCH a will mood recently, it's not even funny. he's just so !!!! it's not my fault actually :( anyways have this little blurb, hope u enjoy <3

read part 2 here!

will hates this.

he doesn't hate parties per se, just this specific one. he does think the party is good; the music is great, a lot of his friends are here, not too calm yet not too crazy. but he hates it mainly because no matter what he does, what room of the apartment he moves into or what classmate he chats to, he always ends up catching you in the corner of his eye.

looking at you is definitely not something will dislikes – on the contrary, he could spend the rest of his life staring at you without feeling bored for even a second. that's how beautiful you are to him.

but seeing you get flirted with and seeing people exploit the fact that you've had more than your share of the drinks table? he hates that.

he tries to handle it by moving along, finding new groups to join and new subjects to talk about to get his mind off you. cool, the school's football team won yesterday; oh yeah, that physics professor seems insane; did you watch that new movie?

it works for a while, but he eventually finds his eyes wandering off to you in every room. you're just that radiant, attracting his attention without even trying. that fact is something he's okay with, and he supposed he'll just have to get used to seeing you with other guys every once in a while, even if it's terribly painful.

but when that stupid football jock you've been talking to for the last fifteen minutes places his hand on your ass as he leans in to whisper in your ear – has he no shame? will asks himself – will has had enough.

in just a few quick strides, he has made it over to you, and his left arm drapes across your shoulders instantly. "there you are, baby," he says, leaning down to press a fleeting kiss to your temple. "been looking all over for you."

the guy takes a step back instinctively, his eyes narrowing at the sight. it takes a moment for you to realize what's happening, but when your head turns toward will, your entire face lights up. "william!" you exclaim, arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him in for a hug. he flinches at the full name – you're even drunker than he thought – but he relaxes once you're in his arms instead of that guy's.

"who are you?"

will looks back to the man you were talking to earlier. "oh, shit- i'm sorry, rude of me not to introduce myself." he holds out his right hand, his other one falling down your waist. "i'm will. nice to meet you, man."

the other guy reluctantly shakes will's hand, frowning slightly. "you two a thing or something?"

will leans the side of his head against the top of yours. "girlfriend and boyfriend for almost two years now."

your eyes widen at this, jaw dropping with a gasp. "boyfriend?" you ask. "you're my boyfriend?"

he chuckles, hoping he doesn't sound as nervous as he feels, but nods. "i think you-" he accentuates the word with a tap to your nose. "-have had a little too much to drink if you don't remember me."

the other guy leaves the scene looking a little nauseous, and will can finally relax a little. you, however, seem to not notice anything going on around you, still focused on his touch on your nose several moments later. "too much? no, i'm not even tipsy..."

"sure you aren't." will's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it as he starts walking out of the room. "come on, let's go back to the dorm."

"what dorm?" you ask, yet you reluctantly walk after him.

"your dorm."

once you reach the front door, he rummages through the millions of coats hanging on the wall before finding yours. he hangs it over your shoulders, trying his best to ignore the pout on your lips. "i wasn't done in there." you tilt your head to the side. "why are you forcing me out?"

"i'm taking care of you," he corrects.

"same thing." he lets go of your hand and your eyes follow his movements when he puts on his own jacket, already missing his warmth on your skin. "why?"

he shrugs. "boyfriend duties, i guess."

you step out into the cold together, and the fresh air helps you begin to come to your senses. yet, you find yourself mumbling, "if you're actually my boyfriend, you should kiss me. on the lips."

oh, how badly he wishes he could.

"another time, baby."

[gingerrgen]

game

gf!Ellie x f!reader

📝: Ellie and you are gf's and everything was good on your relationship or that's what you thought until Ellie brought up this funny game

tw: smuuuut. fluff also! pet names. sexual games. oral (both parties). sex.

this is based on this poll!

Ellie and you had a perfect relationship, communication between the two of you was amazing, love languages were compatible and of course, the sex between you two was amazing; or that's what you thought

One day you were on the couch reading your romance book when Ellie sits beside you, you didn't pay too much attention to it until Ellie spoke

"Babe" she calls you which makes your eyes go from your book to her, "what's up?" you ask her closing the book in your hands, she sounded somewhat serious which made you concern. Ellie shifts in the couch as she was finding the words, you just stared at her waiting for her to say something

"I think we should experiment more...in bed" she said in a low voice making your eyes widen a bit, you swallow trying to think what to say "experiment more...?" she nods at your question "I love you and the sex of course, but sometimes I feel like we should try more, you get me?", her words making you a little confused

You and Ellie since the beginning of your relationship started exploring intimacy more and more, and you certainly thought you two were good with it, now she's making you overthink if you're not good enough at it, and she can tell by the change in your expression

"Babe I'm not saying I don't enjoy it...I just feel like we should try something new, spice things up a little" in which you nod understanding what she meant, "what do you want to do?" you ask her, she just give you a wicked grin "let's play a game I saw on TikTok" "okay"

___________________

Ellie proposes a game called "bedroom bingo" a game you've never heard before

"What is it bout?" you ask her in genuine curiosity, she shows you the card

"In a night, we have to complete most of this card, if not all of it. As far as our stamina goes. What do you think?" her words making a slight blush creep up on your face, you nod in acknowledgement , she can see your excitement about trying this

The two of you go to bedroom of your apartment, you sit down on the edge of the bed as she goes to the nightstand grabbing a small candle and turning it on to set the mood a little "you're so cheesy" you tell her as you giggle watching her, she just chuckles at your comment, then moving closer to you pushing you a little further into the bed. She places herself on top of you "are you sure you can handle this babe?" she asks you with a soft smile on her face as she starts to kiss your jaw and neck, "I am Ells" she grins at your answer "good girl..."

Ellie starts to kiss your jaw going down your neck, her soft hands slipping under your shirt finding you boobs, her actions making you whimper softly and whine for her touch. She loves when you get all needy and whiny, she pulls your shirt over your head revealing your exposed skin to her, her gaze going to your bra "oh you're wearing my favorite one...cute, but it most go" she says before unclipping it with ease just with one hand

The cold breeze of the night making you shiver, she enjoys every second of this

"We should start doing on of the things of the board don't you think?" you start to pick up on her pace and her thoughts "game on Ells"

the first thing you decided to do from the board was "oral" and so she pleases you with it

Your pants long gone now, so as your matching panties, her large fingers pumping in and out your wet pussy, her tongue all over your slick flickering over your sensitive clit making your body jolt and squirm "Jesus Ellie- I'm loosing my mind" you say as her fingers curl inside you making sure they're as deep as possible, giving you the pleasure you deserve

"You taste so good, beautiful" the sound of her voice sending vibrations to your pussy, her fingers working magic on you as you feel so close to your orgasm "Ellie just like that fuuuuck" you moan loudly, Ellie's pussy damping even more at the sound of your beautiful voice, her pace quickens as she drags you to your orgasm, back arching and your hand gripping her brunette hair, she loves every movement and sound you do; her green hazel eyes looking at your face as you release

She pulls away from your pussy taking her fingers out "you really know how to pull a show for a woman don't you, sweetie?" her praising words making your head spin. "Well we can mark that one out the board. Now what else huh?" you sit down at her words, "it's your turn to enjoy, don't you think?" you say in a slurry voice

She grins at your words, she positions herself facing you, her legs intertwined with yours, her pussy rubbing against yours making both of you a moaning mess. Her hips rocking on you as if it's the end of the world, her hardened clit against yours mixing juices

"Ells...I'm so close- shit" you say turning your head back in pleasure. She groans and hisses at the sight of you in front of her, in this situation. No matter how many times she's seen you like this, she's so in love with you she could never get tired of watching you come undone in her arms

She fastens her pace as both of you are close to the orgasm "fuck fuck fuck" Ellie says as she feels it so close in her core, after a couple seconds of her rough movements she comes all over your pussy, you do too whining and moaning so loud the whole building could hear you

The night is young and that damn bingo board was going to be completed by the end of it

________________________________

a/n: Hollyyyy, I think this is good enough babes 🙊🐞

[cherryshortycake]

Summary: Bakugou and you always had a secret thing no one knew, even between you two. Until at the reunion party.

A/N: This takes place after the Mha time skip, and my requests are open, I'm doing only Bakugou requests at this time thank you for reading!

"It’s been a long time since Class 1-A graduated" you thought to yourself. A reunion party for everyone. The room was alive with chatter, the clink of glasses, and the music playing just loud enough to set the mood without overwhelming the conversation.

All grown up, and they were spread out across the room, laughing and reminiscing about the old days. But you couldn’t focus on any of that. Not with him standing across the room, his back to the wall, arms crossed, scowling at everyone like he always did. Bakugou Katsuki, the one person who had occupied your thoughts for years, even when you tried your best to hide it.

You remember the first time you met him. High school felt like forever ago now, and those overwhelming, youthful crushes seemed almost ridiculous in hindsight, but not with him. Not with him.

The guy who had been impossible to get along with. The one who had a temper and was too damn proud to show any weakness. And yet, somehow, that pride had been… different with you. It had started out so small. The way he always snapped at you in class when you'd try to ask him about something—like that time when you tripped over your own feet and managed to knock over a pile of papers right in front of him. He didn’t offer a hand or a “you okay?” like anyone else would. Instead, he just shot you a glare and muttered a "dumbass," but there was something in his eyes that made your heart skip.

Maybe that was the first time you noticed—how he’d look at you differently than he did with anyone else. "Y/N," someone called from beside you, pulling you from your thoughts. It was Mina, grinning as she sipped from her drink. "You look like you’re miles away. Come on, let’s mingle! It’s a party!" You flashed her a smile and nodded, trying to shake off the fluttering in your chest.

But you didn’t move. Not right away. Your eyes landed on Bakugou again, and this time, his gaze flicked to yours for the briefest second. He didn’t scowl. He didn’t sneer. He didn’t even look annoyed. In fact, it was almost… gentle? No, not gentle—but soft....

Your heart thudded louder as the realization hit. Katsuki, the loud, brash, stubborn hero-in-training who’d never given you the time of day in high school, had grown up too. And somehow, without you realizing it, so had the way he looked at you.

"Hey." A voice interrupted your thoughts, and you turned to see Kirishima grinning at you, a glass in hand. "You good?"

"Yeah, just… thinking," you murmured, forcing a smile. "About him..?" Kirishima asked, giving you a knowing look. His eyes flickered over to Bakugou, who was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, but now his jaw was clenched.

You blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly, avoiding Kirishima’s gaze. “Right,” Kirishima teased. “Well, just so you know, Bakugou’s been a little… different lately. Around you, I mean..... or man, whenever your names brung up...”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began, tapping his glass, “you know how Bakugou is. He’s not exactly the type to… open up, right?” You nodded, biting your lip. That was an understatement.

“Well, lately he’s been a little more patient with you. Not like with the rest of us,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “He gets all… quiet when you’re around, like he’s thinking about something. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he actually listens when you talk.” Your face heated, and you shook your head.

“Yeah right...” you said in disbelief with tad of sarcasm.

“I’m telling you. The guy might be a walking time bomb, but he’s got a soft spot for you. Don’t let that pass you by, alright, trust me.. the guy talks about you all the time to me.. like your haunting his mind..?” Kirishima’s words echoed in your mind as you stole another glance at Bakugou.

This time, he wasn’t looking at you—he was looking at the ground, a slight frown on his face. But something was different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it was as if he was waiting. Suddenly, Bakugou pushed off from the wall and started walking toward you. Your heart raced. Was he—?

"hey" he called out gruffly, his voice low but somehow more... familiar. "You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna get a drink?" You blinked, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

"Uh," you stammered, caught off guard. "I’m good. I’m just... talking." He grunted, stepping closer. “Tch. You're always overthinking shit. Let’s get something to drink, already.” There was a slight softness to his tone, one that only you would notice, and it made your stomach do flips.

As the two of you walked toward the kitchen, the room suddenly seemed quieter. It was just the two of you now, separated from the noise of the others. Bakugou was closer than you expected, his shoulder brushing yours as he walked.

His usual harshness seemed muted—he was always a little gentler with you. It wasn’t like he was being kind, but there was something in the way he looked at you now, something that held back all the sharp edges.

“You’ve been acting weird all night,” you said, trying to break the silence. “Shut up,” he muttered, but it was softer than usual. “I’m not the one acting all awkward.”

“I’m not awkward!” you protested. “Yeah, well… you look awkward,” he snapped back, but the way he avoided your gaze told you everything.

There was something in his eyes—something he wasn’t saying. “You’re not mad, are you?” you asked, suddenly unsure. Bakugou’s face twisted into his usual scowl.

“Why the hell would I be mad?” “I don’t know! You’re... different,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You’ve been acting different with me.” His eyes flicked to yours again, a flash of something unreadable passing through them.

Then, without warning, he sighed, looking away. “I’m not acting different, dumbass. I just… don’t wanna deal with your stupid questions tonight.” But you could hear the hesitation in his voice. The slight crack in his usual confidence.

You didn’t say anything more, letting the silence settle between you two, but somehow, in this moment, it felt… easy. Comfortable, even. And maybe, just maybe, Bakugou wasn’t hiding as much as he thought... But y'all didn't know, it's just the beginning......

[shadowcitrine]

If you do That Again--

DarlyxReader 912 words

Warnings: Some language.

Timeline: Not important, season 1-ish

Summary: Daryl is tired of listening to you blowing hair out of your face.

Darly stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw tightening as he glared over his shoulder. “Do tha’ one more time…” His tone is low and threatening, clearly irritated, but there wasn't a reason for it. 

Passing on his left you asked, “What crawled up your ass and died, Dixon?” 

Daryl chewed on the words brewing behind his teeth and marched forward. Why he was pissed off this time was a mystery. Up until now every single one of his demands to be out here with him had been followed to the letter. You'd kept quiet, stayed right on his heels and avoided every single stick you two had come across for at least the last half mile, which for you was a considerable win.

If you'd known he was going to be such an ass you wouldn't have asked to come. With the way he's been acting all day it would have been better to be bored sitting back at camp than deal with the king of grumpy walking buddies. What was worse is his foul mood was starting to rub off on you. Blowing a puff of air upwards you followed the lock of hair flying out of your field of view.

Daryl stopped again this time spinning on his heel. Eyes hard and narrowed, jaw jutting forward he seemed to be sizing you up. The last thing you wanted on this hell hike was to argue but you could see it brewing, unsaid words threatening to burst forward.

“What now?!” You snapped. Quick soured jerks of his head made you feel uneasy, doubly so when his hand went to rest on his knife hilt. The group had warned you about his temper but you'd overlooked that because he was kind of cute when he frowned. 

“All damn day!” He sneered. When you furled your eyebrows in confusion he puffed out his cheeks puffing little breaths between pursed lips. “Fuckin’ sick a’ it!”

“Oh! I'm sorry that the apocalypse didn't come with a thirty pack of elastic hair ties! I can't help the fact that I need to see!”

Daryl shook his head again, fist clenching around the hilt of the blade as he began pulling it out. “Come ‘ere.” He was going to butcher your hair, hack it off just because he was having a shitty day!

“No!” taking a step back away from him you gaped. “I'm gonna let you cut off all my hair!” 

“Ain't cuttin’ your damn hair! Come ‘ere!” he hooked a finger at you. “Gonna stop this shit ‘fore you drive me outta my damn mind.” Daryl is many things but a liar isn't one of then. Taking a cautious step forward ge tucked the blade between his teeth and pulled some string from his pocket. “Tur’ roun’.” 

A tiny gasp left your lips a smile tugging at the corners. “Are you going to do my hair?”

He took the blade from his lips, not an ounce of joy to be read. “Turn ‘round ‘fore I change my mind and saw it off your thick head.” He shoved the string at you. “Hold tha’.” When you didn't move right away he tucked the blade back between his teeth and grabbed your shoulder to spin you around.

He was actually going to do this. No longer facing him you didn't try to tamp down the nerves making goose flesh spreading down your arms. Expecting rough movements for a quick ponytail you were confused when he started sectioning your hair gently freeing tangles from it as he went. 

“Ow!” a sharp pinch at your scalp made you wince.

“Sto’.” The fat syllable sounded wrong in his mouth but you obeyed. He was deft but through fingertips massaging away the sharp pulls of tangles. You hair pulled tight at the back of your head, his actions pulling it backwards causing a strain to keep it upright for a moment. He reached over your shoulder, fingers snapping when you didn't hand him the red piece of dyed twine right away.

Handing it to him you asked, “What did you do to it? Can I see?”

He reached around and used two fingers to guide your face forward again. “Gonna fuck it up if you keep movin’.” Knuckles brushed your upper back, accidental but welcomed and you closed your eyes pretending not to hear the sound of something small snapping. “There! No more listenin’ to you huffin’ and puffin’ all damn day.” He moved away.

“How does it look?” you reached behind touching it, feeling your way down. He'd braided it. There was no stopping the grin that broke out as you pulled the tail over your shoulder to inspect his work. He'd tied off the end tightly finishing the red string with a tiny little bow. “Daryl!” 

“Ain't perfect but it'll hold. Keep it outta your-”

“It's so cute!” Suddenly seeing your inspection wasn't as important as the trees around him. You stepped around him bending to try and catch his eyes. “You even did a bow!” you held the end out for him to see.

“Stop!” the tops of cheeks were pink and while you could pretend it was from the heat you knew that wasn't it.

He started marching away and you ran ahead to try to make him look. “You made it all girly!” you teased. His cheeks were getting redder by the second.

“Stop!”

“Daryl Dixon braided my hair!” you sang out.

“Shut up woman!”

[v6quewrlds]

❝ know no better, m. barzal. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: with your work responsibilities taking you away from long island, you and mat haven't had much time to blow off some steam. his friends, however, are tired of being on the receiving end of mat's "steam" and enlist you to help.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: about half way through the nnn series! i am a diva!mat truther so enjoy. day five of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, oral (male receiving), mat’s a lil grump.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mathew barzal x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.4k.

You looked up from your laptop, your eyes scanning the crowded airport lounge. The clacking of keyboards and murmur of distant conversations created a familiar backdrop to your focused silence. You sighed, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you awaited your flight's boarding call. Your phone buzzed, and you picked it up, expecting to see a message from work reminding you of the deadlines that had kept you in Boston for nearly a month. Instead, you found a text from Ethan Bear.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. You hadn't spoken to Ethan in ages, not since the last time you and Mat had seen him over the summer. 

The message was simple: "Hey, noticed Mat's been on edge lately?" 

You read it again, a hint of confusion creasing your forehead. Of course, you had noticed. Mat's mood swings were like the tides, but you had just chalked it up to the pressure of his season and your demanding work schedule pushing distance between the two of you. 

You typed back, "He makes it hard not to lol he's prob just stressed with the season. Why?"

Ethan's response was swift and to the point. "It's that dumb No Nut November bet. He's losing his shit like a little bitch. Can you fix him?" 

You couldn't help but laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. Mat, your six-foot hockey player of a boyfriend, reduced to a grumpy mess over a bet? It was almost endearing in its ridiculousness. But Ethan's concern was clear, and you knew you couldn't ignore it. 

You replied, "I'll see what I can do," with a winking emoji, feeling less than guilty for the amusement that bubbled up inside you.

As you boarded the plane, you couldn't shake the image of Mat, all six feet of brooding masculinity, brought to his knees by his own stubbornness. You chuckled to yourself, imagining the look on his face when you told him you knew about the bet. The flight back to Long Island was a blur of work emails and half-hearted attempts at relaxing, your mind racing with ideas to tease him into dropping this absurd challenge.

When you finally stepped into your apartment, the tension hit you like a wall. Mat's heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, and you could hear him muttering under his breath. You set down your bag and called out, "Honey, I'm home!" with a playful lilt in your voice.

Mat appeared around the corner, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and annoyance. "Fucking finally," he grumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly in an attempt to suppress a smile.

You rolled your eyes, your amusement clear. "What crawled up your ass?" You stepped closer to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mat sighed, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "You wouldn't understand."

You stepped closer, your curiosity piqued. "Try me."

Mat rolled his eyes, his frustration palpable. "It's just this stupid bet with the guys. I can't believe how much it's messing with my head."

Your smile grew. "Oh, the No Nut November bet? That's what's got you all worked up?" You couldn't resist poking the bear. "You know you can just tell them you can't do it, right?"

Mat's jaw clenched, and he glared at you. "It's not that simple. My pride's on the line."

You chuckled, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Okay, tough guy," you said, your voice gentle and teasing. "But if it's really bothering you, maybe you should just, I don't know, not do it?"

Mat's eyes searched yours for a moment, and you could see the conflict in his gaze. He was torn between his pride and his desire to end the torment. You decided to take matters into your own hands. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I have an idea," you murmured against his skin. "How about I help you relieve some of that tension?"

His eyes widened, and you knew you had his attention. "How?" he asked, his voice gruff with hope.

You stepped closer, your hands sliding down to his chest, your thumbs tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. "How about I give you a little something to take your mind off of it?" you suggested, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. You saw the spark of interest in his eyes and knew you had him in your grasp.

Mat's expression softened slightly, his eyes flickering with curiosity and a hint of desperation. "What are you thinking?" he asked, his tone cautious.

You smirked. "I could give you a reason to lose the bet?" you offered, your voice laced with playful challenge. You watched as the realization dawned on him, and his eyes grew dark with need.

"Did someone set you up to this?" he asked, his voice thick with suspicion, trying to hide his growing excitement.

"Let's just say I have my ways of finding things out," you replied with a wink. You could feel the tension in the room start to ease as Mat's curiosity took over.

Mat looked at you skeptically. "Alright. But if you're just messing with me..."

You giggled, standing on your tiptoe to whisper in his ear, "I'm not messing with you, baby." Your breath was warm and sweet, sending a shiver down his spine. "I want to help."

Mat stared at you for a moment, trying to gauge your seriousness. He was desperate for relief, and the thought of losing the bet was becoming increasingly more appealing by the second. With a huff, he stepped back, his arms crossing over his broad chest. "Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?"

You took a step closer, your eyes never leaving his. "Well, I was thinking..." you trailed off, your hands moving to the hem of his shirt, "maybe I could help you relax." You began to lift his shirt, your hands gliding over his abs, your manicured nails lightly scraping against his skin. "You know, just a little something to take the edge off."

Mat's resolve was crumbling. The feel of your hands on him was too tempting to resist. He let out a gruff chuckle, trying to maintain his tough exterior. "You're really going to do this?"

Your smile grew mischievous as you continued to lift his shirt, exposing his toned stomach. "Mmhmm," you hummed, your eyes flicking up to meet his. "I think it's only fair that if you're going to be a grumpy mess, I get to enjoy the perks of helping you out."

Mat's arms fell to his sides, his eyes locked on yours as you continued to explore his torso with your fingertips. "And what perks would those be?" he asked, his voice low and gruff with anticipation.

Your smile was sly. "Well," you said, your thumbs grazing the waistband of his sweatpants, "I was thinking I could give you a nice, long, slow release."

Mat's eyes darkened, and he took a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss that sent shockwaves through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you gave in to the passion you had been craving for weeks.

The two of you stumbled into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you. You pushed him down onto the bed, your body straddling him. You could feel his heart racing under you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, his muscles taut and his eyes filled with a desperate need that made your own pulse quicken.

Mat's hands found the zipper of your jacket, his fingers fumbling with the fabric as he tried to get it off of you. You laughed and helped him, shrugging out of the jacket and tossing it aside. You leaned in again, your mouth tracing a line of kisses down his neck and chest, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew ragged, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

As you kissed down his body, you felt the tension in Mat's muscles start to unwind. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you knew that you were winning the battle against his pride. With a knowing smile, you began to undo the drawstring of his shorts, your eyes focused on his.

"Missed this pretty, perfect dick," you murmured against the fabric of Mat's shorts, your voice muffled and playful. Mat's body tensed in anticipation as you slowly pulled them down, revealing him to your gaze. You took a moment to admire him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of humor and desire.

Mat groaned, his hands gripping the bed sheets. "You're evil, you know that?"

Your eyes gleamed with victory. "Only when it's for your own good," you teased, your fingertips brushing against his arousal. You watched his reaction, his eyes rolling back slightly, raven hair beautifully contrasting the crisp white sheets.

Mat's hand reached up to tug at your hair, urging you closer. "Just do it," he begged, his voice a mix of frustration and need.

You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pushy," you said, your voice low and soothing. You leaned down, your warm breath fanning across his skin. Mat shivered as you pressed a kiss to the tip, your lips curling into a smug smile at his gasp. You took your time, teasing him with feather-light kisses and gentle strokes, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

Mat's eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth grinding together. "Baby," he ground out, his voice a desperate plea. You conceded and took him into your mouth, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring his taste and the sound of his moans. His hips bucked upwards, and you held him down with a firm hand, keeping the pace at a torturous crawl.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, watching the myriad of emotions playing across his face: surprise, pleasure, and a hint of embarrassment at his loss of control. You took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked gently, and he swore, his hands fisting in the sheets. The salty tang of his sweat mingled with the faint scent of his cologne, and you felt a thrill of power knowing you could bring this strong, confident man to the brink of madness with just your mouth.

Mat's thighs tensed beneath you as you increased your pace, your hand pumping in time with your mouth. His breath grew ragged, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. You took him deeper still, your throat tightening around him, the sensation of his impending climax thrumming through your body.

"Shit," Mat groaned, his voice tight with need. "C’mon, babe, I can't..."

You released him slowly. "You can't what, baby?" you whispered, your voice like velvet against his sensitive skin.

His eyes flew open, and he stared at you, desperation warring with the need to maintain his pride. "I'm gonna come, baby," he warned, his voice strained.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes gleaming. "Mmm, I know," you said, your voice a sweet taunt. With a devilish smile you held his gaze as you stuck your tongue out, a line of saliva connecting your mouth to his glistening cock. Mat's hips jerked upwards involuntarily, his eyes widening with shock and pleasure.

"You're gonna lose that bet," you whispered, your breath warm against his sensitive skin. Mat's jaw clenched, and he nodded, the fight draining out of him. His hand reached for you, guiding you back down to him. "Good boy," you murmured, your mouth enveloping him again.

Mat's hips began to thrust slightly, his movements growing more urgent. You felt a rush of wetness between your legs, your own desire spiking at the sound of his desperate moans. You tightened your grip, your tongue swiping against the underside of his shaft. His hips bucked harder. With one last, deep suck, you felt him pulse in your mouth, the warmth of his release flooding your mouth.

Mat's body went rigid as he came, his breath hitching in his throat. You swallowed, your eyes never leaving his. You licked your lips, savoring the taste of him, and gave his cock one last gentle kiss before sitting back on your heels. You watched him, his chest heaving and eyes glazed over with pleasure.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by your ragged breathing. Then Mat's face contorted into a mix of frustration and relief. "Fuck," he muttered, collapsing back onto the bed. "How bad was I?"

You grinned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Oh, you were pretty bad," you teased, your voice light and playful. "Ethan texted me about it. Said you were being a little bitch."

Mat's face reddened as he buried his face in a pillow, muffling his groan of embarrassment. You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's okay," you said, your voice gentle. "You're my little bitch."

Mat threw the pillow at you, his laughter joining yours. "Fuck off," he said, his voice muffled by the fabric.

You caught the pillow and tossed it aside, your smile widening. "It's all love, baby," you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But seriously, you okay?"

Mat took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I just didn't know it would get to me like this."

Your expression softened, and you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble that had started to form. "No more dumb bets?" you asked, your voice a gentle reprimand.

Mat sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability. "No more dumb bets," he agreed, his voice gruff. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole."

Your smile was warm, your thumb continuing to stroke his cheek. "You should probably apologize to Ethan. Whatever you did to him, it's gotta be bad if he's asking for my help."

Mat chuckled, his irritation fading. "I'll text him later, tell him you talked some sense into me." He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Thank you, baby." He kissed you, the affection in his touch making your heart flutter.

[chrissturnsfav]

rapper!chris being superr clingy when star comes back from recording 🙏🙏

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris being clingy

𝐧𝐨��𝐞𝐬, since i didn't have time to work on a smut prompt tonight, here's something cute from my drafts :)

you barely make it through the front door of chris' house before you kick off your shoes and head straight upstairs. your whole body feels heavy, weighed down by hours in the studio, the same songs looping in your head, your voice worn out from take after take. you just need a shower. maybe food. then sleep.

but the second you step into chris' room, he's on you.

"'bout time, kid," he mutters, pulling you in before you can react. one arm hooks around your waist, the other slides up your back, pressing you into him like he’s trying to fuse you together. he smells like cologne and weed, his skin warm against yours.

"chris," you sigh, barely managing to drop your bag before he’s walking you backward toward the bed.

"what?" chris says, grinning, lips brushing your temple. "missed my girl."

"you saw me this morning," you mumble, voice muffled against his hoodie.

"and? still missed you, mama."

you groan, trying to push him off, but he just drops onto the bed, pulling you down with him so you land half on top of him, half tangled in the sheets.

"chris—" you groan, frowning up at him.

"nah, you ain't goin' nowhere," chris says, locking his arms around you. "you stayin' right here. stop poutin'."

you huff against his hoodie, face being pulled into his chest with one of his hands cradling the back of your head lovingly.

"you smell like the outside," he mutters, lips brushing your jaw.

"yeah, because i was outside," you mumble, starting to squirm in his grip. "chris, let me shower."

"later." his hand slides under your shirt, rubbing slow, lazy circles into your back. "too much work. jus' stay."

you exhale, sinking into him despite yourself. he’s always like this when he gets in these moods—clingy, warm, all handsy, like he needs to make sure you don’t slip through his fingers.

his fingers drag up your spine, slow and absentminded, then dip under the waistband of your leggings. not enough to start anything, hand just resting on your hip gently.

"you actin' all stiff," he murmurs, voice low. "don’t like when you come home all tense 'n stressed. gimme all that, lemme take it."

you shiver but don’t move. he's solid under you, broad and warm, and your body is already betraying you, relaxing in his grip.

"you really don't got shit to say?" he teases with a little cheeky smirk. "for once?"

you groan. "chris."

"there she go," he laughs. "i was 'boutta be real concerned if you didn't start whinin' soon."

you lift your head just to glare at him, but he just smirks, smug as ever like he always does.

"you done?" you ask.

"nah," he says, flipping you onto your back so he can stretch out on top of you instead, arms caging you in. "i'm comfortable now."

"you're so annoying," you huff, giving in with a roll of your eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"yeah, but look at you. givin' in already," he says easily with a snicker, kissing your cheek before dropping his head against your shoulder.

you roll your eyes, but you don't move. you'll admit, you love being in his arms when he gets all clingy like this. hell, he's lucky you're not babying him right now.

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @sturns-mermaid , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @dvinesturn , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13 , @sturniolo101 , @malsmind , @mattsleftball , @softhyunieeee , @whore4mattsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @corspebridedelrey , @softhyunieeee

@chrissturnsfav ™

[m4rv3l-girl]

“You Made a List?” - (Knife Play)

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N made an interesting to-do list, Bucky wants to tick them all off..

Requests Open!

Warnings: Smut. Knife play. Blood.

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed in the quiet apartment he shared with Y/N. The room was a stark contrast to his tumultuous past; white walls, a simple wooden bedframe, and a single framed picture of them together on a shelf. He stared at the floor, his mind racing with the day's events. He had been out on patrol, a routine mission that had ended with him saving a cat from a tree. A small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it brought him back to the comfort of their shared space.

Y/N walked in, her hair still damp from a recent shower, a towel wrapped around her body. She noticed the tension in Bucky's shoulders and the furrow in his brow. "Rough day?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness.

Bucky looked up and offered a forced smile. "It's nothing," he said, not meeting her eyes. He didn't want to burden her with his past, not when they had worked so hard to build their life together. But she knew him too well.

She saw right through the facade and moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Her touch was electric, grounding him in the present. He took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of her hand seep into his skin. "I found something," he began, his voice low and tentative. He reached under the bed and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

Her eyes widened as she recognized her own handwriting. "Oh, that," she said, her cheeks flushing pink. "It's just a little list I made, you know, for fun." The words 'Things to try in the bedroom' were scribbled across the top in a playful scrawl.

“You made a list?” He mused. Scanning the items, his eyebrow raising at each suggestion. "Knife play," he read out loud, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "That's the first one?"

Y/N looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, it's not like we're going to try all of them in one go," she said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "I was just….curious"

Bucky's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt or fear. When he found none, only excitement and trust, he felt his own anxieties dissipate. He had faced worse than knives in his life; this was a game they could play together, safely. "Alright," he said, setting the list on the bed. "But I'm stopping if I think you don’t like it.."

Y/N leaned in, her damp hair leaving a trail of coolness against his cheek as she whispered, "You’ll do it?”

The air grew thick with anticipation as they prepared for their evening adventure. Bucky's heart raced in a way it hadn't in a long time, not from fear or battle, but from the thrill of exploring something new with the woman he loved. As they moved closer, the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of their shared space and the promise of an exciting night ahead.

Bucky pulled out a velvet-covered box from his nightstand, Y/N’s cheeks still flushed. Inside was an impressive assortment of knives, each one meticulously chosen for their varying sizes and shapes. They were not the weapons of war he was accustomed to, but tools of passion - items he had collected for enjoyment not for use in combat.

He picked one out, the metal cool and smooth in his hand. The blade glinted under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement.

He turned to Y/N, who had dried off and donned a silk robe that clung to her curves. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of hesitation. He gave her a reassuring nod, and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she felt the tension in the room shift. He approached her, the knife held delicately between his thumb and forefinger.

Tracing the line of the knife along the edge of her jaw, he watched as her eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

His touch was feather-light, a stark contrast to the cold steel. He moved down her neck, the blade barely grazing her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Each stroke was precise, calculated, as if he were mapping out the landscape of her body with the sharp tip.

Her heart thumped in her chest, the rhythm echoing in her ears. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he whispered, "You're sure?" Y/N nodded, the anticipation building like a crescendo. Bucky continued, the knife moving in a gentle pattern down her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts, her body responding to his every move with a symphony of goosebumps.

With the utmost care, he slipped the knife between her robe and her skin, the cold metal pressing against her hardening nipple, drawing out a soft whimper. He watched her closely, reading her reactions like a book.

When she didn’t flinch, he began to feel more at ease.

He knew he could trust her, and she knew she could trust him. They had been through so much together, and this was just another chapter in their story – one of exploration and growth.

He continued to trace her body with the knife, the sensation both thrilling and terrifying. But with each pass, the fear melted away, leaving only desire in its wake. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that coiled around them, tightening with every shallow breath she took.

Y/N’s eyes remained closed, lost in the sensation of Bucky’s gentle touch. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a dance of control and vulnerability that brought them closer together. The coolness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat building between them, and she felt every inch of her skin come alive.

As the tip of the knife circled her navel, she gasped, the sensation shooting straight to her core.

Bucky paused, looking for her consent. She opened her eyes and met his gaze, nodding again. He continued, the knife gliding over her hips, her stomach, each movement a silent promise of what was to come.

When the tip of the metal finally slipped past her pubic bone, it grazed the sensitive peak of her clit, she inhaled sharply.

The feeling was indescribable, a mix of excitement and trepidation that had her body trembling. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire, as he began to carefully stroke her with the cold blade. The pressure was just right, not too much, but enough to send waves of pleasure rushing through her.

Her knees grew weak, and she reached out to grip the edge of the bed for support. Bucky noticed her reaction, his own arousal spiking at the sight of her vulnerability. He stroked her clit in a slow, deliberate motion, the knife serving as an extension of his touch. The metal was cold against her hot, wet skin, sending shivers through her body that only heightened her sensitivity.

"Sit still," he murmured, his voice gruff with need. "I don't want to hurt you."

Y/N whined softly, her body straining against the delicious torment he was inflicting. The combination of fear and pleasure was intoxicating, a heady cocktail that had her teetering on the edge. She knew Bucky would never harm her, but the thrill of the knife’s serrated edge up against her delicate flesh was undeniable.

Bucky watched her closely, his own need growing with each gasp she made. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, could see the way her nipples pebbled against the silk of her robe. He knew she was close, so he decided to give her what she wanted – a little more. He teased her clit with the blade, moving it in a slow, up and down motion that had her hips bucking and her breath coming in ragged pants.

Her eyes snapped open, and she met his gaze, pleading for more.

He could see the desire in her eyes, the impatience warring with the fear. With a smirk, he flipped the knife in his hand, the handle now pointing upward. He held it out to her, the metal slick with her arousal. "Suck it," he ordered, his voice low and firm.

Y/N took the handle into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his and she moaned around it as she took it deep. Her hands came up to wrap around his wrist, guiding him as she sucked and licked, her tongue swirling around the handle. Bucky's grip tightened, his own excitement growing as he felt her mouth enveloping the knife.

When he was satisfied with her preparation, he slowly removed the handle from her mouth and brought it back down to her clit, now slick with her juices and her own saliva. He teased her again, the wetness from her mouth adding to the sensitivity. She was panting now, her body begging for release.

"Bucky, please," she whimpered, her grip on the bed tightening.

With a wicked smile, he positioned the handle at her entrance, the metal cool and hard against her heat.

Y/N took a sharp breath as Bucky pushed the handle of the knife slowly inside her. It filled her in a way that was both strange and incredibly erotic. She felt stretched, the sensation of cold steel penetrating her, and she knew that he could feel her tightness around it.

Bucky's eyes never left hers as he began to move the handle in and out, his movements deliberate and controlled. The coldness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat of their shared desire, and she could feel her body begin to adapt to the intrusion. It was a delicate dance of pain and pleasure, each thrust bringing her closer to the precipice she desperately sought.

Her breath grew ragged, her moans muffled by the fabric of her robe as she bit down on the material. She could feel the knot in her stomach loosening, the tension building as he fucked her with the handle. His hand was steady, his gaze intense, as if he was watching for any sign that she needed him to stop.

But she didn't.

Instead, she pushed back against him, her body begging for more.

The sound of the knife handle sliding in and out of her filled the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to their harsh breaths. Each thrust was a silent declaration of their love and trust, a testament to the bond they shared. Y/N could feel herself losing control, her hips moving in time with his hand, her body straining for release.

Bucky's eyes never left hers, his pupils dilated with desire. He watched her face contort in pleasure, the way her mouth opened in silent screams, and he knew she was close. He increased his pace, the slickness of her arousal making the handle glide in and out with ease.

She was so wet, so ready for him, and the thought sent a bolt of lust straight to his groin.

With a final, desperate thrust, she shattered around the handle, her orgasm ripping through her body like a supernova. Her nails dug into the bed, her back arched, and she cried out, her voice hoarse and raw. "Such a pretty slut, doll," Bucky murmured, his voice thick with approval. He watched her ride the wave, her body quivering with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Y/N's eyes flew open, meeting his gaze as she came down from her peak.

She felt a flush of pride at his words, her heart racing with a mix of love and lust. He had called her that before, but tonight, it felt different. It was as if he were praising her in the most erotic way for trusting him, for letting go of her inhibitions. She knew he meant it as a term of endearment, a declaration of his admiration for her openness.

Y/N nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement. "Yes, I want-…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "What do you want me to do?"

The words came out before she could even think them through. "Carve your initials into me," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I want to carry a piece of you with me."

Bucky's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt.

When he found none, he took the knife in his hand, his movements deliberate and precise. He leaned over and kissed her softly, his breath mingling with hers. "Where?" he asked roughly, his voice thick with anticipation.

"My thigh," she murmured, pointing to the spot she had chosen. It was a place she could easily hide if needed, but also somewhere she could see every day, a constant reminder of this night.

With a deep breath and a moment of contemplation, Bucky took the knife and pressed the tip to her skin. “Tell me to stop, Doll.” He pleaded feeling a depraved arousal at this.

“Don’t you dare.” She stated.

She felt the pinprick of pain as the metal broke through the surface, a sharp contrast to the gentle kisses he peppered along her neck. He began to trace the first letter, the 'J', his hand steady despite the tremor that had taken hold of his body.

The cut of the knife peircing through her skin was faint but distinct, a testament to his skill and control.

The pain grew more intense as he moved on to the 'B', the sensation of the blade carving through her flesh sending another shockwave of pleasure through her.

She bit her lip, her eyes watering as she watched him, his focus unwavering. When he reached the 'B', she felt the sting of the blade a bit deeper, and she couldn't help but gasp.

Immediately, Bucky's mouth was on the wound, his tongue darting out to lick away the bead of blood that had formed. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent her spiraling into another orgasm. In an unexpected throb of agony and ecstasy, her thigh muscle clenched repeatedly under his ministrations.

He kissed the spot tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers.

As the initials 'J.B.B' began to take shape on her skin, she felt a sense of belonging, a mark of ownership that she craved. She knew that she had just given him a piece of herself, and that he had accepted it, claimed it even, was intoxicating.

When he was done, he pulled away, his eyes searching hers for any signs of regret. But all he saw was a look of pure, unadulterated bliss. He couldn’t believe the trust she had in him, the willingness she had to submit to his desires.

It was a heady feeling, one that made him feel alive in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time.

They sat there for a moment, their bodies entwined, the room silent except for the sound of their ragged breaths. Then, Bucky leaned in and kissed her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. This was their secret, their shared moment of power and passion, and it bound them together in a way that nothing else could.

The night was still young, and they a few long hours ahead of them. But for now, they basked in the afterglow of their first successful experiment, their hearts racing in sync, their bodies craving more. They were a team, united in their love and their desire to explore the boundaries of their relationship.

And as Bucky held her, feeling the pulse of her blood beneath his fingertips, he knew that no matter where the night took them, they would face it together, unshackled by fear or doubt. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

——————————————————————————————————

Part 2 - (Temperature Play)

——————————————————————————————————So, what did you guys think? Your comments really help me to cater my writing to what you enjoy! 🫶