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boypied · 3 days ago

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𝚏𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜...

𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜��𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗�� 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛;

CHARLIE COX x M!READER

MDNI + FDNI, mature content ahead.

WARNINGS: age gap, oral sex (r!giving), cum swallowing, swearing, hair pulling.

SUMMARY: you return to school after leaving so many years ago, and you visit your favourite teacher. one thing led to another, and you're on your knees in the very class that you were taught in.

After a medical emergency a couple of weeks ago, you received a letter in the mail that your medical bills have started to build up, you only know one person who could help you out and try to make these unfairly high bills some how lower and actually manageable and that person is your old high-school teacher who you had a major crush on the entire time, it was obvious to everyone who even thought to pick up on it. Your heart races practically pounding out your chest as you park up at the school and make your way inside.

You walk through the old hallways that you used to walk down every single day only a couple of years ago. It didn't long for you to realise where you want to go... well, it's more like who you wanted to visit. “Afternoon Sir.” You say in a low tone, not wanting to entirely disrupt his class. “Oh! Long time no see...” he chuckles to himself while the rest of the class just stares at him as they are waiting for him to give them the signal that they can leave.

“The class was just finishing up anyway, take a seat... I'll be with you in a moment.” he mumbles to you in his usual calm tone, which strangely sends shivers down your spine and makes your knees weak. You are immediately drawn back into the trance you were in all those years ago when you first had him as your teacher. After Charlie sends his students to lunch, he turns his attention over to you, “So, what brings you back to my classroom, mister?” he smirks as he sits down behind his desk, leaning back to crack his back and his shirt lifts up ever so slightly revealing his happy trail that drives you wild, and you pull up the chair to get closer to him.

“I've been having some trouble with some bills and being overcharged and stuffed... you know, adult stuff... and I was just wondering if you could possibly help me out with that? It's just that I remember that you talked about this in one of our lessons, and you were skilled and stuff.” I start blabbering on about my reasons for even being here as I don't want to come across as a creep that peaked in high school and is desperately trying to relive those moments.

He just smiles at you as you stumble over your words, he leans forward and places his hand on your thigh giving it a slight squeeze, “Of course I'll help you.. you always were my favourite student.” he chuckles as he spins his chair round to face his computer as he starts working on his way to help you out whilst you stare blankly at him as your face reddens.

After a rough forty-five minutes of research, emails and phone calls you finally manage to get through to the hospital and get your bills lowered to a manageable amount that you can pay over a month or two. “Thank you! Thank you so much.” You gasp down the line in relief as you hang up and Charlie celebrates as he throws his fists up in the air, and jumping up to give you a hug but before he could do that you place your hand on his chest and you push him down against his chair without even saying a word you begin unbuckling his belt, “w-what?” he mumbles out in confusion as he watches you do this, his eyes widen as you pull down his trousers as well as his underwear letting his cock spring free

Your eyes dart up to meet with his as you lean down and take his semi-hard cock into the warm wetness of your mouth and the moment that it happens his cock immediately becomes grows in your mouth hitting the back of your throat which causes you to gag slightly. Charlie's head falls back slightly as he feels the warmth of your mouth coat his entire cock, his hand shakily grabs his glasses and he throws it onto his desk which knocks off a bunch of his students papers, you pull off his cock and lean up, “Should I pick those up?” You say softly, and he grips your head and pushes you back down on his cock.

“No! It's fine... just keep sucking. They can all have a B anyway...” he chuckles, which turns into a breathy moan. Charlie's eyes flutter open slightly after being shut from the blissful pleasure that was your mouth around his cock and he sees the time, “F-Fuck! We only have fifteen minutes.” he smirks as he runs his hand through your hair and gives you a helping push you down helping you take more of his cock into your throat. A smirk grows on his face, feeling your throat contract around his length because of how long it's been so long since he's had any sort of sexual encounter with someone in months.

You let his cock pop out of your mouth as you trace kisses along the side of it whilst using your hand to pump it up and down inching him closer and closer to the climax that he's been waiting for. “You taste so good” you mumble out before you take his cock back into your mouth all the way allowing your throat to coat his tip. “I never would've thought an o-old student would be giving me the best blowjob... i-i've ever had...” he rubs his temples whilst laughing, which quickly turns into low grunts.

You wrap your hand around his base as you continue to swirl your tongue around his base and pump his cock to give him the ultimate feeling of pleasure and helping him build up to possibly the best orgasm of his life.

“Keep sucking!” Charlie practically begs you as his eyes flutter back, and his toes curl as he nears his release and his cock is buried deep in your throat. Your hand reaches up and begins gently squeezing away at his balls, and that was enough to completely send him into overdrive as his cock starts squiritng his thick ropes of cum down your throat as he slightly bucks his hips up into your mouth pushing his cock deeper than before, his load just running down.

He pulls on your hair and you throw your head back as his spit glistening cock pops out of your mouth. Your lips are all puffy from the intense blowjob you just gave, and Charlie runs his thumb across your lower lip as he breathes heavily, “Finished with five minutes to spare.” Charlie says in a playful, celebratory tone, which causes you both to laugh.

You help him pull his trousers up and look some-what presentable for his next class. You lick your lower lip, tasting the residue of pre-cum and you just smirk “Tasty” You mumble out with a wink and he just smirks as he grabs your waist and pulls him closer to his body, “Some of my students are probably on their way...” he whispers to you as he grabs his phone and sends you his address.

He leans even closer and whispers right in your ear “The key is under the flower pott... be there in my bedroom, ass up. I'll make sure to right after this class.” he gently places a kiss on your neck and pulls away letting go of your waist, “See you soon, boy.” he says to you as he watches you walk out, “I'll be waiting... Sir.” You say with a wink and he just bites his lip.

taglist ' @starboye @dqrkhold @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @twinkedupman @gaefaeyae @sluttyhusband @sleep-0-deprived @lucerowrites1

#charlie cox #charlie cox x male reader #charlie cox x male reader smut #charlie cox x male reader fluff #gay #x male reader #fanfic #x male y/n #male reader #smut #gay smut #adults fx #adults 2025 #boypied #boypied fanfic

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melobballin · 2 days ago

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residue. juju watkins

✶ warnings ✶ 1.6k ish words count. black!fem reader. +18 minors dni. smut. y’all are so fucking toxic. reader is dumb af for staying. toxic!juju. pussy eating. fingering. tribbing. reader got a smart mouth. flirty!juju. wlw.

SHE SWEARS SHE’LL NOT BE STAYING. Always mumbles it against your neck, as she tugs your shirt up, heart still pumping from whatever argument pushed her back into your arms tonight.

“They’re waiting for me,” she says, hoodie half-off but her hands are already on your thighs, already wanting to lift you like she didn’t ghost you for a week. Like she wasn’t just post up at some party, grinning next to Mariah —who happened to actively hate you.

You don’t say shit. You’ve stopped saying shit. What’s the point when she’s never listening ?

You’ve stopped asking her where she’s been. Stopped hoping the knock meant anything more than what it always did : she needed something she wouldn’t name, and for whatever reason, you were the only one who could give it to her.

Juju always showed up late—smelling like somebody else’s perfume, the taste of liquor on her lips and her hoodie pulled low like guilt can hide her—and you always let her in. Every time. No questions. No judgment. No begging her to stay. Just quiet. Just space. Just you.

Her hands were already on your waist. Already tugging at your shorts like they were in her way. Like she was starving and you were the only thing that’s ever fed her right.

“I missed you,” she said between kisses. “Missed this.”

You laughed bitterly. “Yeah ? You always say that.” You murmured, breath catching as her lips kissed behind your ears.

“I always mean it,” she whispered.

Before you could answer, she was already dropping you onto your bed with that same lazy confidence that’s been driving you insane since freshman year. You hated how easy it was for her. How good she looked in your low lighting. Sweats hanging off her hips. Bra strap peeking from under her tank top. Jaw clenched like she was mad at the world but still needed to melt into you to survive the night.

“To how many girls have you said that tonight ?” You saw her eyes flicker. But she didn’t stop.

Just slid her hand down your stomach, kissed you deeper like she was trying to shut you up with her mouth.

“You know it ain’t like that with them.” She climbed on top without hesitation. One knee between your thighs, one hand at the base of your throat. Just enough pressure to remind you who’s in control. Just enough softness to keep you wanting more.

That’s what she always did. And maybe you were having it.

You looked up at her and said what you always say when you’re trying not to cry before she’s even touched you properly : “You seeing her again?”

Her jaw ticks. “Mariah doesn’t matter.”

“She matters enough to show up on your story.”

Juju leans in, nose brushing yours. Her voice drops low. “You still checking that shit?”

You weren’t dumb. She knows you weren’t. She knew you had seen the likes. The tags. The flashes of her with somebody new, arm slung around some soft-eyed girl who probably thinks she’s different. Who probably hasn’t tasted the part of Juju that comes out when she’s desperate and ruined and whispering “please” against your mouth like you’re the last fucking prayer she has left.

Her hips grind into your pussy slow—too fucking slow for someone who said they were just “stopping by.” She kissed down your chest like she’s worshiping something she was too ashamed to claim in the daylight. Her voice is low and rasped and so familiar when she says your name.

And still, it’s you. Always you.

The one she comes back to.

The one who knows where she likes to be touched without needing to ask.

The one who holds her afterward, even when you swear you won’t.

“I hate you so much for this, ju.” you breathe, tugging at the hairs on the back of her head when she slipped her tongue over your pussy, sucking it slowly.

She groans against your thighs. “Yeah ? but you always let me in though, baby.”

And that’s the thing. You always do. Because no one else makes you fall apart like this.

No one else makes you whisper that soft, dangerous, nasty talk in the dark, when your walls drop and your voice breaks and she holds you like maybe this time, she’ll actually stay.

She moans when she tastes you. Deep and low and possessive.

“Shit,” she breathes, dragging her tongue up your slit like it’s the first time again. “I missed this pussy.”

You arch, grip her curls. “You don’t even deserve it.”

“Don’t gotta,” she mutters, fingers sinking into your cunt slowly. “You still give it to me.”

And maybe that’s the worst part. Maybe it’s that you want to. That no one else gets you like this. That even when she hurts you, her hands are home. Her mouth is poetry. Her body is the only place you ever feel known.

She fucks you slow.

Not gentle—never that. But deep. Deep like she tryna climb inside and live there. Like she knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together just enough to make you let her stay the night.

You come once. Then twice. Legs shaking, voice gone, heart thudding too loud in your ears.

And still she’s not done.

Still she’s kissing your ribs, your stomach, your neck—like you’re the only thing keeping her tethered to this earth.

“I fucking hate you,” you breathe, tears hot in your eyes.

She lifts her head, eyes blown, lips slick and swollen.

“Yeah ?” she whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “But you still love me.”

You choke on a laugh. Or a sob. You don’t even know anymore.

Juju then pulls you on top of her like she needs to feel your weight to believe you’re real. Your knees on either side of her hips. Her hands gripping your thighs. Her eyes not leaving yours.

She guides you down onto her pussy like it’s nothing—like you were always made to sit there.

“Take it, baby,” she murmurs, voice husky. “Let me have you.”

You do. Because you always do.

Because no one makes you feel like like she does. No one looks at you like they need you to survive the night.

Her hands slide up your ass as you move. Slow. Steady. Raw.

Your bodies sticky with sweat and something unspoken.

She leans up to kiss you. This time softer.

And that’s when you feel it—that shift. That tenderness she tries to hide under ego and bravado and too many mistakes.

She kisses you like she knows she fucked up. Like she don’t know how to fix it but she wants to. Like she’s scared to ask you to stay because she knows she doesn’t deserve it.

Her fingers lace with yours.

She lets you ride her pussy slow. Lets you set the pace. Her body trembling under yours. Her voice cracking when she whispers, “No one else feels like you.”

You freeze.

And for a second—just a second—you let yourself believe she means it.

“Say it again,” you whisper.

Juju cups your cheek. “No one else feels like you. Nobody else is you.”

Tears burn your throat again. But you don’t stop.

You keep rocking your hips. Keep holding her close. Keep letting her say shit she never says in the daylight.

“I try to forget you,” she confesses, head tilted back. “I try. I swear I do.”

“Then why are you here juju ?”

“Because I can’t.” Her voice is broken. Honest. “I can’t stay away. I don’t want to want you like this. But I do.”

You kiss her before she can say more. Swallow her words. Pour yourself into her like maybe if you give enough, she’ll stay.

You come again. Louder this time. Shaking in her arms. She follows. Low moans against your skin, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your neck like she’s trying to disappear inside you.

And after ? Like always : it’s quiet.

Just heavy breathing and tangled limbs. Sweat-damp sheets and flickering shadows from the streetlight outside your window.

You don’t ask her to leave.

She doesn’t say she will.

She just holds you. Soft now. Bare now. Her forehead pressed to your shoulder, her fingers drawing circles on your back.

“I wish I knew how to love you right,” she whispers.

And you don’t answer. You just close your eyes.

Because this—this is the only version of her you ever get.

The 2am version. The “I hate myself for needing you” version. The “maybe tomorrow” kind of girl.

And maybe that’s all she’ll ever be.

But tonight? Tonight she’s yours. And you’ll take it.

Even if it breaks you later.

#melobwriting #juju watkins x reader #juju watkins #juju watkins smut #juju watkins x fem!reader #usc trojans #usc wbb #wcbb #wbb #wlw #black!reader

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tessasturns · 2 days ago

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…SIMON MAKING SHY!READER BEG

simon ‘ghost’ riley x shy!reader, begging, teasing, f receiving oral, smut smut smut, protected p in v, aftercare, swearing, pure filth, porn with no big plot, dirty talk, sex in missionary

(masterlist) (nav)

you ached for it, and simon knew that.

you had never really initiated sex with him, not in an unwitting way, you were just shy when it came to that topic.

it usually started with a subtle touch of his arm, then an ‘accidental’ hand brushing over his crotch, and then slowly putting your legs on his lap until he followed through with your tendencies. that’s how it usually was, until simon started catching onto your little game.

he started by taking longer to cave, but now it was him just not giving in.

it was a slow night, the two of you just watching a tim burton movie in the quiet home. no matter how many times you tried to get closer to him, even ‘accidentally’ spilling water on his lap and wiping it up, he didn’t cave. it drove you insane.

“si” you whisper softly, moving your hips to sit on his lap. he still stares straight at the t.v., not moving an inch. “simon!” you whine, blocking his face.

“yes, love?” he smiles like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you. the heat between your legs just grows as you look into his beautiful eyes. you don’t say anything, just give him a pleading look.

“what is it darling?” he smiles, loving every second of your struggle. you just whine, your shyness taking over, and boy does he know it. “please?” you tilt your head, looking up at his face.

“please what?” he furrows his brows like he can’t feel a wet spot growing on his pants from your cunt. “use your words.” he commands, his gruff voice only making your ‘situation’ worse.

“you know… what i want” you say, ever so slightly grinding down on him. you could feel a bulge as you did so, knowing the feelings were mutual.

“i don’t know. is there something i can help you with?” he questions, playing dumb. “please simon… i need you..” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“need me where?” he says, acting clueless. that was your last straw. he knew what you needed, but decided to just be annoying about it.

you grab his hand and guide it down your pyjama shorts, then into your panties. “here.” you say, softly grinding against his fingers. “so what are you asking?” simon said, just being flat out cocky.

“fuck simon! i need you to fuck me! i’ve been trying to make it clear all night but you’re just a jerk-“ you try to finish your rant, but you’re cut short when simon flips you onto your back, pinning you down.

he kisses you, softly at first, but getting more and more hungry. “that’s all you had to say, precious” he smiles, taking his lips down your neck.

he leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone whilst slowly sliding his hand up your shirt.

within a few seconds, simons shirt is off and so are your pants. he’s sat on the floor, in between your legs as he kisses your inner thighs. he teasingly licks small stripes all along your body, only making you more and more impatient.

“simon please” you breathed out. “i need you to just… i don’t know just something!” he chuckled at your pleas.

“atta girl, using your words.” you breathed out another moan as he licked your clit. the sudden touch made you shake slightly, to which he put his hands on your hips.

he continues the motion, making you squirm. he licks up and down your pussy, pace increasing as he does so. his tongue laps in circles over your heat, making you go crazy.

“fuck si… i’m- gonna cum” you exclaim, back arching. you cum all over his face, making a mess of the couch cushion. you breathe out heavily, being worn out.

“shit- thank you simon” you say. “you think i’m done?” his words slice through the thick air. “wha-“ you attempt to stutter out something, anything, but he’s already holding your hips, licking your cunt again.

you grab a fistful of his hair, thighs squeezing his head. “mmh… you fucking like that doll, hm?” he asks, looking up at you. you nod profusely, not trusting your voice.

he spits on your clit, staring you deep in the eyes as he does so. your hips aren’t even on the couch anymore, back is arched, head is flung back, yet he’s still going for more.

not only did he care about your pleasure and how you felt, but loved eating you out just for the pure taste and pleasure he got from watching you.

your second orgasm crushes you, hips jerking to meet simons eager face. you were on edge, your body being sensitive and fragile.

simon gets up off the couch, reaching into a bag of some sort. you lay there, completely fucked out, staring at the ceiling. the soft hum of the t.v. washes through your brain as you hear the sound of a belt coming off, then hitting the floor. you turn to your left, and sure enough, simon is standing there in nothing but his boxers.

“you said you needed me to fuck you, yeah love?” he clarifies. “si… can’t” you manage to say. “you know the word, and until you say it, i don’t plan on us stopping.” he says, pulling down his boxers.

you’re perched on your elbows, watching his cock spring out. you notice a small amount of precum dripping from his tip, only making you wetter.

he slides the condom he grabbed onto his cock, pumping himself in the process. he places you on the long part of your L couch, lining his member up to your needy entrance. he doesn’t move a muscle from there, it’s simply just his tip barely touching your heat.

“simon!” you whine, uncomfortably squirming. you needed him, and he knew that. “yes darlin’?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

“ugh- don’t be a prick! please just fuck me!” you groan, anger bubbling in your throat. “stop being a tease.”

he chuckles at the words you add softly, and follows through with his plan. his cock just slides in because of your wetness, but shit was it tight. he starts with a few slow thrusts, finding a rhythmic pace.

“please si” you moan out. “faster” he follows your command, snapping his hips to meet yours much faster. your words are now incoherent babbles, attempts made to speak just being disregarded.

“fuck i’m so close” you warn, head flying back into the cushion. “mph me too” simon groans out as his thrusts become sloppier. “shit ‘m- cumming-!” you squeal as you feel a warm liquid pool inside the condom.

you release all over his dick as he rides out his high. he pulls out, discarding the condom. simon grabs you by your waist and lays you down in a more comfortable position while he cleans the couch, cleaning you as well.

he lays by your side as you rest your head against his beating heart. the two of you lie skin to skin in a comforting silence, sweat and sex filling the air.

“is that what you needed?” simon says after a few moments of heavy breathing.

“fuck you”

“already done love”

tessa’s notes… hi guys!! sorry for my absence:( alsooo new writing style??? i died my hair all day today and messed it up so bad im dyinggg

taglist… @emely9274 @baileysturnz @sllutty-sturniolo @chrisspussygang @ivysturnss @evansturn @sturniolosluttt @kisschriss @sheluvsthesturniolos @sparklybtch @mothstvrnz @slvt4subchratt @csturnioloswifey @moond0llie @chrissleftshoe @sweetheartsangel @sophand4n4 @sturrrrnslvt @sturnsfavxo @wh0remikasas

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evansbuckle · 1 day ago

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Mechanic!Singledad!Bucky Barnes AU

long awaited part 6! I think the reason i've been struggling to write this more is the fact that its in first person and I never write in first person. But alas, we're here!!! Likes & Reblogs are always appreciated <3333

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: use of y/n, reader has she/her pronouns, smut (oral), kissing, Bucky barnes being flirty as ever, swearing, pet names, way too many commas.

masterlist part one part two part three part four part five

Grease, Part Six

Waking up to the smell of pancakes is not common, but damn is it pleasant. The sweet waft of breakfast fills the bedroom as I stretch my body out on the king size bed, groaning lightly as I melt back into the mattress. My arms reach out to the spot next to me, finding nothing but bed. I stand up, grabbing a shirt off the floor, and make my way out to the kitchen. I lean against the doorframe for a second, taking in the sight in front of me.

Bucky stands over the stove, shirtless obviously, flipping pancakes and humming to the song on the radio. His head bops in time with the music as he wipes his hand on a towel, throwing it haphazardly over his shoulder. He moves to the cupboard, grabbing syrup and taking it to the table.

“Enjoyin’ the show?” He catches me staring. I chuckle softly, making my way over to the table and sitting down.

“Obviously. If i was shirtless making breakfast think you’d enjoy the view too.”

“Damn straight.” He moves back to the counter, picking up the plate of pancakes, bringing it to the table. “You want coffee?”

I nod in response, enjoying the domesticity of the morning. He pours a cup, hands it to me, and sits opposite me.

“How’d you sleep, sugar?”

I start eating the food in front of me, “Better than I usually do to be honest. Might have something to do with the human furnace who was next to me.”

He laughs at that, nodding slightly as he takes a sip of his coffee,”Might do, or might have something to do with the fact that you were tired out.”

I choke a little on the pancake in my mouth, not looking up at him. “Am I wrong, sugar?” He stays smirking as I shake my head at him. He grins, all teeth, as he shovels food in his mouth.

“I’ve got work today,” he starts, “So I won’t be around for long.”

“You kicking me out Barnes?”

“I, what? No, honey, I, what?”

“I’m kidding, relax. I have work too.” It’s my turn to smile as Bucky struggles to form a full sentence.

“I still wasn’t trynna kick you sweetheart, you know you’re more than welcome to stay. Your car’ll be done tonight as well if you wanna pick it up.”

“Wow, yeah. That’s great.” We finish eating. “I should get going though.”

He nods curtly, following me into the bedroom as I chuck on a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and put my shoes on. I move to stand in front of him.

“I’ve had a good time with you two,” I peck his cheek, “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, sugar. Later.” He watches me as I leave, softly waving when I disappear down the driveway.

The short walk back home in the fresh morning air lets me think. It had been a week since meeting Bucky, and it was one of the best weeks I’d had. Every waking moment was spent yearning for the soft, stable feeling he gave me, for the sound of his low voice. I didn’t know what this was turning into between us, but I knew I didn’t want it to come to an end.

I walk through my apartment door, greeting the sleepy dog on the floor with a head scratch. The clock on the wall read eight thirty, and I moved to my bathroom, needing to brush my teeth. Cheryl sat in the doorway of the bathroom, head cocked to the side, panting, as I get myself ready. She trails behind me as I move through the flat, happy to just be in my presence. I get dressed and leave for work, looking forward to getting my car back.

Work is work, and today it’s filled with elderly people. They spend the entire day filing in and out, buying tea and pastries, sitting together and laughing quietly. In quieter moments I text Bucky, replying to whatever car-related issue he was fixing at that time. I don’t realise the time until Margot, the manager, walks out reminding me that I can go. I don’t waste time, eager to get my car back, and to see the oily man who fixed it.

The familiar scent of fuel welcomes me in, and my eyes immediately seek out Bucky, tucked away into the corner of the garage, lying under a car. I walk over to him, the sound of my footsteps catching his attention as he rolls out from under some car, grease smeared on his forehead.

“Hi sugar,” he drawls, stand up to lean against the car, wiping at his face.

“Hi Bucky.”

“She’s all done, good as new,” he leads me over to where my car is stationed, “or well, as new as can be.”

“Hey! It’s… vintage.”

He rolls his eyes at me, “Your keys are in the office, come on.”

Bucky leads us to the small office, heading in first. He takes a seat on the desk chair, and before he gets a chance to open the drawer I stand in front of it. His head tilts up as he looks at me, brows furrowed.

“Sugar, your keys are in there. You gotta-”

I shake my head no as I let my hands fall to his jaw, cupping softly as I place a tender kiss on his lips, letting heat build between us. He forgets what he was doing quick enough, hands coming to rest on my hips as he pulls me onto his lap. I giggle a little at the inconvenient position, and move myself onto the floor, situated between his legs. He lets out a little gasp when my hands come to fumble with his zipper.

“Y/n, you-”

“You’re not letting me pay you,” I undo the zipper of his jeans, “It’s the least I could do. Besides, it’s all i’ve been thinking about since yesterday.”

Bucky lifts his hips off the chair as he pulls his jeans down. He sits, leaning against the backrest, eyes darkened as he looks down at me. I let my hands trail up his muscular thigh, nails lightly raking over his firm legs. His boxers weren’t leaving much to the imagination, his excitement clear, and I chuckled softly.

“Why’re you laughing?”

“I’ve barely touched you, Bucky and you’re already hard.”

“My girl is on her knees in front of me and you expect me to not be? C’mon baby.”

I tried to ignore the way my heart fluttered at ‘my girl’ but when i looked into his eyes all i saw was sincerity; he meant it. I press a soft kiss to his thigh, then snap the waistband of his boxers against his skin. I pull them down just enough to free him, highly aware of the fact the door was unlocked, and Bucky wasn’t the only mechanic working today.

He hisses a little as the cotton fabric drags over him, settled mid thigh. My mouth parts a little at the sight of him. Bucky was big, that was expected - his whole body was big. But his dick was beautiful: slightly curved, with a vein running along the underside, tinged red.

“Unless you’re planning on using that mouth sugar you should probably close it.”

I look up to him, tracing a fingertip along the vein, enjoying the way he twitched. I leave a trail of soft kisses along him, stopping just at his tip. His hand comes to rest on my face, thumb stroking back and forth on my cheek. I lick the leaking tip of his cock; saltiness settling on my tongue as he groaned a little above me, his thumb stopping. I do it again, moving my tongue down along his shaft, before coming back up, sucking his tip into my mouth. I do it again a couple times, letting myself get a little messy; spit pooling in my mouth. His hold on me tightens, head tilted back just a little bit.

I swirl my tongue over the top, flicking my eyes up to find him watching my every move. His mouth parts just a little, tongue darting over his bottom lip as his breathing speeds up.

I take him into my mouth fully, nose nestled just at his pelvic bone, and I don’t miss the way he holds back a moan. I hum a little around him, the weight and warmth of him on my tongue feels right. His hand grips the back of my head, holding me in place as his hips move, taking full advantage of my mouth.

I reach a hand around to his balls, cupping, rolling, anything my mind can think of that would make him feel good.

He groans then, whispering a “fuck, sugar” before his hips speed up. I hollow my cheeks, and breath through my nose as best I can as i feel his hips stutter against my face, just before he comes.

I pull off him with a light pop, making sure his eyes are on me before i swallow, leaning in to kiss him while he calms down.

“You are insane,” he says, voice raspy. “I’m so infatuated with you.”

I laugh at his confession, “No, that’s the post-orgasm brain that’s talking right now.”

He shakes his head, pulling up his boxers and jeans as he stands up. “No, it’s the truth, sugar. Although if your mouth has me reelin’ I dread to think how other parts of you will completely ruin me,” he gruffs out, hand finding the back of my neck as he pulls me in for a searing kiss; his tongue pushing into my mouth, meshing with my own.

Doesn’t last long as a knock on the door pulls us apart, both catching our breaths. The door opens, Sam stood grinning on the other side.

“Are you two done? I need a pen.”

Bucky scowls at him as he hands him one. I walk round the desk, grabbing my car keys from the drawer.

“I should get going,” I smile at the boys. “Thanks for fixing her.” I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss Bucky’s flushed cheek, patting Sam on the back on my way out, giggling at the immediate questioning Sam subjects Bucky to.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

taglist: if you'd like to be added, lmk!

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cloudedangels · 3 days ago

Text

Extended Leave ♡ Part 5 (18+)

📖 Pt One 📖 Pt Two

📖 Pt Three 📖 Pt Four

▪ Fem!Caleb x Fem!Reader ▪ AU ▪ 18+ ▪ minors pls do not interact ▪ part 5 of my Extended Leave series ▪︎ 3,237 words

Blue light and relief. Worship. Crashing into each other at last.

cw/tags: fem!Caleb, fem!reader, AU, pilot!caleb, childhood friends to what are we?, slow burn, domestic intimacy, yearning, tension and tenderness, soft butch x soft femme, mutual pining, emotional repression, unspoken feelings, pining gone feral, watching/listening (mentioned), voyeurism (mentioned), soft dom!Caleb, service top, smut, sapphic romance, mutual obsession, quiet intensity, emotional intimacy, yearning, flirting, sapphic angst, possessive energy, low-key yandere!Caleb, jealousy, self-doubt, dirty talk, freak4freak, snapped tension, crying, edging, oral(f), fingering(f), pet names (pips[queek], baby, pretty/sweet girl, princess)

bunnie's looped songs for this part 🎧here🎧

full fic playlist 🎧here🎧

Although it's not necessary I do recommend playing the looped playlist while you read if you can (:

She exhales, and there's ten years in the way she kisses you then, her fingers reaching for the place that's been aching for them for days on end.

☆☆☆☆☆

Time folds. To your dismay, she still hasn't touched you yet. You are already soaking wet, waiting for her touch.

Caleb pulls back and tugs you down by the waist, so gently it feels like a cradle.

“Forgive me. I'm not going to make you wait much longer... I just... I need you just like this... if you'll let me do this right,” she murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Kisses there. Your throat, collarbones.

Your whimper under them, your hips buck, desperate.

"I've dreamt of this, so so many times... Just let me show you what I can do for you, okay?"

She shifts her weight and the bed shifts beneath you. Filtered through the curtains, light spills around you, a pale blue cast, an underwater dream, a piece of sky. The slats of the blinds paint stripes onto Caleb's shoulders and neck, your chest. She looks cut open by the light.

"You look so pretty I could cry," she whispers into your jaw. "I would keep you like this if I could, hanging, breathless. I've never seen you want me so bad."

You whine. "Caleb..."

"Shhh." She leans down to kiss you again. Every kiss is less clumsy than the last, but still a crashing wave of so much beyond the surface.

"You're too good to be tortured... I swear, I just want to savour you... is that okay, pretty girl?"

Your eyes shut and you nod. She's different. Not by much, but you like it. Even if she's wrapping you around her finger.

"I'm going to take your shirt off... I want to see you."

The shirt peels off before you can speak. You look at her as she takes you in. "So perfect..." She grips the shirt, balled in her hands. "This shirt used to be mine... were you wearing it when you came last night, pips?"

Your eyes shut and you're blushing hard as you bob your head in confirmation. She presses it to her face and breathes it in. She's snapped out of self control, and you get wetter as it happens.

She presses the shirt to her face again and breathes in like it’s a drug, like she could drown in it.

“Oh fuck,” she whispers, muffled against the fabric. “I shouldn’t like this as much as I do.”

You can’t tell if she’s talking to you or herself. You wonder if she’s going to keep it. Hide it somewhere. Sleep with it under her pillow when she leaves again.

Then she looks back down at you, shirt still in her hands. Her voice is hoarse. "I’ll never stop thinking about that. You, wearing me while you—” She shakes her head.

“Saying my name like you did... You knew I’d find out, didn’t you? You wanted me to know.”

You shake your head, breath caught, but your thighs squeeze together involuntarily. Her eyes go there.

“You little liar,” she murmurs, and there’s no malice in it. Just tender, yet filthy, worship. You’re in disbelief.

"You're ready for me to open those pretty legs? Show me what you have for me?"

Good god, she's making you dizzy. Your legs open, light shining between them. Your pink panties are soaked. You can feel it.

"You and these lacy things... I've taken care of 'em for you, n now they're soaked because of me? You'll drive me crazy... I don't even have to touch you there, it's wet, I can see... you must be aching, pips aren't you?"

She kisses down your stomach, slow and hungry, like she’s trying to memorize the shape of you. You twitch when her lips graze just below your navel.

Your breath catches. Her hair brushes your inner thighs.

Then she stops. Rests her cheek against your hip bone. Eyes closed.

“Do you know how many times I thought about this?” she says, almost absently. “You, begging me. Your pretty thighs shaking. My name in your mouth and nothing to brace you but my hands.”

You whimper. Your hips arch, but she presses her palm flat on your pelvis. Not yet.

“I used to touch myself sometimes when I was alone in the cockpit, you know, at the base too, in that lonely fucking bed.” she murmurs, almost like she’s confessing a sin. “Quiet, careful... Thinking about you laying in my old bed, in this fucking shirt. Sucking your fingers because you missed me.”

You let out a sound you can’t name. It breaks in your throat. Mostly because you know she's not wrong.

“Shhh, shhh, I know,” she says, eyes finally open again, wide and wild. “Me too. It’s too much, isn’t it?”

Her fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

“I’m gonna see you now. I’ll be good. I’ll be gentle. But I’m gonna look, and you’re not gonna hide.”

The fabric drags down slow—wet, clinging to your lips—and you swear she moans under her breath as it leaves your skin. She keeps them around your knees, not even bothering to take them off fully. Her fingers ghost down the inside of your thigh like a prayer. You twitch. She watches you, (always watching) then her eyes swallow you.

"S-so pretty..." she whispers, and you feel small and wet and pulsing.

"Please..."

"You're so good to me, poor thing... I'm gonna make it all better, mkay? You just gotta tell me, do you want my hands or my mouth? I can't promise it'll be perfect, I've saved everything for you... but I'll keep going until it feels like heaven, you've just gotta ride it out with me. You're brave, you can use your words..."

She brushes over your panties just once with two fingers and gasps out a moan at the same time as you. Your hips buck into it, you feel so desperate.

"Oh my god... is that for me, princess?"

"Yes," you rasp out. It's been for days, she had yet to claim it.

"Careful, you can't take that back..."

Your lips are pressed together, your legs are shaking. The waiting is torturous despite her earlier promise not to. You eyes lock onto hers. You can feel the look on your face, and you know it's pathetic, she doesn't have to tell you. But you beg, again, just like always.

"Caleb..."

Her moan is more of a whimper when you pull her name from your mouth like that.

"Please... I can't—"

She looks at you, blue, dashed by the lights. She looks so pretty, so strong, so wild and just for you, that you can hardly take it.

"My hands or my mouth? I can't until you choose, I know it's hard to think like this—I can't choose for you..."

You try to speak but only breath comes out. You reach for her wrist, try to guide her—but she stops you again.

“Say it,” she murmurs. “I need to hear you pick.”

“...Your mouth,” you whisper, the words so fragile it’s like breaking a spell.

Her eyes widen. “You sure?”

You nod, and this time she doesn’t ask again.

She kisses your jaw, then all the way down your body, from your neck to your belly. Wet, sloppy, greedy kisses.

The stripes of blue light shift across your thighs, her shoulders. She kisses down your stomach in slanted shadows, each press of her lips a new stroke across your skin. You swear the sunlight is holding you both down. Your breath shudders, hips and fingers twitch.

Her breath is warm and damp when she descends to the space between your legs, lying on her belly, propped up by her forearms. Her left hand slides to your hip to press you down, the other reaches to hold your hand.

"If I get too lost and you need me to stop, grip your nails into my hand as hard as you can, okay? I can't guarantee anything else is gonna pull me away from you once I start."

You blink. You don't want to have to hurt her.

As if reading your mind, she squeezes your hand. "I'm a strong girl, pipsqueak, you won't hurt me."

Her head hangs just above your core, and you swear you feel her shake.

“You smell like you’ve been waiting for me your whole life,” she whispers. Then her lips part, and she presses the softest kiss to your clit—like it’s sacred.

You cry out without meaning to. Her hands tighten—one at your hip, the other still interlocked with yours.

“Shhh, I’ve got you, baby,” she breathes against you. “I’ve got you now. I’ll never let anyone else see you like this. I swear on everything.”

Her lips finally descend, and it’s like a gasp gets pulled out of your soul.

Her mouth moves slowly, lovingly, and it’s unbearable how gentle she starts. Licking like she’s trying to write something inside of you. Like she wants to live there.

☆☆☆☆☆

It’s slow, so slow. She licks like she’s testing the temperature of a flame. Your thighs jerk. You moan.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” she murmurs, eyes flicking up. “You don’t even know how good you taste. I could stay here forever.”

You can’t answer. You can only clutch the sheets. The light paints her shoulder blades in ribbons. Her hair brushes your thighs like silk. You forget what day it is. What year it is. You could drown in the feeling of her.

You try to hold on—to what, you’re not sure. Your breath, your sanity, some last shred of yourself before she completely takes it.

The Caleb you're used to is patient. This Caleb is not. She's slow but taking, she kisses you like time doesn’t exist. Like this was what clocks were built for.

She doesn’t say anything for a while. Just breathes, licks, worships. And when her lips wrap around you—when her tongue flicks like she’s spelling her name—you cry out again. You think you feel your heartbeat in your throat, your toes, your scalp.

Her grip on your hand tightens.

“You’re so sweet,” she murmurs between licks, “and so loud… You never used to be this loud. Is this who you are with me now? Do I get to keep her?”

Your hips arch up, but her arm locks you down.

“I knew it,” she groans, almost in disbelief. “You were made for me.”

You pant her name. You’re unraveling. She moans into you.

Your legs begin to shake. She doesn’t stop. Won’t. Not until you say her name again.

“Caleb—Caleb—” you sob, voice gone thin. “I—”

Her eyes snap up. The obsession in them is glassy and you want it, you want it so bad it swallows you.

“That’s right, baby. Let me hear it.”

She suckles you, slowly, then deeper. Her nose presses against your skin. Her hand leaves yours just long enough to reach between your thighs, and when she pushes a finger in, slow but sudden. You jolt like you’ve been struck by lightning.

You cry out her name again, and she laughs, shaky and low and broken.

“Oh my god. That’s it. That’s what I needed. You saying my name like that. You… taking me like this.”

She kisses your thigh. Adds a second finger. Your body’s unspooled thread.

“You’ve got no idea what I’ve saved up for you,” she whispers. “What I’d do to make you cum for me. I’d—”

She falters. Her head drops back down. She licks again.

You’re not going to last. You can feel it.

And she can, too.

“Don’t hold it,” she pleads, almost angry. “You don’t have to hide anything from me. I need it. Let me feel you fall apart. Let me have it.”

You reach for her wrist again. This time she lets you. Holds you. Fingers buried deep, tongue gentle, too gentle—

But only for a moment.

Then her rhythm changes. Becomes purposeful. Consuming. Curling. Her teeth graze you and you scream.

She groans like she’s the one climaxing.

☆☆☆☆☆

The light splits around you.

There’s too much of her—mouth, fingers, breath, voice, Caleb Caleb Caleb—you can’t hold it anymore.

You try to say her name. It comes out as something else. A sob. A vow. A confession.

There’s a second where you don’t know who’s holding who.

The sound of your name is still ringing in her mouth.

Your thighs are trembling. Her hands won’t let go.

She’s still between your legs, forehead pressed to your thigh, like she’s praying.

Her fingers haven’t moved. Neither have you.

“I’m still here,” she murmurs.

Your eyes are prickled with tears. Hers are too, her fingers move out of you with the lewdest wet sound, a near-pop.

"God, Caleb... Where did you learn how to do that?"

She doesn’t answer right away.

Just breathes against your thigh, her fingers sticky where they rest against your hip, her mouth swollen, her chest rising with something wild.

Then:

“I didn’t,” she says. Her voice sounds dazed. Wrecked. “I just thought about it. Constantly.”

She kisses your leg. Another. Slower.

“I thought about what it would sound like,” she murmurs, voice trembling now. “How soft you'd be. How sweet you'd taste. What you’d look like when you came for me. I just… paid attention.”

Your chest heaves. You can feel the flutter of her breath between your thighs still, and her fingers are twitching like she’s resisting the urge to go again.

“I didn’t even know I’d be good at it,” she adds, finally lifting her head. Her face is pink. Her eyes are glassy. “I just knew I’d never forgive myself if I got it wrong.”

You can barely breathe.

“You didn’t,” you whisper.

Caleb stares at you, like your praise is too much, another wave she’s about to drown under.

“I want to stay here,” she says, softly. “I want to stay inside of this. I want to sleep in the sound of you falling apart.”

You reach for her face. Thumb brushing her cheekbone, fingers tracing the side of her damp jaw.

“You can,” you whisper. “For as long as you want.”

She laughs—quiet, breathless, half-collapsed against your thigh like she’s resting there. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again.

��I... saved it all for you.”

The words fall like a confession. Her breath is still warm on your skin. You feel raw and kissed open and so full of her you think you'll burst. She sucks her fingers clean.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, flushed, trembling.

She just hums, fingers slipping free of her mouth. “Like what?”

“Like you’re still starving.”

She shifts, pulls herself up and forward, crawling until she’s kneeling between your legs, until her face is level with yours again. Her expression is unreadable for a second, wild, tender, broken, but still soft.

Then she says, “I am.”

You don’t know what to do with it, so you reach for her. Her arms wrap around you immediately, strong and warm, and she holds you like she thinks you might disappear. Your breath shudders against her neck.

Neither of you speaks for a while. There’s no sound but the birds outside. The slow drip of her breath. The whisper of her fingers stroking your body under the blankets. You don’t know how much time passes. Minutes, maybe. A whole hour.

You don’t move.

Until, “Pipsqueak?”

You tilt your head, eyes still closed. “Mhm?”

“You’re shaking.”

“I know.”

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

She adjusts you, presses herself tighter to your chest, like she could shield you with her ribs. Like she could rebuild the entire world with her body to keep you inside it.

Then, “Was it too much?”

You blink. “No. God. No.”

She kisses your hair.

“I didn’t mean to…” she starts, but trails off.

You pull back enough to look at her. Her face is open, bare in the pale light. Her lips are swollen. Her eyes are red.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks.

The question is so quiet it nearly breaks you.

You reach up, cup her cheek.

“No,” you whisper. “You did something right.”

Her eyes flutter shut under your touch, like she’s in pain. Or relief. Or both.

Then she opens them again.

“You said my name like it meant something new,” she says. “You don’t know what that did to me.”

Your throat tightens.

“I think I do.”

She leans in again—this kiss is softer, quieter. Just a brush. A thank-you. A promise. Her hands never leave your waist.

Her eyes close. Her lashes flutter against your hand.

“I’m scared,” she says, finally. “It’s too much. It’s always been too much with you.”

You nod. Your throat is tight.

“I know,” you say. “Me too.”

When she finally lays her head on your chest, it feels like your whole world exhales.

She’s trembling again.

You bury your fingers in her hair. Her breath steadies. Then slows.

You think she’s asleep until she murmurs—

“I’m not done with you.”

You blink.

“Not today,” she clarifies. “Not ever. You understand?”

"Is that a promise?"

She doesn't reply right away. Her arms wrap tighter. You kiss her head.

In your arms, she feels small and like the whole world at the same time. A dream within a dream. The galaxy within a girl. Your undoing and the person you know best.

Her face is damp on top of you, she trembles a little.

"Caleb? Are you crying?"

She nods. Doesn't move.

She mumbles into you.

"Now that I've had you like this, I will be lost if I can't come back to you. Everything I've ever done was holding the fact that I would need to come back around to you. There's no other way now. I really will never be able to return to anything else."

Again, you're crying with her.

You wonder where she gets all of this doubt from, all this fear. You can still feel her all over, inside of you.

The light has moved. Shadows stretch differently now. You think it must be past two, maybe three.

"Remember when I was a kid, what you would do during storms when the power went out? I wouldn't move, I was so afraid of the dark... I'd cry and cry but I was scared to call for you. So you’d run around the house yelling 'lighthouse, lighthouse! Mei mei lost at sea!' with a flashlight in your hands. Until you'd find me. Or until I was brave enough to follow the sound of your voice or the light beams."

She laughs raspy, breathy, and small, "Yeah. Of course I remember... Why would you bring that up now?"

"I think... I'm brave enough. Brave enough to look for you now. If you can't make it to me on your own, I'll clear the path." You lift her face and she looks at you tear-stained and awestruck. "Even though lighthouses don't move." You mock, a smile blooming on both your faces, giggles erupting. A break in the seriousness. A pearl inside the shell of time.

“I’ll be good,” she whispers. “I’ll be normal. I’ll try.”

You laugh, breathless. “Don’t. I like you like this.”

She blinks, then smiles, hiding her face inside of your chest.

“God help us both,” she mumbles.

🏷taglist: @chewbrry @grlpartdoll @jetterdonna @starryeyed-apple @mephisto-with-a-knife @er0da @dream-gardener

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series lmk in comments or reblogs! (Must have age in bio)

#fem caleb au #fem!caleb #fem caleb #extended leave series #caleb #caleb fanfic #lads caleb #caleb lads smut #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb smut #lads smut #caleb smut #lads fic #caleb lads #lads fanfic #sapphic #wlw smut

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honeyrotsoul · 1 day ago

Text

Paring: Melissa x Fem Reader (side nat x reader) (very brief mentions of taivan, shaunahat, jackieshauna, and lottielee - like very brief)

Word Count: Roughly 6000

Warnings: light smut (fingering), cheating (also an insane amount of swearing) (and a background character who is aware that she’s a background character)

I was trying to channel that little gray area between Melissa being a background character and Melissa being bold enough to cause harm on her own, but idk if I succeeded.

“I got a girl crush. Hate to admit it, but I got a heart rush. Ain’t slowing down. I got it real bad. Want everything she has. That smile and that midnight life she’s giving you now. I wanna taste her lips, yeah, cause they taste like you. I wanna drown myself in a bottle of her perfume. I want her long blonde hair. I want her magic touch. Yeah, cause maybe then, you’d want me just as much.”

–Girl Crush, Little Big Town

MELISSA WAS HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH YOU. She had been ever since kindergarten when you were the only kid who sat next to her. The only kid who thought she was worth talking to. Melissa was, unfortunately, used to being the background character in everyone else’s story. Honestly, that was kind of okay with her. She didn’t want or even like the attention that came with being a main character. Too much work, and a hell of a lot of trauma, it seemed. No, it was better this way. As long as you continued to shine your light down upon her, for you were like the sun to Melissa. And she was just lucky enough to orbit around you.

But you never noticed how Melissa felt, because you were dating Natalie Scatorccio. Freakin’ Natalie who wasn’t even a real blonde! So, what did Natalie have that she didn’t? Was it the bleach blonde hair that made her look like a rockstar when she did her eyeliner in that messy-on-purpose way? Perhaps it was the ridiculously expensive cologne that Mel wasn’t even sure Natalie could afford. (Did you buy it for her? Did Lottie help her shoplift it? Did she save up every few months for a single bottle? So many questions!) Or maybe it was her cool clothes and the faint scent of leather that followed her everywhere she went. Because Natalie Scatorccio was the epicenter of cool.

And Melissa was not.

So what, Melissa was a dork. What was wrong with that? She liked comic books and Star Wars and sports and quiet nights in. But maybe that wasn’t what you were into. Maybe you liked parties and music so loud that the beat thumped in your chest. Maybe you liked chaotic energy and a leader, not a follower. It was one of the things that Melissa always hated about herself. She wasn’t a leader. She was a follower, a loyal subject that was constantly looking for approval.

And that was how she ended up here.

She was standing in front of her mirror, studying herself. Maybe she should try a regular bra instead of a sports bra for a change? …Nah, she doesn’t want to make her boobs sit up that much. (Plus, her mom might suddenly get the urge to put her in a dress again, and the thought alone makes her shiver in disgust.) Would you even notice if she changed her look for the day? Probably not, but it was worth a shot, right? What would a girl like Natalie even like to wear?

God, this is so stupid. Melissa groaned internally. She pulled out a black t-shirt with cutoff sleeves. When did she even get this? She scrunched her nose, brows furrowed as she thought. Ah, now she remembers. It was that summer she spent with your family at the beach house. A seagull stole her shirt - for what, she doesn’t know - so you’d stolen one from your brother. Maybe that was why she’d latched onto you. You always took such good care of her. She liked that. She liked being seen by you, just a little. It was different from being seen by everyone else.

She’d brought cologne for the first time. She usually didn’t bother with things like that. She was always a little too embarrassed to buy it in front of her mom, anyway. Her mother already judged her enough. Or perhaps judged was the wrong word. She didn’t exactly judge her. Melissa knew that her mother loved her, she still showed it as best as he could. She just wasn’t exactly happy when Melissa traded dresses and ribbons for cleats and scruffed knees. In a way, Melissa got it. Maybe it was a little bit jarring for a person to think of their daughter as a princess only to find out that she’d rather be the prince. And now, every time Melissa came downstairs in cargo shorts and a snapback or rushed to open the door for a pretty girl, she was met with that indignant little sniff from her mother. At least she stopped telling her that it was just a phase. She was slowly coming around. Melissa just hoped that she would fully accept her before it was too late. Because, deep down, she was still just a girl. She wanted her parents at her wedding. She wanted to be walked down the aisle, just not in a big, poofy dress.

She didn’t want to look like a fucking cupcake.

Melissa puffed out a sigh and lifted the heavy bottle. Her mother had given her the cash to buy it, but only because she’d told her she was buying perfume instead. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have been so bad. Just because she was masc didn’t mean she couldn’t also wear perfume and do girly shit when she wanted to. She could be butch and still smell like a flower! But this was for your benefit. While she was studying the bottle, she accidentally spritzed herself in the face, which caused her to cough and gag. And then she ended up spraying too much in general, which fucking sucked. This was not going well.

Shit, she forgot to change her pants. She can’t go in cargo shorts again. She always goes in cargo shorts.

She pulled on a pair of jeans, which honestly weren’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but they would do. Melissa usually dressed for comfort over style, which wouldn’t do today. Today was about you and finally telling you how she felt, consequences be damned. She picked up her brush and was about to run it through her long, blonde locks but then thought against it. She placed the brush back down and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get that messy, fluffy look without turning her waves into a frizzy mess. Maybe she should get bangs? No, she’d look fucking stupid with bangs. She doesn’t have the forehead for that. She reached for her favorite pink snapback, remembered that she’d never seen Natalie wear a hat a day in her life, and reluctantly put it back.

Was this obsessive? Did changing herself to get a girl to like her make her some kind of freak? But wasn’t that what love was? Or wasn’t that at least what surviving on this floating space rock was? Learning to adapt, to fit in where you could? And Melissa so desperately wanted to fit in with you however she could. She knew that she should want someone who would love her as she was, but that had never worked out for her before. People only seemed to want her for who she could become, and not who she already was.

So, she would change. She would learn to be a chameleon, always changing.

She caught up to you in the courtyard, practically ran to catch you before you headed off to English class. And there you were, standing directly in the sun, looking as radiant as ever. You were laughing, standing there with all your friends. It felt like everyone loved you. And Melissa hated how she always felt like she was on the outside looking in. She didn’t exist until one of you spoke to her. Until you spoke to her.

There’s no way that Taissa Turner is that funny, but you’re still laughing. Maybe she would have believed it if it were Mari that you were laughing at. How many years had she been on this team, just for none of those girls to even know her name? And if they did know her name, they certainly couldn’t say anything beyond that.

But you knew her. You did. Because the moment you saw her, you smiled that big, beautiful smile at her and said goodbye to your friends before making your way over to her. “Hey”, you greeted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

Melissa feels her heart flutter. “Hey”, she greets in return.

You playfully nudge her with your elbow. “Why are you standing over here like a stalker? Come say hi to everyone.”

Melissa rolled her big blue eyes, shook her head. “No, thank you. Those girls will just keep asking my name over and over when I have literally always been here.”

“Hm”, you hummed in response. “Okay, well, there’s a party tonight. You should come by”, you said, looping your arm through hers.

Melissa groaned, looked up to the heavens that so brilliantly matched her eyes. “You know I don’t like parties. I always feel awkward and left out.” She glanced down at the chipped nail polish on your fingers. Pale blue. Maybe, subconsciously, she had an effect on you too. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“That’s all I ask”, you said cheerfully, smiling. “Hey, do you hear dripping?”

Melissa furrowed her brows in confusion. “Dripping?”, she repeated in confusion. “What-? No”, she said quickly.

“Huh, weird”, you said, equally as confused. You smiled a little, took a step closer. “You’re wearing the shirt I gave you.”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m trying out something different today”, Melissa said. She had gotten a little dazed, if she were being honest.

You tilted your head, eyes drifting up and down her figure, before shaking your head. “Well, all of this looks really nice, but I like regular Melissa.”

This caught her off guard. “You do?’

“Yeah”, you nodded. “Like, where’s your funky little hat?”

She rolled her eyes in response. “I’ll wear it for you tomorrow, I promise.”

A teasing smile crept up onto your face. “Does the hat stay on during sex?”

Melissa’s pale cheeks heated up immediately. There was still a faint tan to her skin, making her look sunkissed. You always felt that if it weren’t soccer and you lived in a different state, Melissa would have been a surfer. She shoved you a little. “Shut up”, she murmured as you laughed loudly.

Melissa did end up going to the party. Not because she exactly wanted to, but because you asked and how could she say no to that pretty face? You were dancing to some TLC Song when she arrived - Baby-Baby-Baby, maybe? She didn’t really know the logistics or many of their songs, just that they were your favorite group. And you always looked the happiest, the most free, when you were dancing to their music, because you didn’t care what anyone thought of you.

You smiled just as brightly when you saw her. Somehow, it made Melissa feel all warm and tingly that you were always so excited to see her. Nobody else was ever really excited to see her. Except maybe Gen. Gen, aside from you, was the only friend she had in the world, or at least that was how it felt. Gen didn’t think she was boring. You didn’t either, to be fair. She couldn’t say the same for the rest of the team. “Hey, you. Get over here”, you called out to her.

Melissa didn’t know what came over her.

One minute, the two of you were dancing, spinning, laughing.The next, she had bit the bullet, She leaned in and kissed you. Your lips were soft, and you tasted like pure sugar and chocolate because you were always loading up on sweets whenever you could. Was this what heaven felt like? The little soft breaths that escaped you, the softness of your skin, the flowery scent of your perfume?

But it was all over far too quickly, because, suddenly, she was ripped away from you and Nat’s voice was ringing in her ears. “What the fuck, Melissa?!”, she shouted. Shouted so loudly, in fact, that the rest of the Yellowjackets heard and came rushing over. Great, now you had an audience.

Melissa let out an almost bitter sounding laugh. It was very rare that she had anything biting to say, very rare that she was anything but kind. But, sometimes, there was a spark within her. A tenacity that couldn’t be tamed. “Oh, so now you know my name?”

Silence. Nat let out a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “You think you’re funny?”, she asked bitterly. “You kissed my girlfriend, and you think you’re fuckin’ funny?”

You just barely caught Natalie around her middle before she could lunge at Melissa. It wasn’t like Nat particularly liked to fight, but she certainly wasn’t above doing it. Especially when it came to you. “Stop it”, you hissed. “You’re making a scene.”

“You’re damn right I’m making a scene!”, Natalie exclaimed. “This bitch-”

Melissa bristled. She took a step closer, fists clenched by her sides. They were pretty evenly matched in height. Nat was 5’6, roughly. Melissa was 5’5, probably. But muscle mass made a difference, and Melissa certainly had more of it. Not that you’d noticed, or anything… “Oh, I’ll give you a fucking scene, Scatorccio!” Would she really? It was always hard to tell with Melissa. Sometimes, she’d stand her ground. Other times, she would get so close just to miss the mark and falter in the end. It was a real toss up.

“Hey!”, you interrupted. “That’s enough, both of you! You’re embarrassing me, and yourselves. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. Melissa and I got caught up in the moment and she-”

“Stop fucking defending her!”, Nat groaned. “She knows what she did. And the only misunderstanding is going to be my foot up her fucking ass!”

“Oh, by all means, shrimpy, come at me!”, Melissa scoffed. She wasn’t scared of Nat. She could take her in a fight… couldn’t she?

Natalie laughed, bitter and hollow. “Don’t piss me off, Mel. We both know that if I actually did come at you, you’d piss your pants like you did in the second grade.” Somewhere behind you, Shauna Shipman snorts into her red solo cup. And when she can’t contain her laughter, she buries her face in Jackie Taylor’s shoulder as if the wide eyed girl alone is enough to stifle her little giggles. And, of course, when she starts giggling, Tai almost laughs as well. Van had to nudge her with her elbow. She might have been the only other Yellowjacket who sympathized with Melissa. When Melissa came out, Van was the one who helped her learn how to dress, how to feel comfortable now that she was no longer on the super feminine side of the spectrum. Sarcastic as she could be, Van actually liked Melissa.

It was ironic.

Melissa’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She would rather not relive one of the top ten most embarrassing moments of her life if she could help it. “Fuck you. You don’t scare me. None of you fucking scare me! You act like pretending that the rest of us don’t exist makes you a bunch of god damned kings, but it doesn’t! We’re still real people too! I’m still real, and I’m not going to keep taking shit off of you!”

Silence followed for a long moment. Nat snickered, then smirked. “Maybe you should be scared of me, Pissy Pants. Cause you aren’t taking my girl.” Natalie was usually so kind, so understanding, that this wasn’t like her. Sure, she was a little rough around the edges, but you couldn’t remember a single time where Nat was unnecessarily mean. This meant that Melissa had clearly stricken a nerve, which you guessed was fair. What happened next, though, was decidedly not fair.

Melissa had had enough. She’d had enough of fading into the background, enough of being made a fool of. She didn’t want to be a main character in this fucked up story, not really. But she didn’t want to keep quietly existing either. She had feelings. She was real. She existed! With a growl that would put even a tiger to shame, she rushed and launched herself at Nat. The thud that followed them both hitting the ground was so brutal that even you cringed. You were just barely able to get out of the way before the two girls began thrashing and rolling around, cussing each other to hell and back.

“Stop it!”, you shouted at the top of your lungs. “Stop it, both of you!” But your pleas went overhead, even though the music was significantly lower than it had been before. All eyes were on you. “Guys, can you please just knock it off?” You tried to break them apart until you caught an elbow to the face. You don’t know whose, but it decked you so hard that you staggered back and everything got quiet again. Even Melissa and Natalie were looking at you, wide eyed and shocked. Your nose felt all warm and tingly, so you reached up and gently touched your nose. Blood. You stared at the crimson liquid for a moment before shaking your head. “Oh, fuck this!”, you exclaimed bitterly before storming off.

Nat winced and detangled herself from Melissa. “Babe, wait, please-!”

Misty quickly grabbed Nat by the elbow, giving her a nervous smile. Misty Quigley, though a weird little loner, was one of the few people in the world that Nat actually liked and trusted. Although, she did love and care for all her teammates in some way. Misty was just different. Good different. “Just let her go, Nat. It’s Lottie’s house. What was the worst that could happen, right?”

So, you stormed off to the main house to get yourself together. You were in one of the Matthews’ many bathrooms with the sink running while you tried to clean yourself up. There was a knock at the door and then Melissa stuck her head in with an awkward, goofy smile. “Hey. I brought you some ice”, she awkwardly, nervously, holding up a small ziploc bag with ice in it. “I’m really sorry about-”

“Melissa, what the fuck was that?!”, you interrupted in pure astonishment. “You’re picking fights with Nat now?”

“I would say she picked a fight with me first”, Melissa murmured as she stepped fully into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. “She provoked me.”

“After you kissed me”, you muttered. It wasn’t accusatory. It was just a simple statement, the fact of the matter if you will. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I wanted to”, Melissa said, as if that was obvious. “I’ve always wanted to.”

“‘Because I wanted to’ is not a good enough explanation on randomly kissing your best friend at a party in front of her girlfriend”, you said flatly. This night had already caused you far more trouble than it was worth. Why couldn’t your life just be boring?

“It was the only way I could think of to get you to notice how I felt”, Melissa said quietly. “You see me, but you don’t always really see me. And I think… I think part of me likes having someone to revolve around. Like it makes me feel better about myself somehow. But I still… I still wanted you to notice. And you never did, because I’m not one of them.”

“One of who?”, you asked in confusion. “Melissa, you’re a Yellowjacket too!”

“But not in the way that you are!”, Melissa shouted, her frustration boiling over. “Not in the way that they are. You’re all, like, this tight knit little group that the rest of us can never reach. And you never even notice the rest of us, because you all date inside that group like an incestuous little family.”

“We do not-”

“Jackie and Shauna. Tai and Van. Lottie and Laura Lee”, Melissa listed off. “Hell, Crystal barely even existed until Misty started dating her. We don’t exist to you guys until one of you speaks to us. And the only reason you know that I exist is because we were friends before all this!”

“That’s not true.” Your face heats in indignation and a touch of embarassment. Was Melissa right? Were you and your friends all selfish, self centered assholes who didn’t acknowledge your fellow teammates until you had a reason to? No, surely not. Allie wasn’t part of the friend group, and- You inwardly cringed. And none of you tried to talk Tai out of her plan to freeze Allie out, which ended with the jv girl getting seriously hurt. Sure, some of you didn’t want to participate in Tai’s friends, but you didn’t try to stop her, did you? God, maybe you really are self centered assholes. “Don’t bring Laura Lee into this. She and Lottie deserve to be happy, really happy. You know their parents tried to convert them, and-”

“Did you know that Crystal’s real name isn’t even Crystal?”, Melissa interrupts. “It’s Kristen. You all got it wrong, and she never corrected you after she got nicknamed ‘Crystal the Pistol’, because she wanted to fit in. Or did you know that Robin cries so much because she wants to cry for her mom, except there is no mom to cry out for because her mom died. Or hell, did you even know that Gen is allergic to peanuts?”

It felt like way too much information all at once. “Crystal - Kristen - why would she - what?”, you stammered out. Because, unfortunately for you, you just couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that one of your teammates would lie about who she was. Weren’t you a safe enough space for a girl to at least correct you all on her name? “Robin’s mom… I didn’t…” And then, you think about Gen, which might be totally random, but what the fuck? “Why didn’t Gen say anything yesterday when I brought peanut butter cookies for everyone?” And then you were pouting, which only further proved Melissa’s point on how easily the main group got sidetracked when it came to your less interesting teammates. “I worked really hard on those cookies, man. I would’ve made something she could actually eat.”

“I dunno. She probably just didn’t want to hurt your feelings”, Melissa huffed.

You were silent for a moment. “...Did she eat the cookie?”

Melissa threw her hands up in exasperation. “It doesn’t matter whether or not she ate the god damned cookie!”

“I mean, it kinda does. She could’ve gotten really sick”, you mumbled. “I don’t want to be the reason she’s sick.”

“She probably gave it away. I get that you all think we’re dumb, but she wasn’t going to poison herself to make you happy”, Melissa scoffed bitterly. “You know what, never mind. Fuck this.”

“That’s not what I-” Your eyes widened a little as Melissa opened the door to leave. For what it was worth, you weren’t actually implying that Gen would have eaten that cookie just to spare you. You were only wondering what became of it, because you felt bad for giving it to her in the first place. You didn’t even think to check with Coach Martinez to see if any of your teammates were allergic to anything. You only knew that your friends weren’t, and fuck everyone else, huh? You groaned. You might have actually been a jerk. “Melissa, wait!”

You rushed after her, but the crowd had already swallowed you both whole and you couldn’t even see the top of her head. Panic swelled within your chest. You searched desperately for Melissa, but then a calloused hand caught your wrist. Nat. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You looked for Melissa once more, but still didn’t see anything. You practically deflated. “Nothing, I was just…” You weren’t sure what else to say. “My nose hurts. I couldn’t find my way to the kitchen for more ice.”

Nat’s gaze softened. “C’mere, princess. Let me look at you”, she said, guiding you away. You looked over your shoulder, but Melissa was still nowhere to be seen.

Later that night, you and Nat were making out in the backseat of your car. Typical Friday night, really. You were straddling her lap, her hands finding purchase on the small sliver of skin between your shirt and the band of your bottoms. It was all so familiar - the pressure of her hands, the squeak of the leather seats beneath your knees, the smearing of the fog on the window as your hand slipped down it. Nat knew all the right ways to touch you. She knew every place to caress in a way that would make you sing. She loved you. It was perfect. Normal. The usual thing that you expected.

So, why did it all feel so wrong?

You were thinking of Melissa, and that fact was driving you crazy. You weren’t even sure why. But you couldn’t help but to wonder if she was right. Were you only dating Nat because she was in the inner circle and you had never even thought of looking outside that? You loved Nat, but were you in love with her?

“Hey, um, actually, I don’t think I’m in the mood tonight”, you said softly, a little breathless.

Nat furrowed her brows in confusion. She hated to admit it, but she associated love with the physical aspect. She had reduced herself only to what her body was worth. So, when you wanted to stop, it felt like she had just been shot. But finally, finally, she nodded. “Yeah, okay, we don’t have to do this. We can just… talk.”

You gave Nat a sad smile. You didn’t want to just ditch her. That would be a little heartless. “Yeah, okay. We can just talk”, you agreed.

Natalie sat for a second, drumming her fingers against her thigh as she tried to think of something to say. “Did you know that Travis is dating Akilah?”, she blurted out.

You blinked before snorting. “Somehow, that makes no sense and perfect sense all at the same time.”

You and Nat sat in your car for hours, and then you dropped her off at Lottie’s, because she was still haunted by the idea of being at home. After that, you drove to Melissa’s house. You didn’t know why you did it. She probably didn’t want to see you. You drummed your fingers against your steering wheel, watched as she turned out every light in her room except for one single lamp. Definitely didn’t want to see you. But you wanted to see her. You needed to talk about… whatever the hell was going on between you tonight.

So, you scaled the siding of her house and climbed in through her window anyway. Melissa groaned the moment you landed with a thud on the carpet of her room. She was standing there in just a sports bra and boxers. Any other person seeing her like this would have made her embarrassed, but this wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen a thousand times before. “I knew I should have locked that stupid window.”

“You know, you’ve been doing a lot of talking today”, you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall. You’d seen these same forest green walls a million-and-one times. Forest green with large, pink leaves. “And you’ve been extra sassy.”

Melissa shrugged. “Maybe I’m just ready to be one of you now after all. Isn’t that what you do? Bitch at each other and then forgive each other?” You parted your lips to speak, but then quickly closed them. That was kind of what it was like. “You know, I thought I was ready to live my whole life in the shadows. I thought I could do it. But I don’t know if that’s really what I want anymore. I don’t like being seen. I want a quiet, boring life without a bunch of parties, or secrets, or lies, or drama. I want to meet a girl, and fall in love, and watch her walk down the aisle to me and know that she’s not thinking of someone else or wishing I was someone else. But I also don’t want to live my life being forgotten or an afterthought, or…”

Your gaze softened. “Melissa, you could never be an afterthought. And I would never forget you. It would be impossible to forget you.”

“But you never even considered me”, Melissa said quietly. “You just chose a girl who was, I don’t know, adjacent to me, but, I dunno, better? What does she have that I don’t?”

“It’s not about you lacking something or her having something”, you explained quickly. “It’s about feelings and - and - you’re my best friend.”

“Because I’m your best friend, you can’t ever fall in love with me?”, Melissa questioned. “Not even a little?”

“That’s not what I said”, you said quietly.

“I know you better than anyone else”, Melissa pointed out. “I know what your favorite color is. I know what time you take your meds everyday. I know - I know that you stopped needing an inhaler ages ago, but I still carry one on me just in case. I know what foods you love, and which ones you hate. Your favorite movies, what you sound like when you’re really laughing. So, why… Why was it never me?” She looked like she was on the verge of tears. You didn’t know what to say or do. But you knew that you hated watching the ocean in her eyes turn stormy. “Why was it never me?”

“It is you!”, you finally shouted, your head in your hands. “It was always you, okay? But it can’t - we can’t - it would change everything. It might ruin our friendship, and I-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Before you could even think of saying anything else, Melissa had crossed the floor and kissed you again. Except this kiss lacked the innocence, the shyness, of your first kiss. It was passionate and hot and heavy and you couldn’t quite keep up. Was this really Melissa? Your Melissa, who was usually so sweet and brilliant and shy, kissing you like you were seconds away from filming a god damned porno? Where the fuck had she learned this? Who taught her this? Was it Shauna? You know she’d had a thing with Shauna. A very, very brief fling with Shauna that was really only an attempt to make Jackie jealous. (It worked.)

Melissa pulled back from you, just barely, as she began backing you towards her bed. She was a little breathless, her lips swollen from the kiss. “Whatever you’re thinking about, I need you to stop thinking about it. Think about me, please.”

You try. You try to put Natalie out of your mind. You try to stop wondering who taught your best friend to fuck like a god. But the little nagging voice in your head reminded you that this was wrong. That you had a girlfriend waiting for you. A wonderful, loving girlfriend. “But Natalie-”

“No”, Melissa said in frustration as she pushed you down onto the bed. Her voice was stern, lips pressed into a thin line. “Just… think of me for once, okay? Just think of me”, she whispered. You didn’t protest again. Would it really be so bad for you to have this? Just once? Melissa trailed open mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, occasionally biting at the soft skin. At the same time, one of her hands trailed into the band of your pants. She didn’t move into your panties just yet. Instead, her fingers trailed downward, knuckles brushing over the dampness in the lace. “Is this for her or for me?” She looked directly in your eyes as she asked the question, her knuckles moving in slow circles.

You didn’t want to admit it. The word felt acrid on your lips. But you couldn’t manage to lie. “You”, you admitted quietly.

It seemed that that was all Melissa needed to hear. She finally slipped her hand into the band of your underwear, her fingers toying with your swollen clit until your breath catches in your throat and you’re whining, begging, for her to do something. Anything. You should have expected this. Even in friendly situations, Melissa always liked to tease you. She watched you squirm beneath her, listened to you plead for her, before finally gliding her fingers through your soft folds. Her fingers traced soft circles, teasing along the edge as if she had nothing better to do, before finally pushing a finger into your wetness. She’d never admit it out loud, but Melissa was still getting used to the intimacy part of being with girls. That meant she was also getting used to the way every girl felt a little different inside. Barely noticeable, maybe, but different all the same. You were tight, and warm, and so wet that it felt like extra slippery silk and Melissa might lose her mind over it.

She groaned, pushed in another finger. She watched your face - every twitch of your brow, the way your teeth sank into your bottom lip. That was encouragement, right? She pushed her fingers as deep as she could possibly get them, buried within you to the second knuckle. She moved slowly still, her eyes still watching your face. She wanted to learn your every response, every movement that made your breath hitch or your eyes flutter.

Your back arched the moment Melissa’s fingers started their slow, pleasurable torment against the damp heat of your skin. Every movement was tender and slow, but deliberate. Each stroke of your sensitive nerves like a question rather than a command. The words ‘do you like this?’ seemed to hang in the air without actually being said out loud. A strangled moan clawed its way up Melissa’s throat. She was enjoying this more than she ever thought possible. It was like she felt everything and nothing all at once. How wet you were, how her fingers were slick with the evidence of your neediness. The heat between the two of you pulsed like a heartbeat, almost palpable. Each stroke dragged a moan from you, each curl of her fingers against that particularly squishy, sensitive spot inside of you dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

You weren’t even sure what to focus on now - the intense look on her face? The flex of the muscles in her arm, the one that’s right next to your head, propping her up while she focuses so intently on pleasuring you. She wanted - needed - to make you feel good. Needed to take full advantage of this one, beautiful moment. She curled her fingers just right, right against the spot that made your legs tremble, over and over again. Your eyes met and, for a brief second, the air between you buzzed with something that ran far deeper than lust. Love. Affection. It was like trust made tangible. You pressed your hips forward, answering a silent question. Melissa’s thin lips curved up into a smile, a small one, before her fingers started moving again - deliberate and slow, like she already knew exactly how to unmake you.

It wasn’t just the way her fingers moved inside you, it was the way she whispered your name like it meant something sacred. This was more than just touch for her.

Melissa’s fingers picked up speed, just enough to bring you closer to the edge. Your breath stuttered, lips parted in a silent moan as Melissa’s fingers worked you deeper. It was like she was intent on torturing you, alternating between slow and deep and fast and hard. You both hated it and loved it at the same time. Every thrust was drawing you closer and closer to crescendo and you felt like you might burst. You blinked as your vision blurred around the edges. You reached up blindly with both hands, finding Melissa’s face, and pulling her into a kiss that was more like a cry - raw, desperate, real. Your mouths collided, hungry and uneven - teeth grazing, breaths mingling. You kissed her like you were trying to hold her together and unravel her all at the same time. It was that kiss, full of fire and passion and something dangerously close to love - that sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, the sound of her name muffled by the kiss. But you sobbed, too.

Because you knew that there was no going back from what you had just done.

#melissa yellowjackets #yellowjackets #yellowjackets melissa #melissa hat #yj melissa #melissa x reader #melissa hat x reader #yellowjackets x reader #honeyrotsoul

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11rosebunny · 2 days ago

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POSSESSIVE FREAK | Don Lorenzo x Fem!Reader

summary… Lorenzo can not comprehend what genre of feelings he has for you, debating on it being platonic or romantic. Despite the fact, he has trouble understanding the bubbling emotions of rage that engulfed his body the moment he saw Oliver make a move on you. Without much thinking, he came to a simple conclusion: you are his.

warnings… smut, p in v, jealous!lornezo, possessive!lorenzo, swearing, slightly mean!lorenzo, degrading, rough sex, overstimulation, swearing, drool, spit, hair pulling, public sex (you don’t get caught), drinking (alcohol)

word count… 3.2k

a/n… i’m doing good anon! just on a scrunched time bc my exams are coming up haha… also i am accepting requests at the time, they may come a bit late but i do try my best to get them done!

He honestly doesn’t have a clue as to why Snuffy needed to hire a manager for the UBERS. In fact, he irrationally thought that his coach must have been pissing on him at this point because he managed to hire a female manager that was around his age as well. Lorenzo knows himself enough to know that he would never try making a move on their precious manager—unlike Oliver and Sendou who had mad a bet to see which one of them could hit first.

Sure, he loves money and more importantly spending it by going to clubs day in and day out, throwing euro bills at women that were twice his age, and spending loads on private booths, and anything he could ever think of. Although he is still tacky for quickly finding a random stranger he just met attractive, he also knew he couldn’t pull anyone with his looks—a bit harsh in himself but at least he knew the truth.

But still, even a reckless person like him would have some decency to not go running after his sports team manager like a loose dog chasing after a rabbit. Sure he knew you were cute, hell—he even thought you were such an eye sore whenever he caught himself flickering his eyes from your lips each time you spoke to him.

Too bad he couldn’t tell what he was feeling. He couldn’t tell if it was the way you looked, being the smallest at out of everyone due to their height of a giant making you look small under his gaze. Or perhaps it was the way you shy away from him the most, he even knew that his looks was the least approachable and had no problem about it. He couldn’t even count on his fingers how many women had scurried away from him when they had caught his eye, but yet—you never ran. Maybe you were just an idiot he thought, he knew he was the type to catch feelings quite easily, and when he did—the person whom he liked would turn him down in seconds. But you never did, why?

You’d talk to him so nicely, so perfectly that he tries to hide the fact that something may be bubbling inside of him every time you hand him his freshly refilled water bottle and cold towel after practice. The way his eyes linger for a little bit longer than he means to when you walk away, capturing the movement of your back legs switching to the other so seductively—you had to be doing this on purpose. The others were infatuated with you as well, during locker room changing sessions you had managed to even bubble up in their conversations from time to time.

“Do ya think she’s seein’ anyone?” Oliver questioned out loud taking off his drenched shirt and reaching for a clean one in his locker.

Sendou let out an airy laugh, “Like hell. You see the way she talks to us? It’s obvious she hasn’t have a clue about anything.”

“Yeah?” Oliver returned a shit-eating smirk, “Let’s see who can get into her pants first then? Hm?”

He didn’t even mean to try to look out for you. Everyone had heard the two obnoxious males conversation that day and ever since then, everyone has been noticing their antics which made your presence the much more obvious to Lorenzo. You came to your senses eventually that something was up with the two womanizers, and each time you did—Lorenzo had managed to become your safe haven. It wasn’t even intentional the first time he dragged you away from them, when he noticed you were clearly uncomfortable with Aiku’s flirting, the lanky-tall male had snuck up behind you, draped his lean arm around your neck and crouched down to your height level.

“Hey Aiku, why doncha help King over there with his goals, dah?” He slurred on his words with a stupid smirk. Your face had grew heated when the other male had rolled his eyes playfully followed by a reply—

“Alright, alright. But don’t go playing with my food now, Lorenzo.” And winked before leaving.

Since that day, he regrets every trying to play the hero and coming to save you. It wasn’t that you were annoying, or a nuisance to his life, or that he hates you—it was none of that, he had to be absolutely insane if it any of those were the reason’s why he felt frustration pour out of his body whenever you came around him. You were such a treat to the eye, he couldn’t help but to stare at you longingly for God knows how long. He was sure he was going to lose it one day, and now that you had chosen him as your safe person, it was even worse when he tried hiding his oozing need for you.

Oliver didn’t make it much better either, in fact—a small part of him seethed the sight of his stupid blonde highlights whenever he captured them in the corner of his eyes. Only a little though. It was only when he’d catch him talking to you.

Fuck would it drive him insane. Lorenzo could be doing anything during those moments, re-tying his football shoes for a better grip, swiping a towel across his forehead that was given by you during the ten minute break, and across from him—not even two metres away from where he sat on the bench was you, and Oliver.

He could hear the way Aiku’s voice slurred with sultry, could practically hear the desperation in his voice of wanting you in his sheets that held who knows how many women. However, this conversation was not any ordinary one. In all honesty, Lorenzo never intend to eavesdrop on others, but if he so happens to be around two people in the proximity of where he could hear their conversation—technically, it’s not eavesdropping.

“C’mon sweetheart? What do you mean ya can’t go out with me?” Oliver teased. His disparate eyes burned flames of ash into your figure as they travelled up and down. Taking in every curve and flaw of your body—keeping a count in his brain that; there were not many.

Lorenzo’s eyes now flickered to the scene playing right beside him, watching you clutch your clipboard tightly to your chest as you stood there uneasy from the sight of the man before you. Aiku’s body leaned in close with yours, his musky scent engulfing your mind as you uncomfortably backed away near the bench the same wavy-haired male sat on.

“I can’t—“ You almost stutter. Your eyes flickered away nervously and your nails scratched deeper into the wood. “I don’t really want to,” You admitted finally looking away.

In a swift moment, the purple eyed male could not believe what he just encountered. Almost as if Oliver was just fucking with him, the raven haired male took matters into his own hands. His veiny arm reached for your hip, the other lazily plastered on his own as he shoved your body into his, shocking you to the core. Then, his head dived down below his own frame and cocked his chin to the side.

“C’mon, a pretty girl like you oughta have some fun.”

Lorenzo’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. The others who were not paying attention to the scene were too busy doing their own thing. It honestly felt like to him that he was having this undying feeling of rage.

Almost on cue, Lorenzo stood up without thinking, already imagining how much of a fool he was looking at till Snuffy who had seen the scene interrupted the two before the wavy-haired male could even step in.

Two hands clasped on each of them.

“I think break time is over Oliver,” The blonde coach smiled with a condescending look at the other male. In an instant, Lorenzo felt a wave of relief.

The two of them had separated by the time Snuffy stepped in, Oliver walking away with his hands up in the air and smirking. You had backed away and excused yourself out of the indoor field to tend to your documents. He had witnessed the whole thing from the sidelines and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He watched you leave in a hurry, catching a glimpse of your heated face. Eyes never leaving your frame till the exit door slammed shut.

Why couldn’t he move?

It started to piss him off. That same scene replayed in his head over and over like a nightmare even though he never really dreamed of it. Curse Oliver for having the looks and charm for other women. Perhaps it was the fact he knew he could never be on par with the womanizer, but still. It made him realize it was you; you were his.

It had been a week after the incident and the team had gone out for a night to have drinks. It was an Italian bar. The blasting trashy 2000s Italian music, euro bills all over the floor, and tradition dishes were found on the menu. The place was packed with people around their age. It was a high end bar that costs a fortune to get in due to the popularity of every football player. The only odd one out was you.

You sat there stupidly drinking alcoholic drinks, listening to the others talk loudly. Throughout the whole night, Lorenzo did try having fun. It was natural to him, he usually went to bars like this on occasions. But you were here this time, and he could not keep his eyes off of you as if his life depended on it. Across from where you sat, his purple hues took in the features of your face with half lidded eyes. Holding a drink of whiskey in his hand barely focusing on it and rather focused on the way your eyes smiled each time you laughed, the small lick of your lips before you took a sip again, and when your eyes would dart to his after being caught staring at you.

Quickly, your eyes would shoot away embarrassingly. He could see it, even with the dark lights and flashing neon colours, you were nervous of his gaze.

But without, anytime to spare—Oliver had approached your figure first.

Enraged by this, that it’s happening a second time, he took matters into his own hands too.

“Looks like ya had some bit to drink tonight dah?” He pointed to the numerous empty glasses that sat in front of you. Lorenzo stood behind you from the chair you sat on, making his demeaning height all the more intimidating.

On your right, Oliver took the seat beside you, using his elbow to prop his head on his palm.

“Need me to help you sweets?” Aiku asked never taking his eyes off you.

Your body felt hot as you could feel the two men cave into your personal space. Maybe you were drunk which is why you couldn’t be bothered to shy away from either of them. You turned around, pretending to not hear Oliver to face the man behind you.

Looking up below Lorenzo through your lashes, you smiled obviously smitten for the drinks you’ve had to swallow.

“I guess,” You laughed quietly. He cocked his head to the side, draping his wavy curls on his shoulder.

“Thought I could handle it, but guess not,” You admitted still smiling.

“Ehh,” He smirked, showing his golden teeth. “Ya seem to be still with me,” he teased. Smoothly, his eyes wandered to the other male sitting beside you, as if he was rubbing it in his face that he got you first.

The blonde-highlighted haired man shrugged returning his gaze, shooting him a smug smile before pushing any buttons he could press, regardless if they were Lorenzo’s your yours.

Oliver’s hand then brushed up against your leg, caressing the soft flesh gently then chuckling at your facial expression turning flushed.

It was obvious to Lorenzo what the other male was doing to you, he was practically burning holes into Oliver before he too, wrapped around your waist making you jolt from the sudden touch.

“The fuck are ya doin?” His voice strained while threatening Aiku. He tried to keep his voice down so you wouldn’t hear, but with each second he kept rubbing your leg hitching it higher and higher till it reached your thigh—he couldn’t care less if he made a scene.

“M’ just pamperin’ my girl,” He mocked. Lorenzo shot him a look of shock, unbelievable is what he was thinking at the other male. He could not stand another second more of his stupid charms that he was using on you. You remained silent as you heard the two arguing till the male behind you was the first to break it.

Trying his best to be gentle with you, he dragged you off the chair you sat on and held you close to his heated body that was filled with rage.

“C’mon. We’re goin’ to the restroom, ok?”

The washroom never felt smaller than you felt in this exact moment. With Lorenzo helping you find your way to the restrooms, you could feel your body grow 10x more hotter when he shoved you in. You thought something was possessing you in that moment as you stood in front of the mirror leaning on the sink. It was almost cruel the way Lorenzo stood behind you once again, but this time his arm was wrapped around your hip securing you from melting to the floor and the other hand placed on your waist.

“Enzo—“ You called out his name mesmerized at the way he roughly pressed against your core.

“Shut yer mouth,” He squeezed your hip tighter, obviously still heated from the conflict that happened a few minutes ago.

The image of you helplessly under Lorenzo’s wrath made your stomach knot, the way his body loomed over yours burned into your head. He leaned down to whisper in your ear while keeping his eyes on you through the mirror that stood in front of you.

“Yer my girl, ok?” He claimed.

You nodded, dazed by the growing heat between your legs.

And without time to spare, one thing led to another.

His hips slammed into yours that sent hearts bursting in your eyes. The feeling of his full length intruding your gooey insides made you shriek his name out loud. Both his hands gripped the flesh of you hips tight to make sure he’d leave marks on your skin. Your panties hung loose around your ankles as you struggled to keep your figure up from falling.

“Ffuck,” He groaned at the way your pussy engulfed his dick.

“Oh my gosh,” You whispered entranced at the way he moved his hips, pulling out slowly before slamming back down on you.

“See what happens when ya keep pissin’ me off? See where it—Ugh“ He let out a strained groan, “Gets ya?” He hummed questioning you.

You could barely focus on your senses as you kept your eyes in the mirror where he began to quicken his thrusts. Lorenzo glued his eyes onto yours, smirking when he realized you were also looking back at him.

“Love gettin’ fucked by a freak?” He teased slamming harder into you to get out an answer.

A loud moan escaped your lips as drool began to build up in your mouth from the sheer pleasure he inflicted on you. “You’-re, n-not a—“ At that moment, he pounded into your insides, leaving you gushing out your juices.

“Hyah!” You screamed before he began pistoning his hips reaching the deepest he could reach inside of you. You began to moan out his name the quicker her slammed his hips into yours, your ass rippling each time he penetrated your pussy.

Roughly, Lorenzo bunched up your hair in his hand then pulled it back so you could see the clear view of you getting fucked relentlessly with his dick.

“Open,” His fingers pried on your lips before sticking two fingers inside. A smile plastered on his face, never getting enough of your helpless figure.

“Shit, yer such a fucking slut.”

Drool began to coat his two fingers as you could feel him playing with your tongue. “Shit, yer driving me crazy—“ He leaned down placing chaste kisses over your exposed neck.

He then removed his fingers coated in your saliva to rub at your clit and then removed his hand from your hair back to your hip. The moister of your juices and drool acted as lube when he felt you tighten on his dick.

“Ya don’t mind if I shoot my load in yer pussy, right?” Lorenzo uttered. “Too dumb fucked to even care hah?”

“W-what?” Your eyes widen at the thought of his cum dripping down your hole.

“Yer gonna be my good girl and take it all, ok?” He grunted, thrusting deeper into your core. Your legs began to shake as you felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter, like a dam about to burst.

“No, I c-ant!” You babbled.

“Fuck!” He yelled shoving his slamming your hips into yours, rubbing your clit faster as you began to compluse under him.

“Enzo!” You screamed.

Your juices squirted on his hard dick that nestled deep inside you. You could feel the thick ropes of his cum shoot inside the deepest part in your holes, your walls gripping him tighter ever than before. Lorenzo let out a series of strained moans before completely coming to a stop.

“Fuck, yer pussy is so good,” He gasped before giving you a few more gentle thrusts as if to shove his cum down deeper into your pussy.

Once he was fully drained in your hole, he began to plaster sweet kisses all of your neck, to your shoulder, and eventually your back. It almost felt like he was making up for how rough he was just a few seconds ago. Your breath became shallow as you tried regaining back your strength, watching him caress your skin like a goddess in the mirror—still keeping his dick nestled in your warm insides.

“Mm,” You moaned, Lorenzo still placing kisses all over your body. Your ass pressed up against his abdomen shyly, feeling his dick twitch from the sudden movement.

“Don’t try temptin’ me with another round.”

You giggled at his empty threat, at least you hoped it was empty. Your hair was disheveled, hickies lithered on your neck and bruises of Lorenzo’s hand prints were embroidered into your skin. Each of your sweaty bodies created moisture in the air, it smelled of pure unadulterated sex.

“Look so pretty,” He said your name, rubbing his hands to soothe the bruises he left.

“Thank you, Lorenzo,” You told him.

Then, he gently took your chin in your hand and placed his soft lips onto yours, feeling accomplished that you were his.

“Mine, yer all mine, ok?” He smiled staring back deep into your beautiful gaze.

please do not copy or translate my work, thank you!

#bluelock #bluelock x reader #bluelock smut #bluelock x reader smut #don lorenzo #don lorenzo x reader smut #don lorenzo smut #don lorenzo x reader #oliver x reader #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #oliver smut #oliver aiku x reader smut

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sadeeeeee · 12 hours ago

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Hold Me Please

Angst with some comfort throughout

Pure fluff by the end

Established Relationships

(A little self-indulgent after a really bad day)

Warnings- one moment of swearing, mentions of depression, mental health and not feeling like enough

Synopsis- Chris comes over to check on you after you haven't been answering all day. He comes to find out just how bad things have been getting for you and comforts you through the storm in your head.

I lay my head up against the windowpane, watching the raindrops fall some faster than others and some slower almost like even the rains trying taunt me. This battle called life if you aren't deemed successful by a certain time by people who don't even matter - or maybe they do that's the worst part... you'll end up feeling like a failure. A feeling I know all too well now at this point.

I give a heavy sigh as I watch my phone light up with another message from Chris. I wanna answer back but every part of my body is exhausted. I don't even feel alive anymore at this point. I can't even bring myself to see what the message even said hence my surprise to hear knocking at my door and a very sweet familiar voice echo through my apartment.

"Baby it's me... I came to check on you I was getting worried since you haven't answered all day".

I begrudgingly get up and make my way down the hall to my front door I open the door just a crack to be met with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes no - worried eyes is all I can see. My heart aches knowing I made him so worried all day.

"Hey baby can I come in, I'm worried about you"?

I open the door wider and let him in. He places the bags he brought with him on my kitchen counter. He starts talking with his back turned emptying everything from each of the bags. "I thought maybe you were sick or something, so I got you some medicine and some of your fav-. As he turns around, he cuts himself off when he sees the tears brimming my already red eyes, I'm sure.

"Hey hey what's the matter what's going on" he asks calmly but with an obvious edge of concern. I struggle to get any words out every bad thought and past failures cone rushing to me all at once causing me to breakdown completely. He gently grabs me and holds on tightly. He wraps a hand around my waist squeezing tightly and places his other hand on the back of my head. Gently he sways us back and forth letting me cry into his shirt for who knows how long.

After some time, I stop crying and he pulls back just enough to see my face. "You wanna talk about it, you can tell me what's going on you know that". I pull away and walk over to the couch he follows after and sits close but close enough to still give me space.

"I don't even know where to start". "That's ok take your time I'm not going anywhere" he says as he gently takes hold of my hand.

I feel so lost like every day I'm just... here not even existing but, I try so hard to do everything right, but nothing ever feels like enough. Nothings ever enough for anyone. I feel like a failure I see everyone doing big things accomplishing so much I can't help but feel like somethings wrong with me. He listens intently and holds on to my every word. He doesn't speak not until I'm done, he always just listens always letting me be heard. "Every day just feels the same like I wake up with no purpose I'm just so tired Chris I don't know what to do anymore.

He looks into my eyes really looks at me like he's trying to memorize every part of my face before speaking up. "You don't have to have all your shit together". "Everyone feels like this at one point or another I know it may not feel like it but, its true". "Know that you have purpose, you're wanted and loved by so many". Now it's my turn to hold on to his every word. Each word feels like a tug on my heart like I'm closer to a fresh breath.

"There's a lot of loud noises but there's always a moment of calm or silence that can pull you out and that calm can be anything". "And when things feel like too much know, you can always call me I'll be there to help anyway I can even if it means just sitting with you in silence, I'll always be here for you baby". "I want you to know that you're not a failure far from it you're doing things at your own pace and that's ok there's no rule book to life - no guide on how to get everything right". He looks at me with somber eyes ones that hold pain but he's holding back wanting to make sure I'm ok.

There's this sinister semblance I've been indulging in. Not on purpose it's just how I've been living what I've always seen maybe I can pull away from it now slowly but surely. Maybe one day.

I look back up at him and fall into his touch. He immediately holds me impossibly closer, and he holds on tight - like if he were to let go, I'd wither away right then and there. "I just want to be happy, but I don't know how anymore". "It's ok we're not gonna be happy every day and know that's it's ok to not be happy or ok, it's ok to express those feelings too". "I'll be with you through every step helping you until you can feel content and happy again".

He kisses my temple so softly it's almost as if he didn't at all. He hugs me tighter and rubs my back in slow circles. We sit in each other's arms for the rest of the night. He said he wasn't going anywhere, and he meant it.

"I love you and you'll always be enough for me baby always remember that and if you ever forget I'll still be right here to remind you time after time.

There's almost like a break of air in the room like before he speaks up again in a whisper like if he speaks to loudly the world will crumble around us.

"You don't know how much you mean to me" he says while kissing all over my face. I crack a small smile, and he cracks one in return. He kisses the corner of my lips and whispers in between "this smile is what keeps me going so I'll do whatever it takes to keep it" he says with warm eyes and the softest smile.

I hug him back softly and bury my face in his neck and give a soft sigh. Not out of sadness or anxiety but because I know that even when I get my lowest I have him to pull out of that dark hole every time.

───✰✰✰✰✰─────✰✰✰✰✰──────✰✰✰✰✰─────

(A bit of a sad one, was feeling pretty bad last yesterday so thought I'd write it out in hopes of bringing myself some comfort. I don't know how I feel about this one but if you're feeling like this, I hope this could help in some way. Hope you all who reads this enjoy thank you for reading!!!)

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #chan skz #skz chan x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #bangchan angst

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wanderingxrivers · 9 months ago

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I've done it! I have a finished object! Finally seamed together the panels for the Peek A Boo Tee (https://www.kniftyknittings.com/the-peek-a-boo-tee-free-pattern/) just in time to wear it for mandatory fun at my job in a couple of weeks. Slowly bit surely working my way through all my WIPs so I can cast on even more things.

#wanderingxrivers knits #knitting #finished object #knitblr #knitwear #handmade #there are so many swear words in this shirt #i stg #but its done!

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exopelagic · 1 year ago

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i said i wouldn’t do it this time but it’s 3am and mods asleep. boy

#welcome to another episode of Luke is insane abt hockey boy!#this time featuring a guy who is actually this time almost (ALMOST) confirmed to be queer #the almost is partly me being insane because I don’t trust anything anymore #but like. there are only so many reasons you wear pride converse. that is not ally behaviour #it just threw me this time I think bc I’d been like no. heterosexual. bc I think I became aware of him when he joined the real hockey team #because the OTHER problem is that the whole time I’d been thinking he was cute as hell (bc he is) and simultaneously being like no. bad.#anyway this meant that I have actually talked to him a bunch without overthinking it this term which honestly has been very cool #not like a whole lot but we’ve played together a decent amount and hopefully will keep doing that #and yesterday discovered hes recommending other people talk to me abt goalieing which is insane to me bc I am truly not that good #but apparently I made an impression!#anyway it does not help that this guy has gotten incredibly good at hockey in the past few months #idk man I make bad decisions (I say as if this was a decision) bc it is now the end of term once again <3 #which means absolutely nothing can or will happen until after summer. which isn’t an issue #I’m just frustrated by my tendency to realise these things right before I’m about to not see the guy for X period of time #I also desperately need to stop crushing on hockey boys I swear but in my defence that is the main way I meet people #I think I’m cursed actually. that would explain many things #anyway he also has exams until next Tuesday which means he’ll be at hockey next week but idk abt this week which is devastating #i just wanna have talk to the guy more honestly to see how that goes bc we’ve not rlly talked individually for an extended time yknow.#in other words we have not had A Conversation it’s been groups or like quicker exchanges #he’s kinda quiet but i can’t quite tell which way yknow. I know he’s Watching basically all the time. and he is slightly awkward #which is also kinda cute. he gets a lil rambly when he talks abt hockey and I wanna push that button more #i. topsy if you’re reading this you’re gonna laugh so hard I just realised. he’s captain of the team now.#which sidenote is INSANE bc he started playing with them THIS YEAR #but oh my god. okay.#anyway. I need to start complimenting guys more for multiple reasons but also #1. he dresses very cool 2. he caught me looking at his shirt last week without saying anything (BEFORE I caught the rainbow converse)#i compliment women on their clothes and jewellery and hair and shit all the time but I do not with men bc. I mean do I need to explain.#but this is so unfair I am haunted by existence of boy and here we are once again. posting on tumblr with the possibility of seeing him lik #two more times before summer. might be three or four depending on what he comes to #luke.txt

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artficlly · 3 months ago

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his girls [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x reader alpine barely tolerates anyone but bucky, so when she curls up in your lap without a second thought, the team is left reeling—especially when it leads to the not-so-subtle revelation that you and bucky have been sneaking around for months.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, alpine is a troublemaker, secret dating, swearing, kissing, alcohol, tony knows all, natasha too, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: hello! once again a fic no one asked for lol. i'm supposed to be on hiatus buuut i took some time this afternoon to write this because i'm procrastinating a uni assignment. i'm sure this concept has been done before, but i was thinking about that scene in rivals with the dog (iykyk) and yeah! step away from the usual angst and heartbreak i normally provide you all with. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You were careful.

Or at least, you thought you were careful.

For months, you and Bucky had kept your relationship under wraps. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from the team, but there was something thrilling about stolen moments and hushed conversations. About Bucky’s hand on the small of your back as he guided you through a crowded room, or the way he’d brush a kiss against your temple before disappearing down the hall.

You figured no one had noticed.

Until today.

It all started with one of many white hairs stuck to your t-shirt.

Natasha plucked it off you mid-conversation one morning in the kitchen while you were praying—desperately—to whatever all-seeing god might finally make the coffee machine work faster. Between the groaning, spluttering sounds and the blinking lights, it felt like the damn thing was possessed. With flawlessly manicured nails, Natasha held the hair up to the morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the compound.

“Is this Alpine’s fur?” she mused aloud, twirling the long, pale strand between her fingers.

“Probably.” you replied absently, more concerned with the coffee machine’s latest refusal to cooperate. You jabbed the buttons harder, ignoring the way Natasha’s eyes flickered with something dangerously close to amusement.

“For all of Tony’s money, you’d think we’d have a coffee machine that actually works,” you grumbled.

“Turn around?” Natasha asked. There was a particular lilt to her voice, that barely concealed intrigue she tried—and failed—to mask whenever she was onto something. It set you on edge instantly, the tone that meant she was clicking a mystery into place, giddy with excitement beneath a thin veil of indifference. You didn’t trust it for a second.

“No, just—” You smacked the machine in frustration. It whined pathetically before the lights blinked off entirely. You let out a long, exasperated groan. “Why won’t this stupid fucking thing ever work—”

“Jesus, you’re covered in it—”

You froze mid-motion as Natasha yanked at your shirt, effectively grooming you like a monkey. Her sharp lips had turned up into a wicked smirk, the type of smirk that made dread pool in your gut.

“Everything is covered in her fur,” you said quickly, still trying for casual. You reached for the plug, praying Natasha would drop it. “She sheds everywhere, especially on the couch.”

“Mm.” Natasha tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “And yet, I thought Tony hired cleaners for that? Especially with Kate always bringing Lucky around?”

You yanked the plug from the socket a little too forcefully. “Honestly, Nat, I don’t know. I just want this damn machine to work.”

Right on cue, a familiar voice rumbled behind you.

“Machine giving you trouble again?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest before resuming its normal rhythm—though maybe a little faster. You turned just as Bucky strolled in, looking frustratingly good despite the early hour. His hair was a little dishevelled, sleep still clinging to him in a way that made him look too soft for someone who could snap a man’s spine in half.

“There’s a trick to it, remember?” He stepped in close beside you, skin brushing yours as he reached for the machine. The scent of his aftershave lingered, warm and familiar. You tried—and failed—not to watch the way the muscles in his forearm tensed, veins shifting beneath his skin as he pressed a series of buttons.

“Barnes, you’ve got cat hair all over you,” Natasha noted, not even bothering to be subtle. You didn’t dare look at her. Instead, you busied yourself wringing your hands, pretending you weren’t hyper-aware of Bucky standing so damn close.

“Huh?” Bucky barely spared a glance at his shirt, where Alpine’s fur was unmistakably clinging to the fabric. “Oh. Yeah, guess I do. She always wants attention in the morning.”

Then, with one final smack, the machine roared to life. The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as liquid finally poured into your mug. You sighed in sheer relief.

“There you go,” Bucky said, looking down at you with a small smile, a few strands of dark hair falling across his forehead.

Your stomach did a stupid little flip. You smiled back, warmth creeping into your face. “Thanks.”

The machine beeped again, snapping you back to reality. You quickly grabbed the mug with both hands, muttered another thanks, and let Natasha tug you away.

“What was that?” She hissed, voice low as she turned to you with narrowed eyes.

“Huh?” You weren’t entirely listening to her words. You found yourself glancing over your shoulder, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. You could still see Bucky standing in the kitchen, both hands braced on the counter as he waited for his own coffee. His back was turned, but even through the thin material of his fur-covered t-shirt, you could see the way his muscles shifted beneath it—

Natasha didn’t even humour your innocence. She crossed her arms. “You and Barnes?”

“What about him?” You mumbled, pulling your gaze away as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open.

Her lips twitched, amusement clear. “Are you two—?”

You made a face at her. “What are you on about?”

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but she let it go.

For now.

As the elevator hummed and Bucky was cut from your view as the doors shut, you took a sip of coffee, the liquid a few degrees between too hot and burning. It scalded your tongue, and with the phantom smell of Bucky’s aftershave no longer haunting you, you felt your mind snap back into action.

Right. Focus.

“We’re going to be late for the meeting,” you declared, shaking your head. “And that damn machine is the reason. You know what? Let’s take a detour to Stark’s lab and demand a better one.”

Natasha chuckled, pressing the button for a different floor.

“I like the way you think.”

—

You knew Alpine would be your downfall.

The little white menace was notoriously selective. If you weren’t Bucky, she wanted nothing to do with you. Everyone at the compound had suffered her wrath at least once—Sam even had the scars to prove it. Alpine liked to play dangerous games that usually ended in blood or a yowl of pain. You swore the Avengers bled more dealing with the feline than fighting aliens, wizards, or whatever else tried to obliterate Earth every other week. She was a cunning little creature, lurking around corners, hiding under tables, prowling along bookshelves. And just when you least expected it—bam. Teeth and claws bared, she would pounce, latching on like a tiny, vengeful spectre. This was her idea of fun. The Avengers had learned to tread carefully, tip-toeing around the compound whenever they knew she wasn’t safely curled up in Bucky’s room, where she ruled with an iron paw.

So, when you sat down on the couch one evening, and Alpine immediately hopped onto your lap, you knew you were fucked.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t so much as sniff at you in consideration before curling right up, purring loud enough to be heard over the football game droning on in the background—which you were only half paying attention to.

You stiffened, caught between awe at the rare privilege and sheer dread at the witnesses currently gaping at you.

Bucky, for his part, had been sitting at the other end of the couch, flirting with danger in his usual way—stolen glances, conveniently placed touches as he shifted in place. Alpine, just as obsessed with him as you were (Bucky had taken to calling you both ‘his girls’ in private, which always managed to make you swoon.), had immediately perched in his lap when he sat down. Only when he carefully pried her off to grab another round of beers did the little white she-beast decide you were a worthy substitute, strutting over with lazy, languid confidence before settling down, blissfully unaware of what she had just unleashed.

The room fell into stunned silence. Several pairs of eyes locked onto you, breath collectively held. They were waiting for the yowl, for the inevitable attack, for you to tense up and leap to your feet in pain. But to your horror, the little sadist simply settled in. Cosy, unbothered, as if this had been the plan all along.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” Sam finally demanded, pointing an accusing finger.

You blinked down at Alpine, then up at Sam, stroking the soft fur like nothing was amiss. “Uh… a cat?”

You were foolish and desperate enough to pretend this was completely normal, to gaslight the others into believing Alpine was a perfectly gentle and affectionate cat. A sweet, loving companion. Not a tiny, vengeful menace who had terrorised them all—and definitely not a creature who had only warmed up to you in recent months because you spent more time in Bucky’s bed than your own.

“The same cat that tried to claw out my eyeball for getting too close? And now she’s just—” He gestured wildly at Alpine, who flicked her tail with the smugness of a queen on her throne. “—cuddling with you like you’re her best buddy?”

“She likes me, I guess.” You blinked innocently, turning back to the TV, hoping he would drop it, but Sam, ever the dramatic, was not satisfied.

“Are you kidding me? That cat has tried to kill me.”

Natasha snorted into her drink.

Alpine smugly licked her paw before resting her head upon your thigh and blinking her wide blue eyes at Sam, who shook his head with an exaggerated shudder. “This is bullshit, and you know it—”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Sam.” You huffed, scratching Alpine behind her ears. “She’s always been fine with me.”

“That is not true!”

“She took a chunk out of my arm once,” Natasha added, ever the instigator.

“Remember when I gave her a treat and she bit me?” Steve piped up.

Bucky returned at that moment, frowning as he saw the conversation unfolding before him. You turned to him with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading for help. Alpine, the little traitor, merely pressed her pink nose to your hand, rubbing her face against you with a contented sigh.

“She only likes people she’s comfortable with,” Bucky offered, setting the beers down with a clink, but his pitiful attempt to be helpful only added fuel to the fire.

The room exploded into a series of overlapping voices.

“I didn’t realise you spent so much time with Alpine?” Natasha’s sharp gaze flicked between you and Bucky, her smirk primed to taunt you both.

“Buck, doesn’t she spend all her time in your room—?” Steve leaned forward, forearms braced against his thighs, invested now.

Sam jolted upright like he’d just solved a murder case. “Now, hold on a second—”

“You have been covered in cat fur a lot lately,” Natasha mused. “And you two have been suspiciously close—”

As you glanced over at Bucky, you couldn’t tell if his repeated blunders were intentional or borne out of genuine panic. He cleared his throat, his brows raising as he casually popped off the cap of one of the beers with his vibranium thumb in faux nonchalance.

“Coincidence.” He muttered with a shrug, tipping back a mouthful of the brew.

Alpine, completely oblivious (or entirely aware of the chaos she’d caused), didn’t budge as Bucky sat back down beside you, levelling you with a look that screamed we are so screwed.

“You two aren’t even going to try to lie?” Natasha pressed.

“Lie about what?” You feigned innocence, but the act was flimsy at best. The jig was well and truly up.

Bucky, clearly done with this little charade, let out a long-suffering sigh that might’ve sounded exasperated if not for the telltale smirk tugging at his lips. Without another word, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you effortlessly against his chest, Alpine still coiled contentedly in your lap. The smug little she-beast didn’t even stir. She just purred loudly—too loudly, like she was taking credit for the entire thing.

“Wait a second!” Sam pointed a dramatic finger between the two of you. “How long has this been happening?”

“How long has what been happening?” Tony strolled into the room, a glass of amber liquid that looked suspiciously like whiskey in hand.

“Her,” Steve announced, gesturing between the both of you. “And Barnes.”

Tony didn’t even blink. “Oh, I already knew that. You didn’t know that?”

Bucky turned so fast you were surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. “You what?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony drawled, making himself comfortable on the armrest of the couch like this was all just another day at the office. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice her sneaking out of your room at ungodly hours for the past six months? F.R.I.D.A.Y. kept flagging intruders, and, shocker—it was just you two, utterly failing at stealth.”

Sam threw up his hands. “Did you say six months?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but instead of answering, he just turned to you and, without hesitation, kissed you.

It was sudden but warm, his lips soft against yours like he’d been waiting for an excuse. The room erupted into even more noise, Sam shouting something unintelligible, Natasha making a sound of smug satisfaction, and Steve groaning like he should’ve known, but it all faded into the background.

You laughed against Bucky’s lips, breathless but entirely unbothered. “This is definitely her fault.”

Alpine, still purring in your lap like the devious little mastermind she was, flicked her tail.

Bucky just hummed, brushing his nose against yours. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Not complaining, though.”

And, truthfully, neither were you.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #alpine #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel

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bejeweledinterludes · 3 months ago

Text

i was made for lovin' you.

OR after years of unsaid emotions, supressed feelings and goddamn urges— you and dean finally confront the thing you'd both been avoiding: how there's so much you wanna do in the darkness. and you're gonna make all come true. tonight.

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : dean winchester x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 5.6 k.

「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS LOOK AWAY !!!, lateish seasons (if you squint) dean winchester x reader's first time (not virgins though), unprotected (mostly) soft sex with feelings, feelings, feelings!, aka porn WITH plot!, p in v, handjob, dean being a munch ofc (this is canon. go argue with the wall.), swearing. please let me know if i missed anything!

𖤐 ────────────────────────

from the moment you first met dean winchester while working a case, you knew you wanted to fuck him.

which was a little strange, because you didn't think like that outright about too many men— not ones you knew in real life, anyway.

but here the stupid bastard was, with his annoyingly pretty face and those stupid, big, rough fightin' hands that could touch you everywhere, pull the prettiest sounds right from you—

oh, we're getting way too far ahead of ourselves. you shoved those thoughts away. come on, this was a freakin' case. lives were at stake.

and once the initial secret lust you had finally went away, you realized you were experiencing something much greater than some stupid crush on dean.

because the more hunted with him, you got to see not just the tough, hard-as-nails side of him— but you saw the other side.

his people side.

you got to see the way he interacted with every single person he encountered on a case, not resting until the threat was completely gone and ganked. and sometimes, when a case hit too close to home, he treated victims and affected family no less than his own fuckin' family.

and you knew from your own personal experience that he'd do just about damn near anything for the family he did have. saw the way he got all soft and sweet around kids— and after a good while, even around you.

and that's when you knew you were in trouble.

you'd known dean for years now. and nothing had ever come of you two except him being one of the greatest friends you'd ever had.

but god help you if you didn't want more.

and nothing like a quick fuck, either. no, you wanted to be there for everything— even on those deathly-quiet nights when dean's thoughts got too loud and the debilitating weight he was carrying all alone just got too heavy, you wanted to be the one keeping him afloat.

it was something dangerously close to love.

you tried to ignore it at first. push it down. and it did work-- for a while. until fucking dean started acting weird around you, too.

and now things were... complicated.

you didn't know exactly when things had shifted so much to the point that it almost became unbearable to even be in the same room as dean without either of you knowingly holding back just spilling your guts-- but god, it was worse than dying.

inevitably, one night, it all just snapped.

there was no dramatic fight, or screamed confessions from either of you. no, it happened late in the darkness, when you both were sharing a motel room.

which would have made you fond of all the times you guys had shared motel rooms in the past— you would've smiled at the thought of younger you trying to make the most out of the fact that you had to share a room with a fucking boy.

but dean was now much more of a man than ever before now.

thank god there's two separate beds, you initially thought.

now, though? there wasn't a need for two beds anymore.

because you still somehow ended up in dean's that was closest to the window.

in his lap.

and kissing him.

you were sure you were in just another one of your dreams or fantasies you conjured up to get off— but you could feel dean's hands on you through your shirt, grasping at the fabric. so this had to be real— but just for precaution, you roll your hips into dean's a little.

yeah. that sound he made when he grinds his hips up into your own was definitely real— and right in your mouth.

you knew you were probably moving too fast— but fuck if you cared. your hands sneak in between you both and trail downward on the front of dean's shirt, not stopping until you reach the hem— and your voice is a whisper against dean's kiss-swollen lips.

"arms up, de."

and dean obliges in a heartbeat, raising his arms up over his head immediately— and he's silently praising the fact he decided to just wear a t-shirt to bed.

you actually somehow had only seen dean shirtless once or twice over the years— the latest being last summer when the air conditioning in the bunker was broken, and you conveniently and hurriedly stated that you had to stay in your room the entire day—because it was so much more skin than you were used to seeing.

but now?

you're staring.

dean's looking at you looking at him— and if the motel room wasn't so dark, you could've sworn his face got a little pinker under your gaze.

but you don't dwell on that for too long. because your hands are itching to reach out and just touch— and the moment your fingers start to graze on dean's biceps first, his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a shaky exhale, fighting to keep himself under control.

because it's you that's touching him.

you're still touching him when you lean back and kiss his lips again— and dean is very aware of the fact that you still have your shirt on.

but you have to break the kiss after a while to get stupid air— and your hands are reluctantly taken off of dean's skin, much to his protest. but the words he was about to say die in his throat when he sees where your hands were going.

you grasp the hem of the oversized shirt you were wearing, tearing it over your head and discarding it in the same motion— all while you were silently thanking whatever had possessed you not to wear shorts to bed.

or a bra.

and now, dean thinks he might die.

it was his turn to stare, eyes raking and flicking over every inch of you as you're straddling his lap like he didn't know where to look first— and dean's just so in awe, he says what he was thinking out loud in a barely-audible.

"god, you're beautiful."

you can feel a blush burning your cheeks at dean's words-- and judging by the way his eyes widened ever so slightly when he uttered those words, you knew he meant it. you smile softly down at him, your voice just as quiet as his once was.

"you're not so bad, yourself.''

and that makes the corner of dean's lips turn up in a small, soft smirk. god, he loves you. and he's gonna show you that.

all night long.

dean starts with his hands, the rough callouses trailing up your thighs, hips, waist, stomach, tits, arms, back— fucking everywhere on your bare skin as he stares up at you.

but your hands move on dean, too— touching him everywhere you could reach before you go lower, your fingers grazing on the waistband of his boxers— but you look back up at him again, a silent question in your eyes.

dean looks confused for half a second— until he realizes you're asking for permission. then he nods, his heart feeling warmer than it was before.

you tear his boxers off in one fell swoop— and holy goddamn.

you stare— again. and dean's fighting the urge to roll you over onto the mattress and just taking you.

instead, he forces himself to stay still under you— because the urge to do that and see what you do next is stronger.

dean's smirking up at you. the damn idiot. and then he quietly murmurs out—

"your turn."

you'd almost forgotten you still had your underwear on— oh, but dean didn't forget. the speed at which you yank down the fabric and discard it somewhere in the motel room should be a world record.

you look back down at dean again when you get situated back on his lap— but he's not looking at you anymore.

no, the man gulps at the sight of your pussy being exposed to him— and it takes him a while to look back up at you, his voice low and rough.

"c'mere."

you obliged, one of your hands reaching down and grasping dean's own that had been resting on your thigh.

this was new. oh, so new. dean wasn't new to you by any means, and that familiarity, that bond was still there— but he was new in this sense. this was different.

this was real.

dean was a man who rarely ever got what he really wanted— so you wanted dean to get whatever he wanted out of what was about to happen between the two of you.

"tell me what you want, dean," your voice is a mere whisper. "tell me what you want me to do, and i'll do it."

dean really thinks you should be illegal. you're all he's ever wanted—and you're asking him what he wanted.

he doesn't answer right away— dean's eyes rake over your naked form in his lap, and he's got his hands resting on your thighs as he meets your gaze once more.

"touch me."

you knew what dean meant by that. dean knew what he meant by that. and you both were fully aware of the line you were about to cross. but you weren't even nervous. and neither was he.

so take your hands, reaching down and trailing a path on dean's lower torso before you take him all in your hands.

and dean thinks he might die.

again.

because you start stroking him slowly— you weren't an idiot, you knew if you went too fast at first, it would hurt dean like a motherfucker rather than feel good.

and you're just looking at him, reading his reactions, making sure that it feels good.

all dean can get out at first is your name. he had opened his mouth to say something, but that's all that came out in a broken groan. he's letting out these little broken noises of pleasure— and his head has to fall back on the shitty motel room’s headboard so he doesn't cum right there.

you keep your pace of your hand on dean's dick steady, only increasing the intensity after a few moments when you can tell he needed more— by the way he gripped onto your hip, his rough fingers curling into the meat of your skin— and by the way he was fighting back the moans that had been treating to escape his throat.

it was definitely embarrassing how close dean was to cumming already, he knew that. but he also knew it was because it was you who was bringing him there. not some quick fuck with a chick he'd met that night, or his own hand— no.

it was yours.

and that thought combined with the way you're still looking at him— in awe, like he's something out of a museum, gets him way closer to the edge you were guiding him to.

"i'm— fucking christ, jesus—"

your name along with the man upstairs' son had come out of dean's mouth in a desperate attempt to warn you that he was right there, all because of you.

"i gotcha, dean," you whisper, and your free hand not jerking him off reaches to cup the side of his face as his head's tilted up towards you.

"just let it happen."

and that does it for him.

dean cums hard, his hands clutching on your thigh and part of your hips with all he's got, gasping and groaning, letting little out broken moans the whole way down.

you just guide dean through it with your hand, watching him under you as his skin was all flushed and red now, hair sticking up everywhere (courtesy of your hands), his pupils blown out and half-lidded before shutting fully.

"y'okay?" you whisper, your eyes flicking over dean under you. his own eyes continued to be closed— and you take that time to grab a tissue from the nightstand, wiping your hand clean before looking back and giving dean your full attention.

your other hand was still on his face, your thumb grazing on his cheek now, and for a split second, you almost think dean must not have liked it, or you went too far, because he wasn't saying—

"holy shit."

the curse leaves dean's mouth as his eyes open— and all he can do is reach his free hand up that wasn't grasping yours between the two of you already and rest it on the one cupping his face.

you can't even open your softly smiling mouth to respond, because the next words are coming out of dean's mouth, his voice still raw and rough from the way you just broke him apart.

"you know what i wanna do right now?"

you tilt your head a little to the side, still looking down at dean below you with his back resting against the headboard as you so desperately wanted to know.

"what?"

dean's downright devilish smirk reappears— and his eyes flick down to your almost dripping pussy that was spread as you straddled his legs before looking back up at you, his voice still rough as ever.

"I wanna taste you."

and a strangled sound gets stuck in your throat at the mere thought of dean eating you out. maybe it was a little embarassing how breathless your voice sounded when you leaned just a fraction closer to him.

"then go ahead."

an actual growl escapes dean at that— and you don't need to tell the man twice. he's got you flipped over and pinning you down, your scorching back hitting the cold motel sheets before you can even blink. you stare up at him when he hovers over you, both hands on the sides of your head, holding him up— and he's just looking at you.

but dean doesn't stay like that for too long. his lips hit your neck immediately after he leans down enough— and he starts just attacking at your skin, nipping, biting, sucking— he draws a path all the way down, until he reaches your now sopping pussy.

dean changes his position when he does, spreading your slick inner thighs further apart and settling between your legs, wrapping a strong arm around the meat of your thighs.

but he hesitates for a brief moment. he likes eating out pussy, but did you enjoy it? his pussy-drunk eyes flick up to yours— and you're a sight all spread out for him, your back against the pillows and sitting up a little so you could watch.

"i ain't gonna be gentle. y'know that, right?"

you knew that dean had always been considerate of you, long before this night— for as long as you'd known him, for that matter. but hearing him tell you that he didn't want to be gentle made your gaze soften and a smile tug on your lips as you nodded in response.

"yeah, i know."

and in that moment, dean thinks he loves you.

well, in all actuality, dean knows he loves you— but seeing you all soft and just so goddamn pretty in the moonlight that's filtering in through the motel room window, he's well aware of the blessing that's before him.

dean gives you one last smile— softer this time. then he dives in, burying in his face and going at you full force, his tongue flat and working against your puffy, slick folds before letting out a groan that vibrates everything.

and dean was right.

he was not gentle about it.

your eyes threaten to flutter shut as dean's tounge works on you— but you force them to be half-lidded as you look down at the sight of dean eating you out like a starved man.

and he's looking right back at you as he does it.

your hand flies to grasp onto dean's that was still resting on your thigh as his mouth continues to attack you— and he gladly takes it in his, not faltering his pace once.

you couldn't help but bite down hard on your bottom lip, attempting to contain the moans and noises that were threatening to spill out of you— and dean isn’t having it.

“nuh uh, darlin’,” dean shakes his head between your thighs, talking right into your pussy between flicks of his tongue on your clit. “i wanna hear you— wanna hear how goddamn good i’m makin’ ya feel right now.”

and with that, your mouth drops open almost immediately. it's like a switch flipped in you— and the first moan you let out is his fuckin' name.

"dean..."

christ on a cross. dean had wanted to hear just anything come out of your pretty mouth, but his name being the first thing on the tip of your tongue does things to him.

dean's imagined you moaning his name countless times, of course, but nothing can compare to the real you right now— tits heaving, groaning and eyes fluttering a little each time he brushes on a few sensitive spots on your pussy with his tongue.

now, it's embarrassing how close you are to cumming on dean's tongue. and oh, he notices. he holds your bucking and writhing hips down with his free hand that's not grasping and holding onto yours—

and goes to fuckin' town.

"fuck— dean!" you think you're gonna pass out— because you could barely hear the sounds of dean slurping up your juices and sucking on your clit when you cum without warning, back arching off of the sheets and grinding into his tongue, your grip on his hand becoming almost bruising as the pleasure cascades over you in waves.

dean doesn't look away from you for a second as your pussy flutters on his tongue, moving his mouth slower once more to not let a drop of you go to waste, making sure you're completely spent, pulling soft groans and gasps from your lips.

your legs tremble and shake under the arm that dean had wrapped around your thigh— and he takes a second to just watch you in the post-orgasm state you're in.

"y'okay?" dean's voice is rough but soft at the same time, looking up at you from his position between your legs like you're the night sky itself.

you open your eyes again, lifting your head off of the pillows just enough to see dean's eyes looking right back at you— and oh, he's a sight, his lips, nose and chin absolutley covered in your slick— and his hair's even more messy than before now.

"yeah", you breathe out softly, managing a nod against the pillows. "yeah, i'm all good. c'mere."

dean sees the soft look in your eyes— and his own gaze melts as he obeys, lifting off of the mattress and out from between your legs to hover over you, your faces just inches apart again.

dean can't look away.

and he never wants to.

"you're goddamn gorgeous, y'know that?" dean murmurs as he looks down at your moonlit face.

at that, you reach your hand up in the distance between you two, cupping the side of dean's face— and his head immediately leans into your touch before you whisper back.

"and you're perfect, dean."

dean's chest tightens at that— and his gaze somehow softens even more. no one's ever called him perfect before, and he couldn't think of one person in his life who even believed that to be true.

but you were looking at dean like he was.

you notice dean's reaction immediately— it was hard not to with how close you were.

you meant those words you said to dean— because being perfect wasn't about having absolutely no flaws or weaknesses.

it was about knowing that, and still carrying on anyway.

and then it clicks. because you could talk all you wanted to dean.

or you could show him how perfect he was.

"lemme show you," you whisper before dean could even open his mouth to deny it. "let me show you how perfect you are, dean."

and those words are completely breaking down what little resistance dean had left. his eyes actually get a little misty as he’s looking down at you— because he can't believe you're here, telling him everything he's never heard before.

dean nods— and his voice is shaking with anticipation mixed with pure awe.

"yeah. yeah, okay."

and that's all you needed. you look at dean's face one last time before lifting your head to close the little distance between the both of you, kissing him with everything you had to give him.

you didn't kiss dean like before— that was in a state of pure lust, desire, and want. now, you're kissing him softer, slower, and with purpose.

and purpose was exactly what dean needed. he tries to keep himself upright and hovering over you, but the way you're kissing him has his arms trembling as you're literally melting him.

you only take my lips off of dean’s when the air he and you had been breathing through your noses wasn’t enough— and your thumb grazes on his cheek again as his forehead rests on top of yours, eyes fluttering a little as i whisper against his lips.

“lay down for me.”

you don't have to say it again. dean obliges in a heartbeat, lifting off of you and rolling onto his back in one fluid motion— and you follow behind, tossing your leg over his to straddle him once more

dean’s hands go to your hips once you’re straddling him, looking up at you now— he still looks a little wrecked from earlier, and his chest is rising and falling in a slower, steadier rhythm than before, like he’s trying to calm himself down.

but seeing your naked form straddling him like this once more is just making his heart start to thump against his chest— again.

your hands find dean’s own on your hips,your fingers trailing on his skin, grazing past his wrists and up his arms— you're not exactly slow, but you're also not very fast with it, either.

no, you take your time touching dean all over again, fingertips tracing over every scar and dent you could see and feel as you're straddling him. your eyes flick up to his face, meeting his gaze once more— but you just keep touching him.

"oh, look at you," your voice is an awed whisper while your hands move on dean’s chest, grazing on the anti-possession tattoo he had on his skin. "see? you’re perfect."

and dean can’t help the little shiver your touch brings him right now, even though he's literally just laying below you, half-propped up by the pillows like you once were. he just can’t help it, because you’ve always been able to get the best reactions out of him.

dean swallows hard as your hands continue their journey over his body— your fingertips roaming over his skin, tracing all the scars he’d earned, right across his chest and down to his stomach.

and his breath actually hitches when you touch his anti-possession tattoo again.

your fingers trace on dean’s tattoo, watching and loving his reactions to just your freakin' hands.

and your hands stay resting on dean’s chest, but a little closer to his shoulders, shifting closer to him in his lap, pressing the entirety of your bare body completely against his.

your voice is still a whisper when you talk again, searching his face as you ask him to do what you've always wanted to.

because you needed to show dean how much you wanted him.

"can i ride you?"

if dean was hard before, it's nothing compared to the way his dick almost hurts now, throbbing at the way you asked permission to ride him.

"god, yes" is what comes out from dean's clenched jaw, and his gaze is locked onto yours as his hands rest on your hips.

a soft smile tugs on your lips again, your gaze flicking down for a brief moment when you hear how strained dean’s voice was— and the sight of him hard for you sends a wave of heat that pools in your stomach, making you clench around nothing.

because you needed dean just as badly as he needed you.

your eyes flick back up to dean’s green ones. and you notice that neither of you are nervous for his to happen. this was dean, after all. you'd wanted him in the least friendly way possible for as long as you could remember— and now? it was actually going to come true.

you didn’t have to ask dean anything else, or even say something. he wanted all of you— and you were going to give it to him.

so that’s why you shift a little, reaching down and guiding yourself to sink onto dean, keeping his gaze while your hands are still on his shoulders.

a broken groan escapes dean when you start to lower yourself down on him— and his own body’s reaction to your walls sucking him in just makes him want you even more.

dean lets his gaze travel all across your face— and he’s still looking right into your eyes when he lets himself go completely slack underneath you, letting you take the lead.

your fingers dig a little into dean’s shoulder at the burning sensation of your pussy being stretched— and your breath hitches, hard. your head falls forward a little as you screw your eyes shut.

your mind had felt like it was going over a thousand miles per second, but when your legs finally hit dean's and your pussy hits the base of his dick, everything just... goes away.

and dean couldn’t keep himself completely still anymore. he actually growled a little when he felt you fully sink down on him, and the sound that left him when he feels your tightness around him was a little more primal-sounding than he’d like to admit right now.

"oh, fuck," he breathes out your name, "you’re tryna kill me."

you can only respond to dean’s words with a strangled noise as the burning sensation was becoming full-throttle now, your grip on dean’s shoulders a little tighter, your head still hung as you try to keep my breathing steady.

because you literally couldn’t move yet. it was still the best feeling you'd ever felt— but you had to get used to dean's dick being buried deep inside of you before you could actually start to move on top of him.

and the way you’re holding on to his shoulders right now and how you’re trying to hold back little noises is driving dean insane.

he’s gripping your hips so tight that it has to be almost painful, and his eyes are fixed on you, still watching you while he tries to stay still for you. but it was taking a hell of a lot of effort on his part.

dean's chest is rising and falling fast, and he can’t help it when he finally chokes out your name in a whisper, unable to keep it in anymore.

"move. please."

at dean’s plea, you flick your hips just a little to see if you were adjusted yet.

and oh, were you ever. your fingers finally release their death grip on dean’s shoulders, one of your hands finding and grasping one of his own that was on your hip— and you finally start to move on top of him, rocking your hips into his.

the groan that escapes dean is the deepest one yet, his hand clutching onto yours and his eyes shutting for a moment as he feels you moving, his free hand tightening on your hip again.

"oh, god," dean gasps out, "jesus—"

you let out a raggedy exhale mixed with a moan, attempting to stop your eyes from rolling back into your head as you continue to ride dean's dick. it was hard, but you managed to keep your eyes open and half-lidded and on him, wanting to see his face— and you grind your hips into his faster and harder.

seeing you like this was getting to be borderline unbearable for dean.

your tits are bouncing a little in dean's face, and you're just not letting up, and you're so tight and warm, and he just fuckin' loves you—

dean realizes he's gonna cum if you keep this up.

and the embarrassing part is you barely even started riding him.

so it’s a damn good thing he’s still got a shred of control over himself right now.

"je— s— slow it down for a sec, darlin'," dean manages to get out, gritting his teeth as his eyes screw shut. "please."

the moment those words leave dean’s mouth, you immediately do as he says— you don’t abruptly stop, instead gradually slowing your movements to allow for an easy transition.

your hand trails up from dean's shoulder to cup on the side of his face while your're still on top of him— your eyes then search his when you breathlessly whisper to him.

"you okay?"

dean opens his eyes when you ask him if he’s okay right now, knowing that was pure concern in your words. he’s taking a moment to let his body level out a bit, since you stopped like he asked you to. and when he does, he manages a nod once he’s able to somehow form words.

"yeah, 'm good, darlin’—" dean swallows and takes a big gulp of air. "just got a 'lil too close to the edge for a second there. don’t wanna blow it right now."

an exhale of relief you didn’t know you were holding in was let out at dean’s confirmation— and your thumb almost absentmindedly grazes on the skin of his cheek as your hand was still on the side of his face.

"oh," you also nod, gaze softening as you look down at dean under you still. his words make you feel warm inside, along with a little sense of pride, too— but you still had to confirm. "it doesn’t hurt, though, right?"

"doesn’t hurt,” dean responds immediately. and that’s a bit of a complete understatement, because being inside of you right now felt like heaven. his own hand comes up to where yours is, his fingers skimming over your skin as he smiles softly up at you once more. "just wanna be able to last a 'lil bit longer for you, 's all."

your eyebrows scrunch together at that, and your expression is almost goddamn melted at this point as you look down at dean. you weren't sure why those words impacted you so much, but your chest tightens with emotion before you speak again.

"oh, de," you literally whisper, your thumb still skimming back and forth on dean’s cheek. "y'know you don’t have to do that."

"yeah, i do," dean murmurs immediately in response, looking right into your eyes the whole time he talks. "i've wanted this— you for goddamn years. i'm not lettin' this end yet."

so you don't.

you nod, leaning in and pressing a kiss on dean's lips before you talk again.

"okay," you nod against his forehead. "just move me when you want to, alright?"

dean gratefully nods, too, appreciating your understanding. his hands find and hold your hips again—this time, with less of a death-grip. and after he takes a steadying breath, he starts to move you.

you just let dean work and grind your hips into his own, holding his shoulder and face with your hands, allowing him to take what he needed and set the pace.

after a while, though, dean lifts you up off his dick by your hips a few inches before setting you back down fully, repeating the motion— starting to actually fuck you a little.

you'd been quiet for the most part so far— but once the head of dean's dick brushes against that spongy spot deep inside of you, a string of broken moans and gasps spill from your lips.

and that just spurs dean on.

you'd both waited long enough now. it's been years of stolen looks, suppressed jealousy, unspoken thoughts and feelings— and tonight, you're making it all come true in the darkness of the motel room.

thank god dean's hands had been guiding your hips— because you're starting to unravel faster than you can comprehend. and so is dean.

dean's fucking up into you now like he'll never be able to fuck you again— which you both know wasn't true. and after tonight, you know you'd happily sleep with dean's dick buried inside of your pussy.

it takes only a whimper falling from your lips for dean to know that you're close— and your hand flies down to one of his on your hips again. he gladly takes it, wanting to hold your hand when he cums inside of you—

wait. is he allowed to do that?

"y— oh," dean groans out your name— he has not been silent throughout this entire ordeal, either. broken noises of pleasure and little groans of your name escaped his lips whenever your walls clenched around him. "can i— god—"

you didn't have to ask what dean meant by that. you nod almost frantically as his hand are still gripping your hips, guiding your pussy up and down his dick— and you squeeze his other hand tighter, the one you were holding.

and only then does dean let himself go, again.

your orgasm comes at the same time dean's does— and you both arch into each other and trembling as your moans echo off the motel room's walls. dean's face buries between your tits and groans into the skin while he spills up into you, your juices mixing with his.

you both stay like that for a while, naked, sweating, slick and gasping for air for god knows how long— until dean's raw and breathless voice vibrating on your breasts breaks the silence.

"i think i was made for you."

──────────────────────── 𖤐

you now have two ( 2 ) new message from the author ! ↓

oh heyyy... are any of y'all still here ??? but seriously, on a real note— if you have stayed to the very end: first, THANK YOU for reading! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write, and i want to know if my efforts are worthwhile!

OH i also used a very special headcanon from @figthoughts' mastermind brain for this one because mr. dean winchester holding your hand while he eats you out is very much and totally 100% canon for me as well. fig you match my freak like no other and i hope to one day write as good and absolutely filthily as you do HEHE smooches to you my pookie <3

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

#faith’s works . . . @bejeweledinterludes!#dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #smut #dean smut

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kateschi · 6 months ago

Text

the katsuki bakugou effect

synopsis: where your husband, katsuki, has a way of calming your daughter like no one else can.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

katsuki’s ability to calm your daughter is nothing short of magical.

it doesn’t matter how fussy or inconsolable she gets; the moment he holds her, everything changes.

her tiny fists are no longer clenched in frustration, her loud cries slowly taper off, and her little body relaxes in his arms. his presence soothes her in a way no one else’s can.

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been at the end of your rope, trying everything you can think of to calm her.

you’ve rocked her gently, hummed her favorite lullaby, even tried a little soft talking, but nothing works.

when your baby’s tears start to escalate, and her little body trembles in distress, you find yourself on the edge of exhaustion.

but then katsuki walks in.

he steps over to you, and with a quick kiss to the top of your head, scoops her from your arms, then instantly, the tension in the room lifts.

his rough hands gently cradle her, and he murmurs something too quiet for you to catch.

you can’t help but watch in awe as she goes from wailing to calm in just a few seconds, her little face nuzzling against his chest. it’s like a switch flips, and you swear you can see her sigh in relief.

it’s always the same. as soon as katsuki’s around, she settles. she looks at him with a calmness that’s impossible to ignore, her tiny lips pouting slightly as she stares up at him.

her little hands grasp weakly at his shirt, her body relaxing into his hold as if everything is suddenly right with the world. and katsuki just holds her, always.

“you’re a softie,” you tease one day as you watch him rock her back and forth.

katsuki shoots you a glare, but it’s softened by the sight of your daughter curled peacefully in his arms. “shut up,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat behind it. and you can’t help but smile.

you cross the room, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. he stiffens for a moment, but the warmth in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

“I’m serious,” you say. “you’re the softest guy I know.”

he lets out a gruff chuckle, his scowl deepening, though it's clear he's enjoying your attention as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

a few weeks later, you’re all at a class 1-a reunion, gathered at the old dorms. the atmosphere is lively, with the familiar banter of your old classmates filling the air.

midoriya’s sitting on the couch, holding your daughter carefully in his arms, cooing softly at her as the rest of the group laughs and talks around them.

but suddenly, the peaceful mood shifts. your girl begins to fidget in midoriya’s arms, her little face scrunching up in that all-too-familiar way before the whimpers start.

a soft cry escapes her lips, and then it builds, escalating into the full-blown wail you know so well. midoriya looks startled, glancing around as if searching for some way to calm her.

“uh, uh, it’s okay,” midoriya says, trying to gently rock her in his arms. “it’s okay, sweetheart."

but your baby’s cries only seem to grow louder, her face turning red as her hands flail helplessly. you glance at katsuki, already knowing what’s coming next.

without a word, katsuki stands up from his seat, the others giving him a bit of space as he walks over.

his eyes lock on your daughter, and there’s something about his gaze that makes everything else fade into the background. he’s not rushing, not frantic.

he just calmly steps in, his arms outstretched.

midoriya silently hands the little girl over. as soon as katsuki has her, everything shifts. he holds her against his chest, and his rough hand gently pats her back.

his thumb brushes against her little arm, his voice soft. “it’s me,” he murmurs, his tone low and steady. “it’s okay.”

your little girl hiccups, her cries fading almost immediately, and then she stops. her lips jut out in a pout, still a little upset, but no longer in distress.

she stares up at him, her wide eyes searching his face as if recognizing him. and then, she settles into the crook of his arm, her tiny hands grasping weakly at the fabric of his shirt.

the room is silent for a moment, everyone watching in awe as your girl rests peacefully in katsuki’s arms. he doesn’t even seem to notice the attention.

his focus is entirely on her, his expression softening as she calms.

you smile to yourself, watching him from the sidelines. even after all this time, katsuki never ceases to surprise you with how much he’s grown, how much he’s learned.

you remember when he first found out he was going to be a father, and how nervous he’d been (though he would never admit that).

but now, here he is, effortlessly calming your daughter.

“man, you’re a real softie now, huh?” kirishima teases from across the room, a wide grin plastered on his face.

katsuki’s eyes narrow immediately, and he glares at his friend. “shut the hell up, red.”

but the teasing doesn’t stop there.

kaminari, who’s been silently watching the entire scene, leans forward with a smirk. “I can’t believe it…the ‘explosion hero’ is actually the baby whisperer now?”

katsuki frowns, and his glare remains trained on the two of them. but there’s a slight restraint in his movements—one that’s only noticeable to you.

he’s trying to stay calm, and it’s all because he doesn’t want to wake your little girl up. you can practically feel the tension in the air as his patience wears thin.

sero, naturally, chimes in with a smirk of his own. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, man. I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be ‘aww’ing over a baby like some mushy ball of fluff.”

katsuki’s mouth opens, ready to fire back, but then he glances down at your sleeping daughter, her little chest rising and falling peacefully, and he shuts it again.

for a split second, his fierce expression softens. he takes a deep breath, holding the baby a little tighter.

“you’re lucky she’s asleep, or I would've blasted your asses to oblivion,” he grumbles, but the threat is half-hearted.

kaminari lets out a nervous laugh. “jeez, man, alright, we get it.”

you can’t help but chuckle softly, leaning against the doorframe as you watch them.

katsuki’s eyes narrow in warning, but despite his frown, there’s a warmth to his expression that doesn’t go unnoticed when he looks back at d/n.

it’s moments like these when the rest of the world seems to disappear, and it's just him, her, and the quiet calm they share.

sighing in resignation, he shifts slightly, walking over to you. you watch as he makes his way across the room, still cradling your daughter in his arms, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she drifts into a deeper sleep.

you don’t say anything at first, but as he gets closer, you meet his gaze with a soft smile.

there’s no denying the softening effect he has when it’s just the two of you—well, the three of you, if you count the tiny bundle in his arms.

he leans into you as he steps to your side, his broad shoulders brushing against yours, and without a word, he tilts his head slightly toward you, seeking the quiet comfort of being beside you.

“I told them to shut up,” katsuki mutters, his voice lower now, quieter. his usual fiery energy is subdued, and he seems content to just be in your presence.

he exhales slowly, letting the weight of the situation fade away. you reach up and gently touch his arm, a soft laugh escaping you.

"she's lucky you’re her dad," you murmur, your eyes flickering down to where your daughter is curled against his chest. "you’re so patient with her."

katsuki scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays his true feelings.

“I’m not some damn pushover,” he mutters, but there’s a softness in his tone that makes you want to kiss him.

and you do.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

#bnha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader

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sceletaflores · 7 months ago

Text

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent.

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts.

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning.

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more.

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you.

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved.

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure.

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist.

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain.

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer.

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours.

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow.

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest.

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt.

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

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